The Bride Goes Rogue (The Fifth Avenue Rebels #3)(53)

“Please,” she whispered.

He rested his forehead against her temple, keeping them connected as he continued to invade her body. He wanted to hear every sigh, every gasp, feel every twitch as he made her his. It was intense, so much more intimate than any time before, like her reactions fed his own, their bodies completely in tune.

Her fingernails dug into his back as she tensed. He waited, a little more than halfway inside her. “Shall I stop or slow down?”

She shook her head. “Please don’t. It feels . . . I feel so full.”

“I’m almost there. Just relax. Slide your hand down and play with yourself. Think only about your pleasure.”

One hand worked between their hips and she used a finger on her clitoris. The reaction was instant. More moisture flooded her pussy, her body relaxing, and he sank in another inch. “Yes,” he hissed, sparks radiating along his lower back, his thighs. “More, Kat.”

She was panting, her fingers stirring between them, and after another few seconds their hips finally met. “There,” he rasped. “I’m all the way in. How does it feel?”

“Too much but not enough. Oh, God, Preston.”

He knew exactly what she meant.

The pounding of his heart resonated in his cock, all the way down his shaft, and he could’ve sworn he felt her pulse there, too. It was as if she’d reached deep inside him and twisted his organs, rearranging them. He knew he’d never forget this moment.

He withdrew slowly and thrust once, letting her feel every thick inch of him against her sensitive tissues.

Her eyelids fluttered. “Oh!”

“Good or bad?” he asked, though he already suspected the answer. She was clutching him closer, her hips arching up as if seeking more.

“So very good.”

Burying his face in her neck, he inhaled her scent, then dragged his teeth over her soft skin. He longed to devour her, to cause her pain and pleasure, highs and lows that went on for days at a time.

So he rolled his hips, dragging out of her tight clasp and shoving back in. They both groaned, the sound muffled between their mouths.

“Again,” she begged. “You don’t need to be careful with me.”

He shook his head even as his body began moving, rocking, driving into her, and soon his force and pace picked up. The little noises she made, like surprised delight, grew louder as he fucked her, and sweat collected on their bodies. Her wet heat bathed his cock, and every moan, every press of her fingernails into his skin, felt like the sweetest victory. He wanted to bring her nothing but pleasure, worship her as she deserved. To service her and give her everything she needed.

When she wrapped her legs around his hips, trying to get closer, he pressed up on his arms to stare at her. Lord almighty, she was gorgeous. With her flushed face and lips swollen from his mouth, he’d never seen a more beautiful woman.

“Please, my king,” she whispered.

“Oh, Christ,” he gritted out, his cock jerking inside of her as he thrust. “I’ll spend if you call me that.”

Her hand slid down the center of his chest to between their bodies, where she used a finger to stroke herself again. “Would you like to see your mistress come, my king?”

“No, no, no, stop.” He closed his eyes, but this made it worse because now he could feel her hand working between them, rolling her clitoris to heighten her pleasure as he rode her.

The tips of her fingers brushed his cock.

It was too much. He felt as if he was going to splinter apart. “I can’t . . . oh, fuck. Kat, I . . .”

She widened her legs to give him room, opening herself up for him, and he became like a man possessed. It wasn’t supposed to go like this. He was supposed to take care of her, go carefully, remain in control. And yet his hips pounded into hers, his erection so deep, and the orgasm started in the base of his spine, then wrapped around his groin and into his balls. He began filling the rubber, jets of liquid heat erupting from the head of his cock, and he shuddered as it went on and on, his body emptying everything he had into hers.

The room quieted and he stayed there, unable to move. His chest heaved with the effort to breathe, and he couldn’t yet force himself to leave the comforting clasp of her sex. He felt . . . wrecked.

And embarrassed.

“God, I’m sorry.”

“Why? That was amazing.” She ran her hands along his damp shoulders and arms, over his chest. “I like you sweaty.”

“I’m glad, but I wish I hadn’t climaxed so quickly.”

“That was quick?”

For him, yes. “I wanted you to come.”

Slowly, he withdrew, holding on to the base of the shield. Then he went to the washroom to clean up, where he found a clean linen and wet it with warm water. Katherine was still stretched out on the bed, watching his approach. He liked that she so openly appreciated his body. “Let me tend to you.”

He knelt between her legs and pressed the cloth to the swollen, red flesh. “Are you all right? I was rougher than I’d planned.”

“It was perfect, Preston. Honestly. How was it for you?”

How to answer that? It had been the best orgasm of his life, but she’d never believe him. “Perfect. I’ll last longer next time.”

“Next time?”

He tossed the cloth in the direction of the washroom. “You didn’t think this was it, did you? I have an entire year to make up for.”