Nick moved over me like a starved beast, relentless and animalistic. His pace was punishing, his body dominating mine, and I swear—if he don't stop soon, I'd combust right here beneath him.
My soul felt like it was slipping from my body, spiraling toward some blinding, unbearable ecstasy.
But then—God, then—I felt it.
Something deep inside me began to build. A pressure. A scorching, delicious pressure that curled low in my belly and threatened to snap at any second.
"Georgia… fuck… I could do this all day. You feel so fucking good," Nick growled through gritted teeth.
I wanted to answer, to say something clever or needy or filthy, but my mouth wouldn't cooperate. All that came out were desperate moans and broken curses.
He was so deep. So fucking deep. Every time he slammed into me, he hit a spot that sent stars exploding behind my eyes. I clung to the sheets, to him, to anything—because every time he pulled back, I ached to chase after him.
