Slider reared back off the bed, grabbed a condom from a new box in the nightstand drawer, and shed his sweatpants. Another whole-body shudder wracked through Cora’s body. Because if she’d thought Slider was impressive when he wasn’t hard, he was freaking stunning when he was. She’d had sex with four guys in her life, so she was by no means an expert, but without question, Slider’s cock was the longest she’d ever seen. Eight inches, easy. Maybe more, because it appeared big enough that she bet she could easily wrap both hands around his length, one stacked atop the other.
“You look at me like that and I don’t want to go slow,” he said, his voice low, his eyebrow arched.
“Then don’t go slow,” she said, watching him roll on a condom.
A niggle of unease rolled through her. Because this was really happening. She was really going to have sex with Slider. And the last time . . . wasn’t sex.
But this also wasn’t the last time. Cora forced herself to latch on to everything that was different. The lights were on. It was morning, not night. She was on her back, not facedown. And most importantly, she’d chosen this man and this moment.
“I want this,” she said for herself and for him. “Just like this.” Her thighs fell open.
He braced himself above her, his eyes searching hers. And then he kissed her, took himself in hand, and found her center. His cock sank deep inch by sanity-stealing inch.
“Fuck, Cora. You feel so damn good.”
Her fingers clutched at his ass, but all she could do was moan in response. At the fullness, at the goodness, at the sensation of triumph she felt for being able to even do this.
“Goddamnit,” he bit out as he buried himself deep. Gripping the edge of the bed with one hand, he curled his other into her hair as he began to move.
And, holy wow, the way he moved. Fast and frantic, with his hips tipping forward on each downward thrust in the most infuriatingly delicious way. The movement ground against her clit every time, until she was meeting him stroke for stroke, fucking him even as he was fucking her.
His forehead fell against hers, and his eyes absolutely blazed as he took her. And Cora didn’t want this to end. She never wanted it to end. That look. This feeling. This stolen moment.
“Too good,” he rasped.
She nodded. “So good you’re already making me want more, Slider.”
“Yeah,” he said, hammering her harder. “Tell me.”
A strangled cry spilled out of her, because he was moving faster now, harder, chasing the end. “I want to ride you. And I want you to pin me up against a wall. And I want—”
“Christ, the mouth you have on you,” he said, claiming it in a rough, demanding kiss. Finally, he pulled away. “Know what I want?”
“What?”
“I want you to come again. I want to feel it while I’m buried in you. I want you to give me that, Cora.” He fell atop her, his arms clutching her tight, and fucked her in a series of fast, grinding strokes that hit her clit every time.
She hadn’t thought she would get there again, but suddenly she was close, closer. “Don’t stop,” she gasped, curling her arms around his neck and holding on. She closed her eyes and arched her spine and used her feet on the backs of his thighs for leverage, and then she was coming and shaking and shouting, and so was Slider.
“Cora,” he groaned, his hips slowing but still moving, his cock jerking inside her, his breath rasping in her ear. Still, he fucked her in long, lazy strokes as he lifted his head to look at her. Satisfaction made his eyes softer than she’d ever seen them before, but there was still interest there, too. “Jesus, Cora, I’m still hard.”
A moment of uncertainty rolled through her. To cut this off with the incredible sex they’d already shared, or to push for more? More won out, because who knew if this was a line they’d ever cross again after today? “That’s because we’re not done.”
“We’re not?” Slider asked, his head, heart, and cock at war.
He knew what he wanted, because nothing had made him feel this good in a long, long time. But he posed it as a question anyway because he didn’t want to be taking advantage any more than he was. Things were way muddied now. What was right here? And if this was wrong, why did it feel so right? But while he was still inside her, only one part of him could emerge as the winner, even if it was probably the wrong damn part.
“You wanna ride me, Cora? That what you want?” He imagined it, imagined what she’d look like taking him inside her body, holding him down, using him in a way that made them both feel so good. And, God, he wanted what he imagined, though he fucking shouldn’t. Not if he was smart.