Controlled Burn by Delilah Devlin Page B

glide, and he clamped his hands on her buttocks and lifted her.
    His cock slid through her folds to her entrance, and he shoved her slowly down until he was seated deep inside. “Better?”
    Carly drew a thin breath. “So much better,” she whispered. “I love the way you feel inside me.”
    “I love the feel of your insides.”
    She laughed and wrinkled her nose. “You really need to work on the sweet talk.”
    “Maybe I shouldn’t even try,” he growled. “Don’t they say, actions speak louder than words?”
    “They do,” she said, nodding solemnly. “So… act .”
    He cupped her cheek and the back of her neck and kissed her, his tongue sliding into her mouth.
    The taste was of her body. She sucked on it and groaned, grinding down on his cock, because she needed more than great kisses. She needed him to move. Her inner muscles tightened all around him.
    On a guttural moan, he broke the kiss. “That feels…amazing.”
    Concentrating, she did it again, liking the way his face hardened and his fingers bit into the flesh of her bottom. Again…
    He leaned his forehead against hers. “You’re not letting me take this slow, are you?”
    She snickered. “Cowboy, slow is overrated.”
    With a single move, he held her body close and leaned over, forcing her to lie on the carpet.
    She let her legs fall open at either side of his hips, surrendering everything. “Ride me, Jeremiah. Make me burn.”
    His jaw clamped tight, and his nostrils flared a moment before he braced his weight on both hands and lowered like he was doing a pushup. Then his hips began thrusting—long, steady drives, over and over, filling her, leaving her, filling her again.
    Her breaths deepened, and her eyelids dipped. She watched him through narrow slits, aiming downward through the small space between their bodies as his cock disappeared again and again. She loved the way they looked together—him fucking her, his hips dipping and angling to stroke her inner walls just right. She raised her legs higher. “I love fucking you.”
    He snorted. “I’m the one doing all the work.”
    “Do you mind that I’m lazy?”
    He shook his head and gave a distracted grin. “No, I like being in control. You’re so hot and tight… fuck …” He pummeled her pussy faster. “Shouldn’t talk. You wreck my concentration.”
    Her breaths came out in gasps. “Why do you need to think?”
    “Don’t. Just want to make this last longer.”
    And she understood. Or at least, she understood what it meant from her point of view. She didn’t want this day to end. She loved the way he was with her—gentle, like she was fragile, when he could think; rough, like now, when the pleasure blew away his caution.
    He leaned on one hand and slipped the other beneath her ass, cupping her to raise her as he pounded harder.
    Aiding him, she curved her body, giving him the angle he sought as he sank deeper. “I can feel you all the way inside me, stretching me,” she whispered, scratching his chest with her nails.
    “Not gonna last much longer,” he ground out, then abruptly pulled free.
    “Bastard,” she groaned and let her head fall against the floor.
    He gripped her by the waist and turned her over, then snaked an arm beneath her belly and pulled her up until she rested on her hands and knees.
    Carly tossed back her hair and glanced behind her, watching as he placed himself at her entrance again, gripped her hips, and drove forward. Intense pleasure rippled inside. She whipped around and dropped her head, whimpering as he moved forcefully inside her—so deep, so fast, the friction building inside made her burn.
    He reached around her and thumbed her clit as he bucked against her.
    She braced herself, pushing back hard to keep from moving across the carpet. She’d have rug burns on her knees, but she didn’t care. The sounds he produced, so dirty and wet as he hammered into her pussy, were slick and percussive, their rhythm matching her escalating