I slammed into her hard. “Say my name.”
“Bridger.”
“That’s right.”
I drove into her hard and fast, hitting that spot inside her with every thrust. Her eyes went wide, her mouth falling open in a silent scream. She shattered around me, her pussy clenching so tight I nearly lost control.
I fucked her through it, long deep strokes while she trembled and gasped beneath me.
When she started to come down, I finally let myself go. My thrusts were jerky now as I chased my release. “Fuck—”
My orgasm slammed into me, and I buried myself as deep as I could go, coming hard inside her.
I groaned her name, my whole body shaking with the force of it.
When I finally stopped shaking, I looked down at her.
Flushed. Satisfied. Beautiful.
“Mine. You’re fucking mine, Roxie.” I buried my head in her neck, breathing in her scent.
Her eyes were still hazy with pleasure. “Yeah. Yours.”
I kissed her, my tongue tangling with hers. Then I pulled out before I got carried away and just started fucking her again. We both hissed.
I looked down and saw my cum leaking out of her and something primitive and possessive surged through me. I scooped some of it up with my fingers and pushed it back inside her.
She gasped. “You’re keeping every drop,” I growled, feeling my cock hardening again. So much for not overwhelming her. My hands found her hips. “Turn over,” I ordered.
Her eyes widened. “Already?”
I grinned down at her. “Already.”
She turned onto her stomach, and I ran my hands down her back to the curve of her ass. It was wide, round, and completely flawless. I gripped the thick flare of her hips and pulled her up onto her knees, presenting that gorgeous rear perfectly for my cock. Watching her fullness tremble slightly as I lined myself up behind her nearly drove me through the roof.
“You’re not leaving this fucking bed for hours.”
“Promise?” she asked, breathless.
I pushed into her from behind in one hard thrust.
“Promise.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Roxie
Rule #33: Never fall in love with a man in less than a week. You don’t know him. It’s just chemistry. It’s just good sex. It’s just—
It was love.
I was completely, utterly, stupidly in love with Bridger.
Momma’s rules didn’t account for waking up in a man’s bed after he’d spent half the night worshipping your body. Didn’t account for the way he’d pulled you close in his sleep like he couldn’t bear to let go. Didn’t account for finding someone who felt like home.
The bed was a tangled mess of sheets that smelled like him and sex and us.
At some point during the night, he’d gathered up our scattered clothes from the staircase. They lay on the padded bench at the end of the bed. His t-shirt, my shorts. My underwear... I didn’t see that.