Stealing Rose (The Fowler Sisters 2) - Page 42

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But the connection is there, vibrating between us like a living, breathing thing. She takes a step forward and I move so I’m standing directly behind her, resting my hand at her waist, pressing my face into her hair and taking a deep breath, the sweet scent of her shampoo filling my senses.

She ducks her head forward and I brush the thick, soft waves away from her neck, leaning in to kiss her nape. She shivers, her breath leaving her in a shuddery rush, and I slip my arm around her front, bringing her to me so her ass makes direct contact with my hardening cock, my hand splayed across her quivering stomach.

“Caden,” she starts, a warning in her tone, but the arrival of the elevator stops her.

The doors slide open, revealing the elevator is empty, and I push her inside, the doors closing behind us, sealing us into this tiny, facsimile club atmosphere.

She turns so her back is pressed against the mirrored wall, her eyes wide, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She’s aroused. I bet if I reached between her legs my fingers would come away wet.

The music is low and sultry and the purple and green lights seem to flash in time to the beat. The elevator starts with a shake, making its descent slowly, and I turn to the control panel, pushing the red button that stops the elevator in its tracks.

“What are you doing?” she asks, inhaling sharply when I crowd her, bracing my hands against the wall behind her. Her pulse is hammering at the base of her throat and her pupils are dilated. She’s excited.

So am I.

“Giving us enough time so I can fuck you properly,” I murmur just before I kiss her. Hard. She tilts her head back, her hands settling on the waistband of my jeans, undoing them and finding my cock quickly since I’m not wearing anything underneath.

“You’re just as bad,” she breathes against my lips as she strokes my cock. I falter in her hands, her touch driving me closer to the edge. I’ve been sitting on that fucking edge since I fingered her in the restaurant. “Not wearing any underwear.”

“Wanted to be ready for you,” I say, kissing her again, dropping one of my hands to her thigh so I can tug up her skirt. Her thigh is soft and trembles beneath my fingertips. “We’re going to have to be quick.”

“Okay,” she says eagerly as she pushes at my jeans, shoving them down so they’re wrapped around my thighs.

I reach behind me and pluck the condom from my back pocket, tearing open the wrapper and slipping the ring over the head of my cock. She watches in fascination, reaching out to touch the tip, then running her finger along my length before she wraps her fingers around the base and guides me toward her.

“Come here.” I pick her up with ease and she wraps her legs around my hips, her skirt shielding us. Without warning I thrust deep inside her, all the way to the hilt, and our mingling moans are loud, overpowering the low thrum of the music playing from the elevator speakers.

“Oh, God.” She slams her head against the wall, her eyes falling shut, her teeth digging into her lower lip as I begin to thrust. I study her with fascination, loving the way her face hitches with my every push deep inside her body, a little whimper falling from her lips when I withdraw. She’s so wet, it was easy to slide inside her pussy and I can feel it twitch and tremble, driving me fucking insane.

“Don’t stop,” she whispers, and there’s no way in hell I can. This is going to be fast and it’s going to be brutal. I’m ramming myself deep, as deep as I can go, my balls tightening, the familiar tingling at the base of my spine already starting. I’m gonna blow soon.

And I want to make sure she’s coming along with me for the ride.

“You close?” I ask her, reaching in between us to stroke her clit. She’s sopping wet and sticky and I’m smearing it everywhere, on my cock, on her clit, trying my damnedest to work her into a frenzy.

“Yes. Please, please, please.” She’s chanting, her mouth hanging open, her head thrown so far back her hair is like a crazed cloud against the mirror. I glance to my left, see that the wall isn’t covered with the black pattern. It’s nothing but plain mirrors.

Offering me a clear view of the two of us fucking.

“Look,” I tell her, grasping her by her chin and forcing her to look to her right. Our gazes clash in the reflection and I reach between us, shoving up the skirt of her dress to her waist so our connected bodies are on perfect display.

“Oh, Caden.” The words rush out of her breathlessly as I withdraw almost all the way out, my cock glistening with her juices before I shove myself back inside. It’s hot as hell in the elevator. I’m sweating, she’s sweating, the scent of sex is heavy in the air and the music keeps playing, the green and purple lights casting us in a weird glow, the sight of my cock moving inside of her body hurtling me closer and closer to the brink.

“You feel so good,” I whisper, my words making her pussy clench tight around me. I grit my teeth, trying to control myself for at least a little longer. I want to ensure she’s close to coming too, damn it. “I think I’m addicted to your pussy.”

She laughs. I love that she finds my remark humorous but I’m not lying. “Are you serious?”

I play with her clit, her laughter dying on her lips, replaced by a moan instead. “Dead fucking serious, Ro. I love that pretty little pussy of yours. I never want to stop fucking it.”

Her inner walls ripple with my words and I press my mouth close to her ear, whispering all sorts of dirty nothings, trying to get her off. Hell, getting myself off. She likes it dirty, this girl. I squeeze her ass, thrust my cock so deep inside her she screams and then she’s coming, my name falling from her lips, her hands clutching me as tight as her pussy clutches around my cock and then I’m coming too …

Tags: Monica Murphy The Fowler Sisters Romance