Free Wrong (Spada Crime Family #2) by Katherine Lace

part bits and pieces my tattoo artist incorporated into the sleeve, but that I’ve had since I was eighteen or twenty.
    “You’re like a painting.” Her hand strokes down my stomach, stops at the root of my cock. I want her to take me in her hand again, stroke me, but she doesn’t. She doesn’t put the condom on me, either. Instead she just looks down at me, into my eyes, and then lets her gaze stroke over my chest. Just the attention makes my dick twitch.
    For a minute, though, I wonder if she’s having second thoughts. As soon as she slides my dick inside her, she will have passed a point of no return. Sure, we’ve gone pretty far, taken some pretty intimate liberties, but she could still say we haven’t had sex and not be totally lying. She knows that, I know that. She just needs to decide.
    Her lips press together suddenly, and she lifts the condom. Sets it against the head of my cock and rolls it down in a single, decisive gesture. When I’m fully covered, she reaches back and cradles my balls, rolling them in her slim fingers. I grunt, because moaning isn’t manly. Neither is screaming, and I just might if she doesn’t get on with it.
    Still, I hold still, waiting for her to make the move. It’ll be that much more certain if she’s the one to do it. I reach forward and touch her clit, thinking it might give her some incentive.
    Apparently it does. She tosses her head back at the touch, making a sound deep in her throat. I push my finger a little deeper between her folds, and she shifts herself forward, her pussy slipping over my shaft. It’s still hot and wet—maybe even wetter than it was. She’s so ready for this. I’m certainly not going to make her wait one second longer than she has to.
    She’s going to make me wait, though. For at least another second. Finally she reaches down, takes hold of me, and holds my cock still while she lowers herself onto it.
    God. Even with the condom on, I can feel every rough texture of her, every squeeze as she takes me in. At first she settles for about half my length and moves herself upward again, and then she eases down all the way. We’re still like that for a moment, me deep inside her, Sarah sitting with her hand down between her legs. My fingers touch hers there, and finally she arches her back and starts to move in earnest.
    She rocks in a rhythm that’s easy at first, then faster. She’s squeezing me tight on every lift of her body, and the heat shoots through me like electricity. I move my fingers, making sure they’re touching her clit on each down stroke. She starts to grind against my hand. I could come now, I think, if I wanted to, but I want to see her lose it one more time.
    It takes a few minutes, but I can tell she wants it. She bucks and grinds, looking down at my hand between our bodies, at my fingers toying with her clit. She’s clenched so tight on me now it almost hurts, and it’s all I can do to hold off my own climax so she can find hers.
    And then she does. Abruptly she goes completely still. Her eyes flutter closed, her back bows forward, and I feel the deep, intense pulsations ripping through her, clenching and releasing on my cock. She’s silent this time, her mouth open, her body shaking.
    I give her a few seconds that feel like an eternity to ride it out. Then, as she’s finally taking in a long, slow, shuddery breath, I grasp her waist and flip her over.
    She’s under me now, where I’ve wanted her for days. I’m still inside her, and even as she starts adjusting, wrapping her legs around my waist, I start to pound into her, fucking her as hard as I can into the mattress. She starts to whimper again, and say my name. It’s all a blur of sound and sensation—I can’t focus on anything but my own body. She’s so tight, so hot, so deep, and I take every inch of her with all I’ve got.
    It doesn’t take much. My body’s been teetering on the edge for what feels like ages. A few of those hard, fast, deep, intense