The Road to Rose Bend by Naima Simone (best book club books of all time txt) 📕

foil open, he removed the protection and sheathed himself in economical movements that should’ve been far from sexy. But everything this man did screamed sex. And though she’d just enjoyed an epic orgasm, her body hummed; her sex softened, quivered.

Maddox was going to be inside her.

That alone—and those thick, tree-trunk, hair-dusted thighs cradling that beautiful cock—was enough to have her aching and empty.

She stretched her arms toward him, and he captured one of her hands, pressing a kiss to the palm. Using his grasp as leverage, he gently pulled her to a sitting position. Frowning, she stared up at him, but when his hand lowered to her hip and squeezed, his intention dawned as clear as a bright summer day.

Unease flooded her, momentarily batting back the clawing need. She’d never had sex in this position with her ex, because he hadn’t liked the view. No, he’d never vocalized the words, but she knew. What if Maddox...? She shook her head, lowering back to the blanket. No, she couldn’t...

His hand shot out, cradling the nape of her neck. He shifted, crouching over her. “I don’t know what just went through your head, but when I said I wanted to see all of you, I meant all. There’s no part of you that I don’t find fucking gorgeous and sexy. No. Part.” He planted a hot, openmouthed kiss to the sensitive skin under her ear. “Turn over and get on your hands and knees for me. I’ve dreamed about this ass,” he murmured, squeezing her hip and the upper part of her behind. “Now be the brave woman you are and give it to me.”

Lust razed her to the ground, and part of her wondered how she wasn’t a pile of ashes. She blinked up at him, and in that moment, she would’ve offered him anything.

She’d already given him more than was wise.

Slowly, she turned, moving until she did as he asked, pressing her hands and knees to the blanket. Fire tinged her face. She felt too vulnerable, too exposed. She couldn’t do this. Couldn’t...

His hands stroked up her back, curling over her shoulders, then retracing the path, not stopping until he cupped her behind.

“Better than any dream,” he said, squeezing her flesh.

He bent over her, trailing his lips down her spine, lingering at the base to tongue the slight dip. His hands cradled her hips, his touch somehow...worshipful. His caress reverent. And like that, her doubts, her insecurities evaporated, and she believed him. Believed he’d dreamed about her. Wouldn’t reject her.

Wanted her.

He moved up her body, his chest pressed to her back. She closed her eyes, picturing them together. His huge frame covering her, his golden skin contrasting and complementing her darker tone. His silken auburn hair tangling with her coarser darker curls as he bent his head over hers.

“Take me?” he rasped, his lips grazing the shell of her ear.

“Yes. I’m yours.” The words slipped from her, unbidden. But she couldn’t revoke them. Because she meant them. God, no matter how stupid of her, she meant them.

With a deep, almost tortured groan that vibrated from his chest and through her back, he thrust into her.

Her head flew back on her shoulders, a sharp wail erupting from her. Her spine arched from the clash of pleasure and pain. The combination ricocheted through her like a discordant yet harmonious duet, and she shook with it.

His arm wrapped around her waist like a steel band, holding her to him. His low words barely penetrated, but the soothing, rumbled tone did. Second by second, muscle by muscle, she relaxed. Her sex quivered around his huge, thick length and width, slowly acclimating itself to the intrusion.

“Easy, baby.” He scattered gentle but feverish kisses to her ear, her nape, the tops of her shoulders. “Relax and breathe for me. You can take me. There’s nothing you can’t do.”

He held still above her, but as time ticked by, it wasn’t enough. The threads of pain segued into a taut, greedy need that only he could assuage. But to do that, he had to move.

“Maddox.” She flexed her hips, moaned as pleasure undulated through her. “I need you to...”

“Yeah,” he finished for her.

He withdrew, his stiff flesh dragging through her ultrasensitive sheath, setting off tiny pulses and sparks. She whimpered, and when he buried himself back inside her, it turned into a cry. Hands gripping her hips, he rode her, stroking into her. Reshaping her, branding her so she was his and his alone. No one else would do for her after him. No one could fill her to capacity and beyond, chase away the emptiness, make her...feel.

Not content to be passive, she bucked her hips, grinding against him, urging him to take her harder, faster, thrusting back on his cock. His dirty chuckle floated over her, as did his dark, low urging to “go on and get what you want,” that “it’s yours.” His words inflamed her, drove her to crash and burn with him.

Once more, he covered her, one hand folding around her breast, pinching the turgid nipple and the other slipping between her slick, trembling thighs.

“Give it to me, baby,” he growled, fingers circling her engorged button, rubbing it. “Give everything to me.”

With a choked, almost soundless scream, she broke. Cracked. Exploded into pieces, so many pieces. Her mind flew in one direction, her soul in the other. And her body... Her body belonged to him. Was grounded by him.

As she drifted back to some semblance of sanity, Maddox stiffened over her, his hips snapping and powering into her. He seized, his long groan echoing in her ear as he came, his heavy frame blanketing her as they both tumbled to the blanket.

He rolled, gathering her in his arms, his thick legs tangled with hers. Silence fell around them, broken only by their rough breath.

“Stay.” His low, ragged voice belied the tender stroking of his hand up and down her spine. “Stay with me.”

“Maddox.” Emotion—need, sadness, fear—clogged her throat, and she tried to pull away.

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