Just One More Night by Caitlin Crews (ereader iphone txt) 📕

words again, but that time, it had sounded like a song. Then he’d shoved her tank top up, securing the fabric beneath the strap of the little backpack she’d forgotten she was wearing, so he could get his mouth on her breast.

God. His mouth. On her breast.

In Prague, remembering, Indy felt herself flush all over.

Back in Budapest, she’d arched back as best she could between the steering wheel and his hard body, letting her head fall back into sheer bliss.

Indy had been lost somewhere between his mouth on her nipple as he sucked, hard, and the way she rocked her own clit against his cock. He was shockingly huge, and his fingers were blunt and too clever as they plunged inside her from behind.

In her head, it had gone on forever, but she doubted it had. Because she couldn’t take it and came again, clenching hard on his fingers.

You are a witch, he’d muttered.

Indy had felt like a witch. Sex was always fun...but this was something else. It was like every single part of her had been made for every single part of him. As if nothing he could possibly do to her would feel anything but amazing. Because they’d been built for this.

She’d looked at him and been his. Their eyes had met over a gun, for God’s sake, and there they were—and all Indy had wanted was more.

Reality couldn’t intrude. It hadn’t.

He’d reached between them. Indy had sat back as best she could, aware of the steering wheel digging into her in a way that should have been unpleasant, but wasn’t. She’d liked the little spear of not-quite-pain, because that had meant it was real. It had really been happening.

This liquid heat, this glorious, endless explosion had truly been happening.

And his cock was a thing of glory.

He’d pulled it out, wincing because he was so hard. Indy’s mouth had actually fallen open as she’d gazed down at where he rose between them. She’d felt her clit pulse and her core go molten.

You know what to do, he’d told her, and though his voice was quiet, there was that roughness to it, that command, that made her entire body break out in goose bumps.

But she’d felt that she did know what to do. That her entire life had been a dress rehearsal and that night in that SUV on an empty street in Budapest, of all places, had been the show, at last.

Indy had thought that very distinctly: At last.

She’d felt like crying. Like weeping with joy that she’d gotten to kneel up, even though her knees were still scraped—and that should probably have bothered her more. She’d felt emotional and beautiful and so connected to him it had hurt. It had hurt, when Indy was all about her fun and her orgasms, but even the hurt of it felt good.

And that was before she’d braced herself with one hand on the headrest behind him. Then reached between them so she could guide the massive head of his cock to her pussy at last.

At last.

Because it had felt like she’d already waited a lifetime and she hadn’t even known his name.

But Indy had known it was true, even then. She’d been looking for him, for that wildfire connection between them and his dangerous saint’s face, for a lifetime already without realizing he’d been her goal all along.

Something she couldn’t have realized until she’d seen him, could she? Because only then had it been clear.

His hands had not been gentle. He’d shoved one into her hair and the other had gripped her ass, hard.

Indy had known many things then. That he was not a good man in the way she’d previously conceived of that phrase. That what she was doing was not a good idea, no matter how it felt. And that no one would ever understand how this had not only happened—but why she had made it happen.

But she had never been the good sister.

Because she also knew—as their gazes had clashed again, as she had notched the wide head of his cock at the mouth of her pussy—that this man was her fate.

That she had always been meant for this.

Right there. With him.

Now, he’d ordered her.

She hadn’t understood until then that she’d been waiting for that, too. For him.

It had felt like running to the edge of a terrible cliff and then throwing herself off. And not caring at all, in the final moment, if she would fall or fly.

Indy had slammed herself down, impaling herself on him.

And she’d screamed out as she did it because he was so big that it hurt, so big that it was wildly, astonishingly uncomfortable to take all of him like that, and so fast.

But she’d known there was no other way to do it. It was like a kind of virginity because it was him. Them. It was theirs, the agony she was prepared to put herself through for one staggering beat of her heart. Then another.

And it had been entirely worth it when his mouth crooked up in one corner.

Foolish girl, he’d said in that quietly dark way of his that made everything in her sing. I like that you want to suffer for me.

Then he’d moved.

And any suffering she’d felt was gone that easily.

Because he’d fucked her like he’d known all the same things she did.

Like his cock, that big, battering ram of a cock, had been specifically designed to hit everywhere she’d needed it. He’d kept his hard hand on her ass, lifting her and slamming her in time with his thrusts, so that all she could do was melt into it. Become part of it.

His other hand, tangled in her hair, had kept her arched back so he could get his mouth on her throat, her lips. Down to her breasts and back again as he liked.

And he’d liked.

Indy had lost track of how many times she’d come. Again and again. Over and over. Because it turned out that what he liked, she liked, too.

And on he’d