Page 97 of Striker’s Rebel

I work her slowly at first, thumb finding her clit while two fingers curl inside her.

Her hips start moving against my hand.

“More.”

“You spent the last five minutes giving me shit about my age.”

“I take it back.”

“Convenient.”

“Striker.”

I laugh under my breath and give her what she’s asking for.

Her fingers tighten against the edge of the table as I work her harder, feeling her getting closer.

Then I pull my hand away.

June makes an offended sound.

“Asshole.”

“Thought you wanted more.”

“I do.”

“Then quit complaining.”

I open my jeans and free my cock, dragging the head through her wetness.

Her breath catches.

I push inside her in one deep stroke.

Fuck.

Two years and that first second still gets me.

June moans against the table, body tightening around me while I hold still long enough to feel every inch of her.

“Still think I’m soft?”

She turns her head enough to glare at me.

“Are you seriously asking me that now?”

I grin.

“Answer.”

“Fuck you.”

“Working on it.”

Her laugh turns into a moan when I pull back and drive into her again.

I grip her hips and settle into a hard rhythm, giving her exactly what she likes. Deep enough to make her lose the attitude. Fast enough that the table starts shifting beneath us.