My thighs tremble against the cool granite of the kitchen island, Jace’s c**k buried deep inside me as he pins me against the edge. His hands grip my waist, pulling me back onto him with every thrust, each one harder, hungrier, making my body sing with forbidden need.
The house is silent except for the soft, wet sounds of our bodies and my stifled gasps. Mom’s asleep upstairs, probably dreaming of the man who’s f*****g her daughter senseless right now, and the thought makes me wetter, my core clenching around him.
It’s 2 a.m., and the kitchen is bathed in moonlight streaming through the window. I’d snuck down for a glass of water, still buzzing from our poolside hookup two nights ago, when Jace appeared like a predator in the dark. He didn’t say a word—just grabbed me, spun me around, a
