“Being inside her was his second priority. His first? Making her come so hard against his fingers she'd feel the aftershocks for days.
August slipped a finger inside her. Her hips' movement quickened.
"Just like that, August." Her moan acted as rocket fuel to his lust. He added another finger, sliding in and out of her. His plan had been to go slow, but shit, she was so tight and so fucking wet and it felt so damned good. She squeezed her inner muscles around him. He bent his fingers, rubbing against the spot inside her that made her go wild. With his other hand, he rubbed circles around her clit.
"Shit, Sloane," he gritted out when her hand wrapped around his dick. This was supposed to be all about her.
"Two can play this game," she whispered in his ear. "I bet I can make you come before you make me come."
He was a professional athlete. Competitiveness flowed through his veins. "You're on."
Two minutes later, he was questioning his life's choices. He'd been so sure he could win this bet. Why? His hubris was going to be the death of him, but what a way to go. Her fingers were magical.
"Shit," he moaned when she rubbed some of her wetness along the head of his dick and then up and down his length. Just following the movement of her fingers nearly short-circuited his brain. Her fingers moved a little easier, up and down with one hand and squeezing with the other. She knew he didn't like a gentle hand. He was fucking close. But not yet. Not yet. Not until he'd given her all the pleasure he could. Not until he made her feel more than she'd ever felt.
They fell into a decadent rhythm, fully intuned to the other. She moved her hand up and down his length at the same tempo he slid his fingers in and out of her, just like they would if she was riding his dick. He was so fucking close. August ground his teeth into dust. In due time.”