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I smash my lips against his, and he stumbles to the side, falling back into the small sofa that sits against the far wall of the office. Grinding my hips forward, I press against his thick, hard cock and let out a low gasp.
His large, rough hands drift up, sliding beneath my shirt. When his fingertips reach the swell of my breast, he pulls the cup of my bra down, gripping my nipple between his index finger and thumb, rolling the sensitive flesh between his fingers, and quiet moans of pleasure leave my lips.
Our lips part for air and he quickly shifts, peppering my neck with kisses and nibbles, leaving no exposed flesh untouched.
I snake my hand between us, pop the button of his jeans, and slowly unzip his zipper. Wet tears roll down my face, and I don’t even know when I started crying, or why, but they flow freely like a waterfall. He does this to me every fucking time. He’s always left me incapable of hiding my emotions.
He brings one hand to my cheek and swipes away tears with his thumb, then pops his thumb into his mouth, consuming the saline evidence of my uncontrollable desire for him.
Pulling his thumb from his mouth, he grips the back of my head with his bloodied hand and rests his forehead against mine, “Let it all go,” he whispers. “Take what you need from me my little runaway. It’s yours.”
Sliding my hand into his pants, I pull his thick, hard cock out of the confines of his jeans and run my fingertips across all of the metal. He sucks in a breath and rolls his eyes back, shuddering as I play with the curved metal barbell at the tip.
With my other hand, I push my skirt up, slide my panties to the side, and impale myself on his cock without hesitation.
A stifled moan leaves his lips and the feral whimper he makes, gets me hotter and wetter than I ever thought possible. Wrapping my hands around the back of his head, I hold on tightly, keeping our foreheads pressed together. Hot saline rolls down my cheeks as I lift up and slide back down his shaft, rolling my hips.
“That’s it baby, use me,” he growls.
Trembling beneath his touch, I let his fingers roam my body, exploring, coming to rest on my hips. Gripping hard, he slides me up and down faster, pushing and pulling my hips in a rhythmic pace, his cock hitting me in all the right places. His piercings grazing me in that perfect way that makes my eyes roll back and my toes curl.
The heat from his breath and mine intermingle in the space between us as I ride him, chasing my orgasm. My pussy spasms, and I can feel myself teetering on the edge. Travis must sense it too because he rolls his head to the side and whispers in my ear, “Come for me babygirl,” as he bounces me faster on his dick.
Babygirl.
His old nickname for me is my undoing. My knees dig into the sofa, and I fall apart on top of him. My hands slide through his hair to the top of his head, and I pull his face into my chest as I slam down hard and grind against his pelvis. My come drips from my pussy, and everything between us is slick and wet. I can barely hold myself up as my body convulses with pleasure.
“Fill me up Travis, please,” I manage to choke out as I try to catch my breath.
It’s as if he was waiting for those words. Waiting for my permission. He grabs my ass cheeks and lifts me up, flipping us over so he’s on top of me. He thrusts into me so hard, and so fast, that I never come down from my first orgasm before I roll right into another one.
My legs shake as I pull them up around his waist and he releases a feral groan into my ear, “fuck.”
Thick warm come fills me and I free-fall right off that cliff, knowing that there’s no fucking turning back this time.
Chapter twenty
Travis
I’m balls deep in Spencer, our collective come dripping down my inner thigh, with my pants shoved around my knees, and I can’t even fucking think straight. Pushing myself up with one arm, I look down into her eyes. The soulful, emerald green pools that have always completely and utterly wrecked me.
Neither of us speak.
Last time this happened she ran.
I find myself holding my breath. Waiting. I’m scared to fucking inhale, to move, to blink or even so much as flinch because my little runaway is unpredictable these days. One wrong move and I’ll spook her.
She’s got me so fucked up right now.
I’m a stone cold killer. I can skin someone alive and feel nothing. I can watch the lights go out in their eyes and then go eat dinner still wearing their blood. I walk through life choosing not to feel shit, and it’s so goddamn easy.
But her? After all these years, I’m still ass over head, stupid in love with this woman, and I swear on my dead mother’s grave if she tries to run this time, I’m going to tie her to my fucking bed and never let her leave. Because I can’t lose her again. Fuck every stupid thought I’ve ever had about giving her time to choose me.
She’s already mine.
Both of our breathing slows as we catch our breath. So many emotions are swirling beneath the surface, and the more I look into her big green eyes, the more pronounced the bruise appears. Hints of blue and purple peeking out from the shadows. Considering I just busted a nut, I’m fairly fucking calm, but it’s slipping. Rage is beginning to bubble beneath my skin. I know he’s the one that did this to her, and I’m going to fucking kill him.
I made the mistake of letting someone who hurt her off with a warning before, and I damn sure am not going to make that mistake again. I came here to confront her about Grant again, but this feels like a more pressing matter. I can’t let her go home where that piece of shit can get anywhere near her.
