“Shush.” Calix strokes his fingers mostly over my hair, but he misses and ends up dragging his sleep heavy hand half down my face, pulling down my lips.
“I can’t shush, I can barely breathe,” I growl out dramatically.
I feel Calix pop his head off the pillow. “What’s wrong?” Instead of releasing me, he gathers me even closer against his body.
“Let me up. It’s too hot.” I groan and start to wiggle. I seriously need out of this bed. His weight slides off me and I bolt upright. “Stars, is the air even on?” I utter Grim’s curse, looking around the room to see if the bed has somehow been teleported to a dimension of Hell.
“It’s the South.” I look over my shoulder and watch Calix wiggle a bit, getting comfortable again. He’s only wearing his white jockey undies. It’s a fucking sin he can make them look so good. The bulge he sports would be hard pressed to look anything but delectable in any form of underclothes.
Shaking my head, I scoot off the end of the bed. The slight whirl of air circling my skin causes gooseflesh on my arms. I make my way to the bathroom, tugging my damp shirt off as I go, and toss it on the worn carpet.
The hotel room curtains are heavy, leaving the room fairly dark, but I’m still able to see myself in the small oval mirror over the pedestal sink. My hair is a matted mess and slightly damp at the back of my neck and around my temples. “Damn.” I flip the tap on and cup the cool water in my palms to splash on my cheeks. After the third time, I decide I need more than a couple handfuls. Abandoning the sink altogether, I head to the shower instead.
The cold water makes me shiver at first, but it’s such a relief that I let the water soak my hair and back before warming it up a little bit and continuing my shower.
I use the entire tiny bottle of conditioner on my hair, making sure to coat the ends the most. It’s still going to be a bear to brush, but it’s better than nothing. The room darkens slightly, so I peer over my shoulder to see Gunnar leaning against the doorframe. I open my mouth to ask him if he would like to join me, but he lifts his finger to his mouth, silently telling me to be quiet.
I arch an eyebrow in challenge, but before I can respond, he steals my words by sliding his big hand to the front of his boxers and gripping his dick. Forgetting all about my objection, I watch him, transfixed on the movement of his arm as he watches me while giving himself a few lazy strokes.
Gunnar pushes away from the doorframe and hooks his thumbs into the waist of his shorts, pushing them down his thighs. He’s already hard, and his dick pops up a tiny bit when freed. Not taking his eyes off me, he taps the door closed a little, making sure to leave it open enough so the small bathroom won’t be left in complete darkness.
I slide the shower door open and stand back, allowing him entrance. Gunnar lets out a small gasp when the water hits him. It’s not nearly as cold as it once was, but it’s nowhere near hot either. I open my mouth again, but he steals my voice by slamming his lips against mine in a punishing kiss. I rip my face away from him and glare, but he ignores me and crowds even closer until my back is against the white tile of the small cubical shower.
No longer even registering the temperature of the water, Gunnar strokes his fingers up my body. His touch is rough, as even the skin on the palms of his hands is scarred and callused, reminding me there isn’t much that’s gentle about the beast in front of me—other than his heart that is, and only when it comes to me.
He skates his wandering touch farther up until he places his hand right over my mouth and leans against me so hard my breaths turn to shallow pants. Lowering his head, he whispers, “I need my cream,” in my ear. If my lips could move, I would be smiling at his kitten reference, but not even that is possible at the moment.
Gunnar’s free hand hooks behind my knee and jerks my thigh up high on his hip. Without any warning, he nudges his way into me. Being turned on isn’t an issue—my body craves his—but his invasion still burns a little in the best possible way. My eyes slide closed as every bit of tension that was in my body falls away when he’s finally fully inside me.
Assuming my submission, Gunnar starts to loosen the grip on my jaw. I open my eyes and squint at him in annoyance. I don’t want him soft and gentle. I want him to lose himself in me, to use me the same way I plan on using every inch of him.
Gunnar licks his lips, and as he exhales, his shoulders grow while he curls around me even tighter. I feel the slight prick of his fingernails against my cheek. He’s on edge, the monster inside him is fighting to be present, and that’s exactly what I want.
Size-wise, he dwarfs me, but we match perfectly in intensity. My hands feel small on his wide back as I skim them over him, but I make the most of it by clawing my fingers into his flesh. These scars will be mine, mine to lick and nurse until every inch of him is sated, even the Berserker.
When Gunnar opens his mouth to let out a huff of air, I see his teeth and jaw have shifted, the razor points filling his mouth in an unnatural way. In the next second, he pushes himself even deeper inside me, and I claw my way up his back until my arms are wrapped around his neck and my legs are around his waist.
His face alters to a sneer, and he growls before he really starts fucking me. I have no idea why he was worried about me making a noise, because it sounds like he’s going to put me right through the tile wall every time he slams into me. I can’t do much but hold on for the ride, but what a fucking ride it is. Every touch borders on painful, but not enough to actually hurt, just enough to make sure every nerve ending in my body is alive and focused on what might happen next.
“You make me fucking crazy,” Gunnar snarls between thrusts. I shake my head, thinking it might dislodge his hand, but it only makes him tighten his grip to ensure I can barely breathe, let alone speak. There’s not an ounce of fear inside me, and it has nothing to do with the fact that I’m basically immortal. No, it’s because I trust him implicitly. I know he would never really hurt me.
The realization comes as my body tightens around him with an impending orgasm. I trust him, I trust all three of them. I don’t even know when it happened, but the truth is there in my soul, undeniable.
Gunnar makes a grunting sound and his hand loosens. On instinct, I gasp, searching for air. Colors flood my vision that have nothing to do with what I’m actually seeing. My teeth start to chatter as I tip my head back, and the apex of an orgasm hits me hard enough that I have to grit my teeth to stop myself from screaming. A high-pitched groan that I can’t contain escapes me.
Gunnar’s forehead hits the tile over my shoulder as his quick, short breaths pant over my neck and chest. He continues to move inside me, his strokes smooth and deep as he holds me up completely. I don’t know when my arms fell away from his neck, but I’m all loose limbs.
Moments later, it’s easy to feel the tension in Gunnar’s body build. I barely have the energy to open my eyes, but when I do, I see him, avoiding my gaze while simultaneously trying to look at me.
“What’s wrong?” I pinch the bottom of his chin and force him to look at me. Tiny drops of water bounce off his back and splash my eyes, making me blink rapidly now that he’s not completely covering me.
Gunnar swallows, his eyes as big as saucers. He looks so completely human in this moment. I move my grip from his chin and caress his jaw instead. “Are you…” He swallows, and his voice comes out a little steadier when he starts again. “Are you okay?” His brows dip with the question, furrowing into a heavy frown.
My insides go a little gooey, which should be illegal, and I slide my arm back around his neck, cuddling close to his body. “I am, in fact, more than okay. I’m perfect,” I purr into his ear. Gunnar shudders as a shiver works its way up his spine.
“Are you sure I didn’t hurt you?” He sounds so vulnerable.
I lean back to make sure he can see my face when I answer. “Gunnar, you didn’t hurt me. That was…” I want to tell him how much it means that I trust him enough to give myself over so freely, but the words don’t come easily. “That was fucking hot,” I say instead. “I knew you could fuck me like you hated me.”
