“You don’t have to do this. You can tap out whenever you want.”
My lips curl up in a smile. “I don’t want to.”
He mutters something incoherent and then presses his cock against my ass. “Are you too tired for this?”
I gasp as the head of his cock finds my already sore pussy, and instinctively, I lean forward. “I don’t think I’m ever too tired for you.”
“Mm,” he hums, pressing into me. “That’s my good girl.”
His tone lights me up, and I push my ass back, further guiding him into me. He lets out a groan and then grabs my waist with both hands. “I wanna fuck you so hard right now,” he grits out.
My pussy clenches around him. “Then do it,” I breathe out, reaching forward and bracing my hands against the wall. “As hard as you can.”
He leans back and then thrusts into me, the slapping noise louder than the shower head. I let out a moan as he repeats, pounding into the back of me without any mercy at all. I squeeze my eyes shut and slide my hand between my legs, rubbing with the same force as his body against mine.
And my moans only get louder.
Then turn to fucking screams.
Noah’s fingertips bruise my skin, his cock stretches me, and his balls thump against my ass. My orgasm lights up my entire body, and my pussy clamps down around his cock, pulsing as his name breaks my lips.
“Goddamn, that feels so good,” Noah growls behind me, and then pumps into me one final time, his cock releasing deep inside of me.
I pant beneath the water as he collapses forward, placing a kiss on my shoulder.
“I can’t get enough of you,” he rasps, his tone almost aching. “I don’t know if I ever will.”
Emotions well up in my chest, and I squeeze my eyes shut, hating the relief that comes with his words. I want him to always be like this. I wantthis,Noah.
Not the icy cold version.
By the timethe water runs cold, and we finally stumble back into the spare bedroom, Noah has absolutely nothing left in the tank. The adrenaline and the climax completely wipe him out. He collapses onto the mattress, his wet hair dark against thepillow, and within minutes, his breathing deepens into a heavy, even rhythm.
I lay beside him for a long time, listening to his heartbeat. But as the house settles, the familiar, buzzing edge of anxiety begins to creep back up my spine.
I can’t sleep. My mind is moving a million miles a minute. The motorcycle, the border, Maricopa, Mexico... It’s a chaotic whirlwind of variables that I have zero control over.
And the sunlight is peeking through the curtains.
I carefully slide out of bed, leaving Noah to rest, and pull on my gray sweatpants and my oversized T-shirt. I walk out into the hallway and check on Bullet. He hasn’t moved an inch. I gently pet his head, my chest aching at how sluggish he feels, before making my way back to the kitchen.
I grab the bottle of lemon-scented cleaner and the rag from under the sink. I already scrubbed the kitchen, so my eyes drift down the dark hallway. There’s the master bedroom, which I have zero desire to enter, and then the second spare room directly across from ours.
Slowly, I push the door open.
It’s pitch black and smells…differentthan the rest of the house, though it’s hard to pinpoint why. I fumble along the wall until I find the light switch and flick it upward.
A dingy overhead light illuminates the space. Is it set up almost like a child’s room? There’s a small twin-sized bed up against the window. I take a step toward it, my eyes noting the bars.
What the fuck?
I pull the door partially shut behind me, so the light doesn’t wake Noah. I set the cleaner down on the small writing desk near the door, and then ease toward the bed.
And that’s when I see the glint of metal.
That is not what I think it is. It can’t be.
But as I kneel down to investigate closer, itiswhat I think it is.Handcuffs.Used ones. They’re on a chain, and I can’t even stomach the thought of touching them.
