“Do it again,” I growl.
London strokes the injury she inflicted, owning me with each agonizing touch. “Is this what love feels like?” she asks.
I crave her pain like my lungs crave air. “This is what our love feels like.”
“Make me your sinner, Grayson,” she breathes. “I don’t want redemption. I want us.”
I kiss the cuts on her wrists, the marks I put there. The sight of them, the feel of them beneath my lips, only heightens the urge to mark her more. To claim her in a way no one else ever has. My teeth scrape over her shoulder before I bite into the curve of her neck, drawing a soft, breathless cry from her lips.
We tear at my clothes in a frenzy of stolen touches and whispered, heated avowals, impatient. Ravenous. The shared pain building to a staccato rhythm, a pulse of insatiable need. To be closer. To be skin to skin. The hard slab of earth beneath us grounds every movement, amplifies every sensation.
I roll her on top of me, gazing up at her naked body. Breasts bared, hair wild, no trace of shame in her beautiful eyes. I flatten my hand against her stomach as she arches her back, grinding her slick lips along the hard length of me and working a string of expletives free.
“Fuck, you’re killing me,” I groan as I lift up to meet the devastating and sexy roll of her hips.
She collapses over me, her hair cascading down one shoulder, falling like a curtain between us and the rest of the world. I let her cage me in, her strength thrumming through her limbs, into me—jacking my pulse. She wears her dominance beautifully.
“What if I could,” she whispers into the shell of my ear. Herteeth nick my flesh as she braces against the ground and drives back hard, obliterating the rest of my restraint.
A growl rips from my throat as I seize her wrist and bring her hand to my neck, guiding her fingers to my jugular. I squeeze until she feels my firing pulse. “If you’re going to tease, you’d better be willing to back it up.”
A deviant glint sparks in her eyes. “You’re serious.”
“I’d suffer any torture willingly, so long as it comes at your hands. My sick matches your sick.” I drag her fingers to my mouth and suck them. “Touch yourself,” I command.
She obeys without hesitation. Arching back, she slides those delicate fingers to her clit, rubbing in slow circles, driving her need higher. I groan at her hot and wet sliding over me. Torture doesn’t begin to describe how punishing the feel of her is as her climax builds, thighs tightening around me, muscles clenching for release.
Wild and unrestrained, I rise up and hook an arm around her lower back. I anchor her to me, swallowing her gasp as I sink into her.
Our eyes lock.
Every torturous second I hold still inside her stretches into eternity.
Her nails rake up my back, and that simple act triggers her body to flex around me, detonating something primal. I slam into her. Fingers gripping at the dirt behind me, I thrust into the perfect center of her, completely undone.
Her soft cries fall against my mouth, and I taste her pleas, answering each one with another unguarded thrust.
The feel of being inside her annihilates every belief I held before her.
This is heaven—the only heaven I care to enter.
She’s my truth now.
She peaks. I peak. Our bodies rise and fall together, cresting higher, crashing harder. The emotion thrumming between us isfucking unbearable. The urge to inflict and to feel pain is overwhelming—feeling too much. Maddening.
“God, Grayson, hurt me…make me feel you,” she pleads, and a violent shiver tears through me.
When pain is the only emotion you’ve ever known, it’s all you crave. It’s the one thing that lets you know you’re still alive.
My hands are touching her all over, greedy and searching, mapping out every delicate region of flesh. I drag my fingers down her skin, streaking her body with dirt from my palms—marking her as mine. My beautiful mess.
“God-fucking-dammit, I love you filthy like this, London.”
The abrasive grit of it rubs between us as we fuck. Ruthless, relentless. There’s nothing tender here—only hunger. Fucking like two insatiable, wild animals that are starving for each other.
I bite down on the firm peak of her nipple, and she throws her head back, welcoming the sharp pain. Too many ways in which I could hurt her ravage my thoughts, every one of them tearing at my weakening control.
I cup her shoulders from behind, forcing her to arch and bare her beautiful tits to me as I drive into her, each thrust more punishing than the last, but the need to go deeper breaks my sanity.
