“It’s not enough,” I growl against her.
“Fucking make it enough, Grayson. Hurt me.”
A guttural sound tears from my throat as I shove her down into the dirt, grabbing her leg and dragging it over my shoulder before slamming our hips together. Her fingers splay across the hard lines of my stomach as I rut into her, a depraved demon.
The need still demands more.
Her body bends to mine like it was made for this, begging to be manhandled, built to take everything I give. With a low growl, I flip her over and slide a hand beneath her pelvis, lifting her perfect ass into position. I seize her wrists, anchoring them behind her trim back in one tight grip.
She’s bared. Vulnerable. Fucking breathtaking.
My groin throbs as I ease up behind her, heart thundering hard enough to crack my ribs. I sink inside her to the hilt, and she bucks against me at the pressure—only to rock back, undulating those sinful hips, begging for more.
“Fucking Christ,” I breathe as I thrust deeper, forcing her wrists toward the center of her back.
She releases a throaty curse, her core pulsing tight around me. I’m a starved animal with no remorse, driven mad with the desire to fill her and take her unfurling in the sweetest agony.
I fuck her violently. I fuck her brutally against the cold, unforgiving earth. Beneath the open night sky, under our canopy of starry keys, I make love to her the only way I know how.
I’m beyond falling dangerously in love with her—she’s dominated my being since I first saw her, tasted her. And as pressure builds at the base of my spine, speeding my thrusts, she clenches hard around me.
“Ah, goddamn…fuck—London.” I drop her name like a sacred chant against her back as the shattering pleasure seizes me, making me lost. My cock throbs as I release deep inside her.
She comes shamelessly. She comes without fear or guilt. She comes so hard she nearly pushes me out, but I crash back into her, breaking against her wave.
For a few suspended seconds as we both come down, the pain bleeds away. I fall against her, dragging in ragged breaths, my mouth sweeping over her slick skin so I can consume every last bit of her in this moment.
Fucking euphoria.
She slips free of my weight and pushes me to the ground, where she curls on top of me. Fitting together like she was made for me.
“Peace,” she whispers.
I wrap my arms around her. I’ve never felt peace before. Icradle her to me, allowing this foreign emotion to own me the same way she possesses me entirely.
We lie beneath the glimmering canopy of red until her breath evens out, steady against my chest.
I don’t want this to end.
But all too soon, the world and its demands steal into our moment, my thoughts darkening.
There’s only one way for London to truly be free.
30
BURN
LONDON
The blazing heat of a furnace warms the side of my face. The contrast between that heat and the chilly air rips me from a dreamless sleep, awareness crashing into the calm.
For once, my mind is blissfully silent—of past torments, of present fears—until reality bleeds in, drawing me into a fresh realm of anxiety.
Heated orange and red flicker behind my eyelids.
I reach for Grayson—and freeze as metalclinksagainst my wrist. Cold steel slides across my arm. Eyes straining to open, an internal alarm sounds, and my heart pounds against my ribs as blood surges through my arteries.
I feel disconnected, disoriented, blinking a few times to clear my vision, and the sight hollows out my chest.
