And it hits, it hits, it…he…fuck.
My brain short circuits. All I can hear is the pounding of his body, slamming into me, over and over.
All I can feel is ecstasy. I don’t know if I’ve already hit my orgasm. I don’t know if I’m still riding it out or if it is to come. It’s just purefeeling,pure rhythm and carnage and craving.
I never want it to end. I want to be used like this forever. I want to drown in the feeling of him inside of me. I want to be resurrected by the hands that grip me tight enough to bruise.
A lifetime passes. An arm scoops me up. His rhythm accelerates. I’ve come undone at some point. I’m just his to have and to hold.
There’s a groan, and I’m lifted up entirely. His lips are on my neck, on the side of my face, desperate and wanting, andGoddo I want them.
He shudders beneath me, and he holds me so, so close as he finishes. His lips are wherever he can find skin, and I sink into his embrace.
Take me, hold me, I’m yours.
And I can’t think of any reason at all why that could be a terrible, awful idea.
14
LEON
Mia Natali is a very dangerous and precious thing.
It might not be the first time I’ve thought it, but she surely embodies it in this very moment, lying peacefully in my bed.
In sleep, there’s something wholly innocent about her. No frown lines to mar her smooth skin, no flames behind her endlessly green eyes. The effect is entirely angelic.
I’m staring at her when her eyes eventually flutter open, and…no,nowshe looks angelic.
“Good morning.” There’s a small smile playing in the corner of her mouth.
I lean in to kiss her softly. Her perfect lips are slow to respond and the kiss is chaste, but they send something entirely lovely through my chest.
She sighs into it.
Everything feels easier in the warm morning light, wrapped in sheets, wrapped up inher.
“Leon…what is this?”
Even that question feels somehow easier. There’s less heat, less anger, less longing.
Her hand reaches for mine. The edge of her bandages crumple slightly as she strokes across my palm.
“I don’t know,” I confess back. Then, after thinking about it, I say, “Something important.”
She nods as if this is a satisfying answer.
We just lay in silence, stealing this moment by stretching it out as long as we can.
“I’m so angry at you. All the time, I’m angry, but there’s alsothis.” She stops stroking my hand to squeeze it instead. “And then there’syouwho keeps walking away.”
I shake my head. “I don’t want to, but you didn’t choose this. You didn’t choose me. You feel obligated, and I can’t…I won’t take advantage of that.”
Her face crumples into something so far from satisfaction she almost looks like an entirely different person. She’s still so lovely. She’s still lovely when she rolls away onto her back.
“Why did you do it?”
I frown at the question. “Do what?”
