He leans in and kisses me. It’s not a kiss of frantic passion or desperate need. It’s slow, deep, and impossibly gentle. It’s a kiss that saysI’m here. It’s a kiss that saysI miss you. It’s a kiss that promisesI will get you out of here. My whole body sighs into it, the days of fear and loneliness dissolving under the warmth of his lips.
He breaks the kiss, resting his cheek against my temple. “I miss you so fucking much,” he murmurs into my hair. “Every second.”
“I miss you too,” I whisper, my eyes closed, memorizing the feel of his body against mine, the sound of his voice. I wrap my arms around him, holding on as tight as I can, trying to absorb his strength, his warmth, his love. In this cold, suffocating room, with danger lurking outside the door, Landon is my entire world. And for these few precious, stolen moments, that’s all that matters.
My body hums with an electric current.
“Fuck, El,” he growls, his voice a low rumble against my ear. His lips find the sensitive skin just below it, and I shudder, my hands flying up to tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck. It’s longer than I remember. “I’ve been thinking about this. About you. About this perfect little body.”
His words are a brand, hot and possessive. One of his hands slides from my waist down to cup my ass, squeezing hard enough to make me gasp. He uses the grip to grind me against him, letting me feel how hard he already is, the thick ridge of his cock pressing into my belly through our jeans.
“Did you miss this cock, baby?” he murmurs, his teeth grazing my earlobe. “Did you lie in your bed at night and touch your pretty pussy, wishing it was me stretching you open?”
A whimper escapes my throat. I can only nod, my fingers clenching in his hair as he walks me backward, his body a solid, unmovable force in front of mine. My back hits the wall with a soft thud, and he cages me in, one hand braced beside my head.
“Answer me, kitten,” he demands, his eyes, dark and intense, locking onto mine. “Tell me you missed my cock.”
“Yes,” I breathe, the word barely audible. “God, Landon, yes.”
A wicked, triumphant grin spreads across his face. “Good girl.” He leans in, but instead of kissing me, he runs his nose along my jawline, down the column of my throat. His other hand comes up to palm my breast, his thumb finding my nipple and rubbing it through the thin fabric of my shirt. It pebbles instantly, a jolt of pleasure shooting straight to my core.
“These tits,” he groans, ducking his head to mouth at my breast, his tongue hot and wet even through the cotton. “I’ve been dreaming about sucking on these nipples until you’re screaming.” He hooks his fingers into the neckline of my shirt and yanks it down, exposing the lace of my bra. He doesn’t bother with the clasp. He just pulls the cup down, freeing my breast to the cool air of the room before his mouth is on me.
He latches on, sucking hard, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak. It’s not gentle; it’s greedy and claiming. He pulls back enough to look at my wet, reddened nipple before blowing a cool stream of air on it. The sensation makes my back arch off the wall.
“Look at that,” he says, his voice thick with satisfaction. “So fucking responsive.” He gives the other breast the same attention, his hand busy kneading the flesh, his fingers pinching and pulling. “I can’t wait to see all of you. Can’t wait to spread you open and see that tight little cunt I’ve been missing.”
His dirty words are gasoline on a fire. My panties are soaked, my clit throbbing with a need so acute it’s almost painful. I tug at his shirt, needing to feel his skin, but he catches my wrists, pinning them above my head against the wall with one of his large hands.
“Not yet,” he commands. “This is my turn. I’ve got weeks of catching up to do.Months.” He holds me there, trapped, while his free hand trails down my body. He traces the waistband of my jeans, his knuckles brushing against my stomach, making the muscles jump. Then he pops the button and slowly, so fucking slowly, drags the zipper down.
The sound is obscene in the quiet room. He slips his hand inside, his fingers sliding through my curls until he finds my slick folds.
I wonder if my other boyfriends are aware of what I’m getting up to, if they know Landon is here. Probably. Nothing gets past them.
But I love them even more, knowing they’re giving us the space we so desperately need.
“Jesus Christ,” Landon breathes, his eyes closing for a second as his fingers explore. “You’re so fucking wet for me. This pussy’s been waiting, hasn’t it? Dripping and ready.” He finds my clit and circles it once, twice, a light, teasing touch that has my knees buckling. “You want my fingers in this tight little hole? You want me to fuck you with my hand right here against the wall?”
“Please,” I beg, my voice ragged. “Landon, please.”
He chuckles, a dark, delicious sound. “I love it when you beg.” He grants my wish, sinking two fingers deep inside me in one smooth thrust. I cry out, my hips rocking against his hand as he sets a relentless pace. His palm grinds against my clit with every stroke, the dual stimulation pushing me higher and higher.
“That’s it, take it,” he grunts, his forehead resting against mine. “Take my fingers. You’re so fucking tight, squeezing me. God, you’re going to feel amazing on my cock.” He curls his fingers, finding that spot inside me that makes my vision white out. “Right there? Yeah, that’s the spot. I’m going to pound this spot until you can’t remember your own name.”
His words, his hand, the sheer possession in his eyes—it’s too much. The coil in my belly snaps, and I come with a sharp, strangled cry, my body convulsing around his fingers. He doesn’t stop, working me through it, drawing out every last wave of pleasure until I’m a boneless, panting mess against the wall.
He finally pulls his fingers out, bringing them to his lips and sucking them clean, his eyes never leaving mine. “Sweet as I remember,” he says, his voice husky. “But I’m not done with you yet, kitten.” He releases my wrists, only to scoop me up, my legs wrapping around his waist instinctively. “Now, I’m going to put you on the bed and fuck you until the only thing you can feel is me.”
He carries me the short distance to the bed, my legs locked around his waist, his hands gripping my ass like he owns it. He drops me onto the mattress, hard, but I don’t care. All I care about is the feral, desperate look in his eyes as he yanks my jeans and soaked panties down my legs in one rough tug, the material clinging stubbornly to my wet skin.
He kicks my feet apart, standing between my thighs, and just looks at me. His chest is heaving, his gaze fixed on the place between my legs, now exposed and glistening for him.
“Fucking perfect,” he breathes, his voice a raw scrape of need. He reaches out, his thumb tracing my slit, spreading my wetness. “This is mine. This cunt is all mine.” He removes his shirt first, and my eyes lock on the scar marring his skin.
I almost lost him.
That knowledge sits like a boulder in my chest, and tears spring to my eyes, unbidden.
