He stands, his body towering over me, his cock impossibly hard and red. I look over my shoulder at him, my mind already racing with the anticipation of what’s to come.
My mind is a tornado of need and possession. I can feel the hunger pounding throughout my body. I can feel her pleasure, her satisfaction, her hunger for more, all amplifying my own. I can feel her as the part of me she always has been.
I press forward, her body a temptation I can’t resist. Her breathing hitches, body trembling, as I press against the slick heat at her center.
“I can feel how much you want me. How much you need me.”
Her body arches, pressing back against me, searching for friction. I can feel the ache, the longing to be filled, to be stretched.
“I do,” she whispers breathlessly. “I need you inside me.”
My control snaps, my cock hardening even more, my need bordering on insanity. My hands grip her hips, fingers digging into her flesh, hard enough to bruise. With a swift thrust, I fill her completely, eliciting a gasp from both of us. Her body stretches to accommodate my size. I can feel her mind reeling from the intensity of the sensations. I know mine is.
“You feel so good. So perfect,” I pant, setting a brutal pace. Her body moves in sync, rocking back to meet my thrusts. I can feel her pleasure, the fullness she experiences.
“Harder,” she pants. “More.”
I increase my pace, my body slamming into hers, sweat slicking our skin. “Come with me. Let me feel you all over my cock.” Thrust. “Let this whole fucking building hear you scream myfuckingname.”
“I’m yours,” she moans. I can feel her tighten.
“You’re mine. All fucking mine. And I’m going to make you come so hard you never forget it.”
She spirals over the edge, her voice echoing around the tiny apartment as she screams my name, taking me with her. My body tightens, her pleasure heightening my own, the way she clenches around me, her mind blank with pleasure. My release rushes into her, pulsing as she milks everything I have to give.
We collapse in a heap of sweaty limbs and gaspingbreaths. I carefully pull back on the link, leaving her mind as her own, while our bodies cool.
We rearrange enough to be lying together in a more comfortable position, content in the silence. I pull the rumpled sheet up around us and she lays her head on my chest.
I bask in the absolute satisfaction of the moment and, although I know there’s much to talk about, we both drift into sleep.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Iget to Wanderlust early, leaving Ash in her nest of blankets. After last night, I need to talk to someone and that someone, for better or worse, is Betsy. Gods help me.
She doesn’t even look up from where she’s scribbling in one of her endless tomes. I lean against the doorway, arms crossed, wondering if it’s just a regular ledger or if it’s aspecial one.
“If you keep glowering like that, boy, the books may wilt.”
“I’m not glowering.”
“Mm. You do always look like you’re halfway to punching someone.” Pause. “At least you have good bones.” She flicks a glance at me. “I mean that literally. I could use your femur in at least three wards.”
I consider that. “Maybe I am.” Not touching that femur comment. “Have you written any more stories for Brett?”
“Yes, actually. I wrote another…chapter, we’ll say, after the attack in the alley.”
I had assumed as much, as other than the rumors, no one has actually seen Brett around in some time.
“Do I want to know?”
She spares me a single glance. “Probably not.”
I push off the frame, pacing across the shop floor. The wood creaks under my boots.
Betsy doesn’t even glance up this time. “What is it?”
Here, I think. Here is someone I can slip the leash with.
