Page 121 of Drowning in Darkness

James wraps his arm around me, grabbing a fistful of my ass as I stroke him. I keep my eyes on his face, the only thing I can really see in the dark, watching his reaction. I love how he looks. I love seeing the proof of what I’m doing to him on his face.

“Tighter, sweetheart,” he instructs.

I move faster, gripping tighter. I use my other hand to roll over the head of his cock and then back to the shaft, up and down. James's hips flex beneath me, and he grunts, yanking his shirt down over the head.

I marvel at the way James’s hips twitch, how his expression screws up tight as he comes. His release melts through the fabric onto my hand, and I love it.

He grabs my fingers and lifts them to my lips, sweeping them across. “Open your mouth,” he demands through heaving pants.

I comply, and he pushes them inside. I have my first taste of him, but instead of being satisfied, it fuels a deeper and more violent need than ever before. I am so gone for this man.

After a while of listening to him breathe, letting his thoughts settle around what we just did, I slip off him. I take my seat on the passenger side, and James tucks himself away. He lifts his chair back up, still breathing hard.

“Alright.” I smile to myself, not even close to finished with this. “Take me home.”

Clearly thrown, James turns on the car and navigates the lonesome road back up to the house.

When we step inside, I fall to my knees just inside the door. James stops, a fiery darkness lighting up his eyes. I lift up my hands, holding them in the air in front of him. The shock on his face is beyond memorable.

“Take what you want.”

FORTY-ONE

STEPHANIE

The fine line we walk between love and hate brews from the torment of those who get closest to us.

His eyes flare as I sink to my knees and offer him my hands.

“Stand up,” he utters. There’s a plea behind his words, one that tells me he wants me to stay exactly where I am and take exactly what I am offering. But he’s also too frightened to ask for it.

I lift my chin in defiance. “Tell me you don’t want me, and I will go to my bedroom and never bring this up again. I will stop wearing your shirts and stop pushing you to face your demons and desires. I will ignore the way you look at me when you think I’m not looking.”

His hand threads into my hair at my nape, and he fists it to tilt my head farther. “You don’t understand what you’re asking for.”

“I’m trusting the man who doesn’t shy away when he learns what I touch myself to in the middle of the night to teach me how to get those things safely. I’m consumed by you. It’s too late to take that back.”

His nostrils flare, and I prepare myself for his rejection. Deep down, I know it’s because he thinks he’s no good and doesn’t deserve anything that gives him peace or pleasure. But I’m nothing if not persistent. I already trust him; he just has to trust me.

The silence stretches between us, and I can see the war playing behind his eyes. Come on, James, take the leap. I’ll catch you.

His jaw tics, and I begin to lower my hands. His free hand snatches my wrists and holds them in the air. My heart beats faster, and my skin flushes. I lick my lips. His mouth parts, and he releases my hair and unbuckles his belt, sliding it free from the loops and letting it slap against the wooden floor while I continue to stare at him in invitation.

I need to feel. I’m alive but not living. “Do it,” I whisper. “Please.”

His eyes flutter closed, and he sucks in a long breath. “Put your hands together,” he orders. I twist them, doing as he asks. Heat unfurls in my stomach, low, deep, needy. He guides the leather around them, pulling the end through the buckle to secure them and stretches my arms high. I start to stand, but he shakes his head. “Stay on your knees, sweetheart.”

I swallow and do as he instructs. He keeps my arms high with one hand holding the belt, while the other traces my bottom lip, tugging it free from my teeth. “Rest your knees on top of my boots.”

It seems like an odd request, and the image of him dancing with me standing on his shoes plays in my mind.

“If it gets too much, I want you to tap your knees on my feet.”

Oh... “Okay.”

He has my hands immobilized, and I’m asking him to put his cock in my throat. It makes sense that we need a different form of communication. “Tell me you want this,” he growls.

“I want this. I want you. Every facet, every shadow, every demon that stalks your dreams. I want it all.”