Page 500 of Coal Hearts

He exhaled in a rush. “Don’t—ughhh.”

That noise.

That groan and growl and grunt.

It made my very spirit quiver as I stroked him, up and down, sharing my fire, making him burn with me.

Another groan fell from him, slashing at his self-control.

The timbre of his growl; the echoing, earthquaking tone. It vibrated through me, rearranging my pieces and sending me higher than the sun.

I squeezed the base of him, teasing us both as I rode his length, coating him in my desire.

His head tipped back. His lips pulled away as he snarled at the ceiling.

“I’m on fire, Hen.” I stroked his erection with tight little twists.

He snarled. Loudly. “Stop saying that—merde.”

I pressed my thumb into his crown.

He jerked and hissed, his voice nothing but black. “And you’re on fire because you probably have a fever.” He grabbed my shoulders, his thumbs finding sore bruises. “Get off me. I’m not doing this tonight. You don’t want me. You’re high and—”

“No, I do want you. I’ve never wanted anyone more.”

His fingers squeezed, hurting me.

I sucked in a breath, hating that pain threaded with pleasure.

That pain only added to my pleasure.

That pain and pleasure somehow became a delightful, dirty thrill.

Memories of him calling me that nasty little M word clotted my mind.

Masochist.

After today, I didn’t think that was right.

I’d hated every moment. I’d panicked the moment Kyle started cutting me. I’d almost passed out from the agony as he shot me with those horrible paintballs.

I didn’t like pain.

In fact, I could safely say I loathed it and had had enough to last me a lifetime.

But...I liked him.

Oh God...

Memories from earlier tonight flooded me.

The way the drug made me swell with fondness and burn with friendship.

I didn’t just like him.

I love—

Whoa!