Page 114 of Hot Ghost Summer

I reach behind me, a last attempt to grab his knee so I can flip him and roll us—I need to be inside him like I need air to breathe—but he commands control of my cock instead. He forms a tight fist around me, and I could cry with the relief his harsh friction brings.

Fucking forward, I ease the pressure he’s building inside me, but it also amps up that aggressive drive that makes me want to throw him down and mount him like a beast. I surge forward again, but the inevitable push backward flares a heat within me hot enough to melt iron, yet cold enough to bite.

The raw thrill of his every touch embeds another hook deep inside me that he uses to tear open a fresh seam.

“Don’t you dare,” he grits through clenched teeth. “Not yet.”

The violent suck of his sudden withdrawal rips a sob from me. How did he know that’s what was building inside me?

Each gulped breath of supernaturally chilled air is either a toxic poison that will bring about my slow and painful demise at his hand, or the very elixir that will revive me when he’s done.

He rolls me over like I’m a piece of meat waiting to be butchered, but when my eyes lock onto his, all I can see is the immense pride of a master craftsman who’s admiring his work.

“Lube’s in the drawer by your hand,” is the only warning I get as he yanks me across the bed by my legs.

I fumble blindly for it. At this point, I don’t even care, but I probably will later.

He holds out his palm and crooks his fingers, and I pump twice into his waiting palm before letting the bottle drop onto the mattress.

“I won’t be gentle, Theo. I can’t—not this time.”

Sweat trickles from my hairline when I nod. “Want t’ feel you. Ruin me.”

He slathers himself, spreads what’s left on me, then takes a bruising hold of each ankle. The blunt head of his cock pushes on my hole with a dull pressure, and I groan.

A moment passes between us then, when the depths of his dark hunger break through the cold armour of his electric gaze. Hollis needs me as much as I need him. Desires me, as I do him. Wants to own me, completely, as I do him. And right on that razor-thin edge, where every twitch of the muscles in his neck and pass of his gaze over me presses like a physical touch, I realise what it is: love.

Hollis breaches me. Slowly. Relentlessly.

The pulse in my throat is the same one he lost.

When he’s fully seated inside me, his expression slackens.

The heat on my skin is fuelled by his frozen flame.

Staring down at where we’re joined, he builds a rolling rhythm.

The soul in my core is bound by his eternal spirit.

I open my mouth, the words poised on the tip of my tongue, and he drops forward to devour them whole.

His pace never falters as he swaps his hold on my legs for clamping his forearms either side of my head.

I steal his lips for my own and feed him my breath. Take it, Hollis. Take it all.

His kiss melts away my skin in a blazing furnace and shatters my ribs to expose my beating heart within. In a silent moment of violence, he locks it inside a cage of his own making.

I return his kiss, and electric pulses surge between us, conducting shivers like a symphony over my body.

He claims my throat with his hand, and I surrender. Like a live-wire resurrection, he shocks me back to life with a blinding, feral intensity that leaves me with no doubt that he’ll spend eternity living inside my flesh.

Hollis moans, the tendons on his neck standing proud as his cock kicks and splutters inside me, making his orgasm the final, searing brand that stitches us together.

“Fuck, Baby,” he pants, forehead resting on mine. “You look so damn gorgeous like this.”

His praise hits like a shot of adrenaline. “Like what? Fucked out…?”

“Like mine.” He traces the letters on my neck with his finger.