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I hook my hands under her thighs and hoist her up. She’s light as a feather, her legs immediately locking around my waist, her heels digging into my glutes. I back her further onto the counter, clearing away the peanut butter and the spoon with one sweep of my arm. The jar clatters to the floor, but neither of us cares. I’m too busy trying to memorize the way she feels wrapped around me, the way her tits are pressed against my chest, her nipples hard through the thin silk.

I break the kiss just long enough to look at her, really look at her. Her face is flushed, her lips swollen and damp, her eyes glazed with a heat that matches my own. She looks wrecked, and she looks like she belongs to me. I’ve spent my whole life looking for a place to fit, for a family that wasn't broken, for a home that didn't feel like a cage. And looking at her now, I realize I’ve been looking for a person, not a place.

"My bedroom," I grunt, the words barely making it past the roar in my ears. "Now."

"Yes," she says, her hands fisted in my hair. "Now, Diesel. Don't stop. Please don't stop."

I don't put her down. I carry her through the house, my stride long and purposeful, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her chest. We don't make it to the bed before the clothes start disappearing. I set her down just inside the door, my hands trembling as I grab the hem of that pink camisole and pull it over her head. She’s perfect. Even better than the fantasies I’ve spent years trying to kill. Her breasts are full and heavy, her nipples dark and inviting, her waist narrow and tapering into the flare of her hips.

She reaches for my jeans, her fingers fumbling. I help her, kicking them, standing before her completely exposed. I see her eyes widen, her gaze traveling down the length of me, and for the first time in my life, I’m grateful for the size and the strength this body has. I want to fill her up. I want to leave a mark on her soul that no one else can ever erase.

I pick her up again, tossing her onto the center of my bed. The silk sheets are cool, but the air between us is thick with a heat that’s almost visible. I crawl over her, my knees flanking her hips, my hands pinning her wrists above her head. I want to go slow. I want to savor every second of this. But the way she’s looking at me with a mix of hunger and absolute surrender makes my self-control vanish into the ether.

I lower myself, my mouth finding her tit, my tongue swirling around one tight peak before I take the whole thing into my mouth. She screams, her back arching off the bed, her fingers curling into the sheets. I suckle her hard, my hand moving down, finding the damp, scorching heat between her legs. She’s soaking wet, her pussy slick and inviting, her body literally crying out for me.

“You’re so wet for me, Serenity,” I murmur.

When I slip two fingers inside her, it’s almost too tight to move, and she throws her head back, pressing into the pillows and gasping loud enough to wake the fucking dead.

“Look at me,” I tell her. “I want you to see who’s doing this to you.”

It takes a second, but then those eyes of hers finally open. They’re shiny and glassy from how good it feels, which just about wrecks me.

“It’s you. It’s always been you, Diesel. It was always you.” She says it like she means it, and I know she does. I lose my goddamn mind.

I crash my mouth against hers, swallowing every whimper, every plea, every sweet little gasp she gives me. I’m about to make her mine. For life.

She arches her hips, grinding against my palm as my fingers pump in and out of her tight heat. Jesus Christ, she’s perfect. I want to spend all night just tasting her, feeling her clench around me, listening to her scream so loud the desert animals think I’m torturing someone in here.

“More,” she chokes out, blue eyes wild, hair a tangled mess against my sheets. “Diesel, please. I need you—I need all of you.”

Hell fucking yes.

I don’t answer, just growl low in my throat as I trail kisses down her neck. I bite her shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark, and she shivers for me. Her tits are incredible, and I take my sweet time worshipping them, sucking one nipple after the other, licking and biting, until she’s writhing under me.

“You want it, sweetness?” I murmur against her skin.

“God, yes.” Her nails dig into my arms. “Please. I can’t stand it. Just… touch me.”

My cock throbs so hard it hurts. She begs so pretty, I almost shoot right then and there.

I drag my mouth down her stomach, kissing every inch, worshipping her. I want her wet and desperate, begging for me to finish what I started.

She’s trembling already, but I’m nowhere near done.

I spread her thighs wide and stare down at her perfect, pink pussy. Fuck me, she’s dripping wet. There’s nothing on earth I want more than to bury my tongue in her and devour her until she never remembers another man’s name for the rest of her life.

Serenity’s blue eyes go huge when I lower myself between her legs. She grabs the sheets, shaking like she thinks I might break her. Hell, my sweet girl wants to be ruined. Good. That’s what I plan to do.

I run my tongue up the crease of her thigh, stopping just shy of her clit. Her hips jerk up, desperate for friction. I fucking love the way she’s not afraid to show me she needs it, needs me. She’s panting, making these little sounds that make my cock twitch painfully.

“Diesel,” she begs, voice so broken it almost kills me. “Please. Oh, God, please.”

“Hold on, sweetness.” I grin, slow and wicked, and drag my tongue through her slick folds. She tastes better than anything I’ve ever had. I lap at her wetness, taking my time, memorizing every shiver and gasp. I want this burned into my brain forever.

She nearly comes off the bed when I finally suck her clit into my mouth. Her whole body bows up, a high, keening cry ripping out of her. Fuck, she’s loud, but I want her louder.

I fuck her with my fingers as I lap at her pussy like a man possessed. Every time I curl my fingers inside her, she lets out these wild little moans, writhing all over my goddamn bed. My ears are ringing with the sound of her voice. Music doesn’t even compare.