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Of course, it would only be temporary, she was leaving in a few hours and didn’t know when, or if, she’d ever return.
She’d let herself have this for now. Let him have it, too.
“Come for me,” filled her ears. “Now.”
For fuck’s sake, that voice, that demand. The tone that told her she had no option other than to obey.
With a strength she didn’t know she had, her hips shot up and slammed into him, driving him deeper than he’d ever been, even when she had been on top.
She jerked one of her hands free from its prison and sliced her nails across his chest, deep enough to draw blood.
He twitched in reaction, including his cock still driving relentlessly deep inside her. His fist tightened even more around her throat, now constricting her breathing enough for her to start becoming light-headed.
But she could still speak.
She could still say no.
Tell him to stop.
She didn’t want to.
His words had started the avalanche, his actions made it speed out of control. Sliding, sliding, sliding, picking up speed and gaining momentum, until that avalanche hit bottom and exploded around them both.
He drove into her one more time, everything on him tightening, including where he held her, the pressure increasing on her neck, the wrist he still had pinned.
She should panic, she would panic if it wasn’t him.
And that was so fucked up.
Was she losing her damn mind?
Why would she like this?
She shouldn’t.
She shouldn’t.
But, holy fuck, she did.
Chapter Twelve
His eyes were closed and a deep-seated satisfaction he’d never experienced before saturated his bones. It soaked all the way to his very center, including his brain matter.
He’d done some crazy shit before and sex with Syn hadn’t been crazy at all. But it had stirred something inside him that had apparently been lurking. Waiting to show itself when the right woman came along.
Now that was the crazy part.
Normally, pussy didn’t make him lose his mind. With Syn, it wasn’t about the sex at all and it wasn’t the reason making him question his actions or reactions.
They just fucked for the third time and he doubted there would be a fourth before she extracted herself from his bed and his life, and moved on to a warmer location.
Did he want a fourth time? Fuck yes.
Could he muster up enough strength? In the time they had left, probably not. He was normally pretty good about bouncing back, but he still had his limits and he wasn’t going to start something he couldn’t finish. That would be a major blow to his ego.
She must have thought he’d fallen asleep because it was the first time in the last few hours where she’d touched him when they weren’t having sex.
Her fingers brushed over his messy hair and a portion of his beard and he knew exactly why. She touched him where the few strands of gray could be found. Once again, reminding them both, she was young, he was not.
Dodge wasn’t old like Dutch but he was older than her.
Twenty-fucking-three.
Practically a baby.
When he was twenty-three, he thought he knew how the world worked. Believed he was so damn knowledgeable. That false thinking made him nothing but arrogant.
That cockiness also caused him to lose his freedom.
Both then and several times afterward.
He now knew he didn’t know jack at that age. Because if he had known what he knew now, he might have made different—and hopefully better—decisions along the way.
But then, most people, if they could go back, would probably do the same.
With experience came knowledge. Good, bad and even useless.
Life could kick you in the fucking balls when you least expected it and you either learned from it and never repeated that mistake again, or you repeated it over and over until you finally got a fucking clue. That message usually delivered by a two-by-four cracked across the forehead.
Or you ended up six feet under because you were too stupid or stubborn to learn.
Dodge had known some of those types of people, too. His so-called “stepfather” and uncle were two perfect examples of skin bags filled with useless wind who were too stupid to live.
The world’s collective IQ did not lessen when those two disappeared. It might have even rose a bit.
He had a feeling that Syn’s life experience had been fast-tracked.
Maybe not when it came to sex, but everywhere else. His gut told him she’d walked barefooted along a path full of broken glass and dangerous drop-offs.
However, she was also a survivor.
When the very tip of her finger lightly traced along the seam of his lips, he opened them and bit it lightly.
Her hand jerked away in surprise and she face-planted into his side as her body shook.
With laughter?
He opened his eyes and raised his head to witness it.
“Syn,” he murmured, wanting to see what she was hiding.
When she lifted her face, any possible laughter was already wiped away. That was if it had even existed in the first place and he hadn’t imagined it.
