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Forty-Nine
Savannah
I was breathinghard by the time I was done, which was when he pushed a button. That button worked just as he grabbed me by the waist and hauled me onto his lap.
At first, I had no idea what he was going to do, then his mouth was on mine, tearing into me, our tongues not just thrusting together, but tangling, encouraging me to fight back. His hands were everywhere, where mine just went to his hair, and I was happy with that because we were both eating each other alive.
Tearing, ripping, shredding into one another, fighting fire with fire, blasting each other with our annoyances and grievances.
His hands cupped my ass, molding the cheeks, before he pulled back and snapped, "Why do you always have to wear fucking pants?"
I smirked at him, then hauled my ass over to the passenger’s seat. It was awkward, and I was very grateful for the stretch of private road, but I shucked out of my pants, well aware that we could have just driven to the estate, but neither of us wanted that.
Naked from the hips down, apart from that goddamn bandage he still insisted I wore on my upper thigh, which irritated more than it helped, I scuttled over to him, and rested my ass on his lap.
When his mouth reached for mine again, his fingers delved between my legs at the same time as I reached for his fly and unfastened the zipper.
With his cock in my hands, my pussy already molten hot, I pressed him against my slit and welcomed him home.
I tore my mouth from his as I gasped the second he started filling me, and that was when he pressed a kiss to my throat, his tongue sliding along the sinewy arches before he reached my ear and whispered, "Twenty-four."
I blinked at him, dazed, groaning as gravity pushed me onto him.
Then, I remembered what he was talking about, and I retorted, "No fair."
"Nobody ever said that I’d be fair," he countered, and his hands started to encourage me to ride him.
I did.
But not at the pace he insisted upon. I took it faster, slamming onto him because I knew pleasure was within my grasp. One hand went to the back of his neck, and I pressed our mouths together before I slipped my fingers down and started rubbing my clit.
A couple minutes later, I screamed out my pleasure, and my hoarse cries entwined with his roar of satisfaction.
It was hard, it was fast, and it was mean.
Much like this world I was diving into.
There were laws I’d never understand, some I’d come to learn, but he was right. It wasn’t the orgasm that let me see the woods for the trees, either.
We’d only survive if we were a team. If we were united against the world. And we couldn’t do that if I undermined him and went behind his back.
With that in mind, I murmured, "I’m not like your ma."
Panting, his nose crinkled. "Do we have to talk about her right now?"
I grinned at his squeamishness. "I’m not the little wife, the woman who’ll be happy to make Christmas dinner for the family when a perfectly good caterer can be hired to do the job.
“I’m not going to sit back and let this world tear me to shreds. I’m a fighter, Aidan. You know that. That’s why you’re here, sitting in the wet spot. You wouldn’t be doing that if you didn’t want me to be me.” I bowed my head, pressed a kiss to his lips, a softer one, then murmured, "I love you. Thank you for telling me the truth."
He grunted, his head rocking back against the rest, as he stared up at me. "I love you too."
And if that wasn’t the verbal equivalent of a signature on a new contract, I didn’t know what was.
