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Metaphors about butterflies and sparks can’t even begin to describe what I’m feeling. He’s tearing me apart at the seams, ripping away my self-control with hard, masterful strokes, and angling his hips just right to make my body clench around him. I’ve never come so hard in my life, and still, he’s fucking me.
“I’m dead. You killed me,” I whisper.
“Just a little more,” he groans, and as he says it, he plunges deep and holds himself there, pulsing thickly against my core. My inner muscles ripple in contractions, up and down his length. Blade groans deep and long, and his stormy eyes watch me closely as he releases like a flood.
Finally, his gaze refocuses and he gently releases me, settling his battle marked body to the side, but still with a leg over mine. “Fuck,” he whispers.
“Yeah, no kidding,” I can only reply.
22
BLADE
Beneath me,Faith’s face and chest are flushed red as she catches her breath. She’s so fucking gorgeous—naked and in my bed. If I could, I’d fuck her all over for the first time, just to feel this again. Her soft skin in my hands, my cock deep in her wet cunt, her full lips panting for air…
I’m so fucked.
I’ve never even been tempted to mess around with anyone who can’t handle the sort of shit we see every day. It’s a recipe for heartache, and even though I know my reputation, I’m not a machine. I tried not to notice, and then I tried not to care.
But when Faith rolls over and into my side, I wrap my arm around her, pulling her close as she burrows into my chest like I’m her fucking teddy bear. And I don’t fucking hate it.
“You okay?” I slide my fingers up and down her spine, which makes her shiver and press in closer.
“Oh, now you care?” She laughs softly, her amazing, soft body shaking in my arms.
“What’s that supposed to fucking mean?”
Faith’s whole body stiffens. “I was just kidding…”
Shit. “I’m an asshole.”
She holds up her fingers, spacing them apart a tiny bit. “Maybe a little.”
I swat her ass for it.
“Ow!”
“Respect, little girl.”
“Can I… Can I ask you a question?”
“All you do is ask questions.” Tired but not really mad, I pull her closer, pressing her soft body into mine so I can feel every curve she’s got.
With a fingertip, she traces the thick scar across my chest, the remnant of a machete of all things. For once I met someone with a bigger fucking knife. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“All of it.”
We lie there quietly, her waiting for my answer and me not wanting to give it, or even where to start. I listen to her breathing. Slow and steady, but I don’t think she’s asleep, even though it’s fucking late.
“What about you? I know something happened before you and your mom ran. That’s why you’re so jumpy, right?”
“No fair turning the tables.” She snaps her finger against my chest hard enough to sting.
“Call it my price of admission.”
“If I talk, you have to promise to hold me.” She wraps her leg around my thigh like she’s afraid I’m going to push her away.
