“Yes,” I breathed, spreading my legs wider for him. “Fuck me, Cannon. Make me yours.”
He positioned himself at my entrance, the thick head of his dick stretching me as he pushed forward. I gasped at the intrusion, my body still sensitive from my orgasm.
“So fucking tight,” he groaned, sinking deeper. “Like your pussy was made for me.”
When he was fully seated inside me, he paused, his forehead resting against mine. For a moment, we just breathed together, connected in the most intimate way. Then he began to move, slow, deep thrusts that had me moaning with each stroke.
“You feel so good,” I whispered, my hands roaming his broad back, feeling the muscles flex beneath my fingers. “So fucking good.”
His pace increased, his hips driving forward with more force. I wrapped my legs around his waist, changing the angle so he hit that spot deep inside me with every thrust. The room filled with the sounds of our pleasure, skin slapping against skin, my moans, his deep grunts.
“This pussy is mine,” he growled, his hand wrapping around my throat, squeezing just enough to make my pulse race. “Say it.”
“It’s yours,” I gasped, the pressure on my throat intensifying the pleasure coursing through me. “I’m yours, Cannon.”
Something flashed in his eyes at my words, something possessive and primal. He released my throat, grabbing my hips instead, lifting them off the bed to drive even deeper.
“Touch yourself,” he commanded. “I want to feel you come on my dick.”
I slid my hand between us, finding my clit, rubbing in tight circles that matched his rhythm. The combined sensation was overwhelming, and I felt another orgasm building rapidly.
“That’s it,” he encouraged, his voice strained as he fought his own release. “Come for me again, Queen. Show me who this pussy belongs to.”
His words pushed me over the edge. I came with a scream, my body convulsing around him, my walls clenching his dick in pulsing waves. He followed seconds later, his rhythm faltering as he buried himself deep inside me, his release hot and pulsing.
“Fuck, Queen,” he groaned, his body shuddering above me. “Goddamn.”
We collapsed together, a tangle of limbs and sweat-slicked skin. He rolled to the side, pulling me against his chest, his heartbeat thundering under my ear. I felt boneless, completely undone, more satisfied than I could remember being in years.
“That was…” I began, but words failed me.
“Yeah,” he agreed, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “It was.”
We lay in comfortable silence, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my back. The weight of the day, the confessions, the emotional nakedness, the raw physical connection, settled overme like a blanket. My eyelids grew heavy, the steady rhythm of Cannon’s breathing lulling me toward sleep.
“Rest,” he murmured, his voice rumbling through his chest against my ear. “I got you.”
I surrendered to exhaustion, feeling safer than I had in years, wrapped in the arms of the most dangerous man I’d ever met.
I don’t remember drifting off, but I woke with a start, my heart hammering against my ribs. The room was pitch black except for the red glow of my alarm clock, 3:17 AM. Something felt wrong. The warmth that had been wrapped around me was gone, the space beside me empty and cold.
“Cannon?” I whispered into the darkness, my hand reaching across the sheets, finding nothing but emptiness.
I sat up, pulling the sheet around my naked body as my eyes adjusted to the darkness. He had left me alone, and this damn near broke my heart. I reached for my phone to find that he did leave me a text message saying that he had some things to handle. And that he would speak to me later.
I stared at the text until the screen dimmed, his words burned into my eyes.Had to handle something.That could mean anything in Cannon’s world, blood, bullets, or both.
The bed felt bigger without him, colder, emptier. I pulled the sheet tighter, pretending it was his arms, but it wasn’t the same. Sleep wouldn’t come back easily. Not with my mind racing and my chest aching like I’d let myself want something I was never supposed to touch.
For the first time in years, the silence in my apartment didn’t feel like peace. It felt like loss.
Chapter 31
Cannon
I stared at the water-stained ceiling of my apartment, counting the brown splotches like I was counting sheep. Five hours of sleep wasn’t shit, but it was more than I usually got. My body felt good, and that’s what had me fucked up.
Queen’s scent still clung to my skin even after the cold shower I took when I got back at 3 AM. I could still taste her on my tongue, feel the way her body trembled under mine. That connection we had was something else. Something I wasn’t ready for.
