“Cassandra,” he breathed against my skin, and the way he said my name like a prayer, like a curse, like he was drowning and I was his last breath, made something crack open deep inside my chest.
He flipped us, rolling me onto my back, his heavy, muscled body pinning me to the mattress. He loomed over me, his eyes dark with a hunger that mirrored my own.
“My turn,” he growled.
His mouth was on mine again, hard and demanding, while his hands went to the hem of my shirt. He pulled it up, his knuckles grazing the skin of my stomach, and I arched into his touch. I helped him get it over my head, and we threw it aside.
I pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, my hands fisting in his hair. “Don’t stop. Please don’t fucking stop.”
“Never,” he said, his voice a guttural promise. His mouth crashed down on mine again, and at the same time, his hands were at the button of my jeans.
We were a frantic tangle of hands, pushing denim and cotton out of the way. My jeans were unfastened, his were bunched at his hips. I felt him, hot and hard, pressing against me through the thin lace of my panties. He groaned, a low, animal sound, and ground against me.
“You’re soaked,” he murmured, his fingers brushing the wet fabric.
“Your fault,” I accused, my hips lifting instinctively. “Drew,please.”
He hooked his fingers into the elastic waistband, pulling my panties aside. The cool air hit my wet skin for a split second before his fingers replaced it. He slipped one, then two, inside me, and I cried out, my back bowing off the bed. He knew exactly where to touch, how to move, his thumb finding my clit with devastating pressure.
“You’re so ready,” he stated, his voice thick with arousal as I started to unravel.
“Don’t,” I begged, grabbing his wrist. “I want you. Inside me. Now.”
He positioned himself between my thighs, the blunt head of his cock pressing against my slick folds. He pushed in slowly, stretching me, filling me. It was a perfect, agonizing friction. He stopped, just an inch inside, forcing me to meet his gaze.
“You’re sure?” he asked, but it wasn’t really a question. It was a final warning.
I answered by grabbing his ass with both hands, my nails digging in, and pulling. I sank him to the hilt in one, desperate motion.
A scream tore from my throat. He was thick, and deep, andreal. He drove into me, and there was no finesse, just raw, punishing need. He set a rhythm that was fast and deep, and I met him thrust for thrust, my legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper still.
His name was a chant on my lips, “Drew, Drew,fuck,” and for the first time in years, as he filled me again and again, I felt something other than fear.
That single, desperate, “fuck,” was his undoing.
He grunted, a low, animal sound, and his pace quickened. He pulled almost all the way out, the agonizing friction making me whimper, only to slam back in, hitting a spot deep inside that sent lightning straight to my core.
“You feel that?” he panted, his voice a low rumble against my ear, his stubble scraping my skin. “You feel how much I…fuck, Cass.”
“Deeper,” I demanded, my voice wrecked. “Drew,please.”
My nails raked his back, leaving marks I knew I’d see later, and he hissed. His answer was a guttural groan as he changed the angle, his hips tilting. He hit that spot again.
My vision whited out. My back arched off the bed, a scream tearing from my throat. “Right…there!”
That was it. The pleasure was so intense it bordered on pain, a bright, searing light behind my eyes. My muscles coiled tight, my entire body tensing around him.
“Drew!” I screamed his name, and it wasn’t a plea anymore. It was a release.
My orgasm hit me like a physical blow. It wasn’t a gentle wave; it was a goddamn tsunami, ripping through me, making me shake apart. My inner walls clenched around him, milking him, trying to take everything he had.
He felt it. His eyes, dark and blown wide, locked on mine. He roared my name, a raw, broken sound, and his control shattered. He pumped into me, hard and fast, a final, desperate rhythm, burying himself as deep as he could go. I felt the hot, heavy pulse of his release inside me, the undeniable proof of his surrender, and it was the most real thing I’d felt all night.
His full weight collapsed on top of me, and I welcomed it, my arms wrapping around his sweat-slick back. We were both shaking, our breaths coming in harsh, ragged gasps. The only sounds in the room were our panting and the frantic, slowing beat of our hearts.
He buried his face in my neck, his breathing hot against my skin. I held on tight, my eyes squeezed shut, trying to anchor myself to this moment. To the solid, undeniable weight of him.
The fear was still out there. The lies, the war, all of it. It hadn’t disappeared. But for this one, stolen moment, it couldn’t touch me. He had been a shield.
