“You’re such a good girl,” I whisper close to her ear as she arches her back, purple hair falling down her back in waves. “Such a good fucking girl.”
She rests her hands on my shoulder. “Yeah?” She smiles at me, her eyes sparkling in the dim light. “You like when I’m good?”
I thrust up into her. “Yeah, really fucking good.”
She speeds up the tempo. “What if I’m naughty instead?”
A grin splits my face. “You want to be naughty for me?”
She shoots me a look that I’ll remember for the rest of my life. One that if I wasn’t in love with her already, I’d definitely be now. “Very naughty.” She climbs off my lap, moving over to the rug in the middle of the living room. She gets down on all fours, and gazes at me from over her shoulder. “Do me from behind.”
Fuck me.
I run a hand through my hair, and grip my hard cock in my hand, stroking it as I move in behind her. She doesn’t have to ask me twice. I position myself, and slam into her in one punishing strike. “So naughty.” I slap her ass as my other hand glides up her back, to the base of her scalp, and up into her hair.
I pull her hair, bringing her closer to me. “I love you this way,” I tell her. Proud that I’m the only man on the planet who gets this side of her.
The naughty side.
Mine.
I keep pushing into her, slamming my cock deeper and deeper. She moans, cries, and screams out my name as she comes so violently I swear she’s shaking.
I chase her orgasm with my own, holding onto her tightly as our bodies calm.
When we finally slow, I pull her back onto the couch with me. We lie there together, breathing heavy, our bodies a complete mess.
But she’smymess.
I pull a blanket over us.
She’s out within minutes.
The kind of sleep that only comes when your brain believes—just briefly—that the monster at the door has been locked out.
I watch her breathe.
Watch her face soften.
Watch the faint crease between her brows ease.
And something in me goes hard and ruthless. Because this is not sustainable.
Not with Luka’s money on our heads.
Not with Serafina’s shadow bleeding into Maddox territory.
Not with the world deciding our love story is target practice.
I shift carefully, easing out from under her without waking her.
She murmurs my name in her sleep, frowning slightly.
I freeze. Then I brush a kiss to her temple. “Soon,” I whisper.
I hate myself for it.
I stand and move quietly to the duffel. I dress as quickly as humanly possible. My hands are steady even though my chest isn’t.
