I’m fucking this all up. Toying with her. I’d give her the world if I could. Anything she wanted. But that’s not what she’ll get with me. Taking her would be the worst thing I’ve ever done. Either way will hurt like hell—finally losing the only girl I’ve ever longed for or knowing I ruined her. But walking away means she’d have the chance at being safe and happy, growing old … with someone else.
Fucking hell.Bile singes my throat as I croak out, “There shouldn’t be.”
She shrugs, hurling her arms into the air. “Then you don’t get to decide how anything works with me. You want ownership over any part of me, Ty? My decisions. My dreams. My body. Then you have to step up.”
There’s anger and sadness woven into her tone that I don’t want to acknowledge. Anguish I put there. But I can eliminate some of that pain—at least for a few minutes. Which is only mildly selfish.
My hands cruise up her bare thighs again, fingers curling over her hips beneath the shorts to feel the supple curve of her ass. “You’re right. So ignore everything else and use me tonight. Your pussy is dripping all over my boxers, soaking me. You need to come. Can you feel how hard I am beneath you?”
As I rock her over my hard cock, her eyes close on what seems to be an involuntary gasp.
“You do that to me. I might not have answers for you yet. And when I do, they might not be the ones either of us wants. But I can’t deny the way you affect me. Use me, baby girl.”
Her eyelids pop open on a swallow. “I like it when you call me that.”
“Baby girl?”
“Yeah.” She bites her lip and nods as she wiggles ever so slightly in search of what she needs. “And Little Moon. Like I’m yours.”
She is, even if she can’t be. I think she’s always been mine and always will be in some way. No matter what happens between us.
But for the first time in forever, I can’t seem to dwell on the what-if consequences. Not when her beautiful face is staring back at me, resolute nipples begging me to pay attention.
My grip tightens, and I shift her hips again, rougher this time so she can’t resist. “I need to see you come more than I need my next breath. Be a good girl and move for me.”
Scrunching my shirt up to my chest, she scratches her nails over my flesh, trailing from the waistband of my boxers to my upper abs and back in an agonizing lure. “And what about you, sailor?”
“Well, I’m the one fucking this all up.” My chest rises against her fingertips with each deliberate breath, and my voice is so husky; it’s barely recognizable. “So it seems only fair that I suffer through it. See the ecstasy paint your angelic face, watch your tits andporn-starnipples bounce, feel your weeping cunt glide over me and not be able to partake. Right?”
“Right,” she agrees, rolling her hips in a decadent cadence. “Punishment. I think that’s fair. Because whether your intentions are good or not, you’re screwing with my heart, Ty.” Her rhythm never falters as her fingers curl around the hem of her tank, rolling it up over her breasts until she whips it off and those phenomenal tits break free.
“Jesus Christ, Little Moon.” I can’t help myself. My hands pounce on her, the cool piercings melting into my palms as I cradle each globe—small but a perfect, perky handful—kneading her and pinching her sensitive nipples. She wasn’t lying. They’re a fucking work of art. “You’re breathtaking.”
She whimpers as her tempo grows more vigorous, her handsdrifting over mine to squeeze with me. And her ever-changing hazels lock on to me like cat eyes here in the dusty morning light, fierce and feline. “You keep giving me warnings, so let me impart some wisdom of my own. I’m a Noire, so this is nowhere near what punishment looks like. But torturing you … while I …”
She loses whatever threat she was going to bestow as her pace picks up, right along with my thunderous heart and eager, neglected cock.
It’ll be a goddamn miracle if I don’t blow in my boxers.
“That’s my girl. So greedy and gorgeous, taking what you need.”
“Ty,” she purrs as her hips angle forward, and she steals every morsel of friction she can from my excruciating erection. My name on her lips is the most erotic sound I’ve ever heard. But it’s her radiant face that nearly does me in. Her features contorting in unadulterated rapture—mouth parting, lashes fluttering, throat bobbing.
“Eyes on me, baby girl,” I demand while tweaking her nipples. “Show me.”
She obeys as a sultry moan croons from the depths of her, a delicate warble of exultation as melodic as her singing voice. No. More. It’s all more beautiful than anything I’ve ever witnessed.
“Look at you,” I rasp, sliding one hand up to her throat to feel her hammering pulse as her body tenses and quakes. “You’re a fantasy. So pretty when you come.”
Christ, she’s a fucking drug. I feel insane. She’s still panting, having not even floated down from her high, and I need another hit. I’ve never craved anything more. I don’t even mind enduring the most violent, throbbing blue balls of all time.
She flops against my chest, and I roll us so that my weight flattens her to the mattress, like we were last night when I tore myself away. An act of superhuman strength. Although holding her was the most at peace I have ever felt—until the nightmare.
I nip at her quivering lips. “That was the most spectacular moment of my life.”
She cackles, bright and warm and brimming with life. “You’re full of shit and hard as a freaking rock.”
I’d say this potent obsession coursing through me is because I’ve never watched anyone come, never stared into anyone’s eyes like that. But no matter what my past exploits had been, I’m confident the earth’s axis would have still shifted for Rena’s unraveling. It’s certainly a different perspective than her being the Noire brothers’ little sister.
