And I want that. God, I want all of it. Every thrust is devastating.
He’s everywhere—inside me, around me, over me. His body drives into mine with a force that makes the bed creak and the headboard slam into the wall, but I don’t care. I can’t think. I can’tbreathe. I can only feel.
His cock fills me so perfectly, stretching me wide, hitting deep, hard,over and overuntil the pressure inside me builds too fast, too hot, toomuch.
I’m right there—on the edge of something vast and blinding, and when his thumb finds my clit, rubbing it in tight, slick circles, I break.
I shatter.
My orgasm slams through me like a wave crashing into a cliff, sharp and endless. My whole body seizes. My legs lock around his hips, my back bows off the bed, and Iscreamhis name—loud and guttural and full of something so raw it nearly tears me apart.
I cry.
Tears spill from my eyes without warning, not from pain, not from fear—but from the intensity. From the release. From the overwhelming, unbearable fact that I feeleverythingfor him. Every inch of me is wide open and he’s inside it all.
Damian slows. He doesn’t stop. He moves softer now, deeper, his strokes long and fluid, his hands cradling my face as he leans down and kisses my lips, my tears, my throat.
I sob again, and this time it’s into his mouth.
He unties my wrists slowly, gently, and the moment my arms are free, I wrap them around him and hold on tight. He stays inside me, our bodies still locked together, his cock thick and pulsing as he rocks into me with the kind of tenderness that guts me.
His lips press to my temple.
“Fuck, I love you,” he whispers. “You hear me? I love you.”
I nod, face buried in his shoulder, heart pounding against his chest.
And then I feel it—his hips stutter. His breath catches.
He groans my name like a curse and a prayer all at once and pushes deep—so deep I swear I feel it in my soul—and he comes inside me, long and hard andutterly gone.His body shakes above mine, arms tight around me like he never plans to let go again.
BANG. BANG. BANG. A violent pounding slams into the door.
“Open up!” Bridger’s voice cracks through the silence, loud, panicked,wrong. “It’s Cody! He’s gone! He fucking left to go after Clay—alone!”
My whole body jolts.
Damian lifts his head and looks at me, already pulling away, already out of the bed.
The look on his face guts me. It’s not anger. Not confusion. It’s fear. Real, raw terror. The kind of fear that doesn’t come from what Cody’s done—but from what Damian knows Clay is capable of. He stares at me for half a second longer, chest rising, sweat still cooling on his skin.
And I feel the shift, right down to my bones. Because whatever softness just lived between us—whatever quiet we stole—just got ripped away.
He’s already moving.
One second, he’s wrapped around me, still inside me, still warm. The next, he’s out of the bed and pulling his jeans up with shaking hands. His jaw is clenched like he’s trying to hold himself together with nothing but adrenaline and rage.
I scramble to sit up, reaching for my clothes, but my hands are shaking too much. My legs are jelly, my body wrecked from everything he just gave me—but I force myself to move.
I need to move.
I need to go with him.
But before I can even get my jeans over my hips, Damian’s there. Kneeling in front of me. His hands are on my face, fingers strong and trembling, and his eyes—those hazel eyes that are usually sharp and hard and unflinching—looklost.
“Stay here,” he says, voice low and breaking. “Please, Lo.”
I open my mouth to argue, to tell him there’s no fucking way I’m letting him walk into something like this alone, but he cuts me off—thumb brushing across my cheek, eyes burning into mine like he’s memorizing me.
