The thought made me tear away from Stone’s mouth and gasp for air.
“We shouldn’t do this.” I had to pry the words out of me. “He’s my Finneuma,” I confessed, not wanting to say another man’s name at a time like this. “I’m fated to be with him. He’s my soulmate, Stone.”
Stone paused mid-grind.
He looked at me, benumbed, sweat sliding down his hairline.
“Soulmate?” he asked, surprised.
I couldn’t handle the look in his hooded eyes, so I cast mine away.
“Soulmate,” Stone repeated, steering my chin with his thumb until our gazes locked again. His lips were apple-red and swollen when he looked at me. He shook his head, grabbed the back of mine, and pressed our heads together. “Haven’t I ever told you?”—he thrust inside me—“Soulmates are overrated.” His hand turned into a fist at my scalp as he nailed his cock to the hilt, grinding inside me, keeping us bound together in every way he could so I was forced to feel him everywhere.
We kissed hungrily and desperately, teeth scraping flesh, skin slick with sweat. Hands were ripping off shirts until my breast was in his palm, the pad of his thumb grazing my erect nipple. My jaw fell open, and he sank his tongue back into my mouth until I was a trembling ocean in his arms.
Another orgasm was climbing, attacking my insides. Stone stood straight, his hands flying to my clit. I wriggled against his hold, the feeling already too intense.
“Stone,” I screamed, scratching the oak wood.
But his eyes were raping my pink center, consumed by the sight of the pad of his thumb stroking my clit, the sight of his scarred cock inching inside me, dragging out, then pushing back in. He smashed my clit against his mound, and utter pleasure had a hold on me, my whole body charged. I bit the inside of my cheek to supress a cry.
Stone’s eyes sailed up to mine before he came down on me, anchoring us together. “Our souls know no boundaries,” he whispered, burying his cock inside me and grinding. “If he was truly your soulmate, why am I here right now and not him? Why am I the one who makes you feel like this?”
I shook my head, an intense cry falling from my mouth as the desk banged against the wall, another climax racing to the brink. The bottle I was supposed to throw into the sea wobbled on the shelf the same way a string of lights wrapped around my bones, bundling inside of me, a tangled mess, every bulb on and shining bright, tripping me toward the edge of the cliff.
I watched the message in my bottle go down as my body free-fell, heading straight for the climax. Blood floating, heart pounding, mind weak, we were all falling.
Then we crashed to the floor, my message and me, a blown fuse, shattering and scattering. A spine-tingling mess and a pile of broken glass. At once, the bell chimed throughout the castle, indicating it was the witching hour.
Stone reached under my ass, squeezing the flesh with a delicious grind that kept me trapped in the never-ending land of ecstasy.
My orgasm convulsed, and it caught Stone’s breath.
He kissed me slowly, passionately until the orgasm was stealing him, too.
Then his forehead fell onto mine as he hungrily rolled his hips until his cock pulsed inside me, and a curse tumbled off his tongue.
He tensed up, his body stiff. Then when the orgasm released him, goosebumps covered his skin and black eyes fell on me. We didn’t want to let go, sweaty foreheads connected, staring at each other as we heaved for a breath.
“You didn’t answer, darling,” he panted.
“I don’t know the answer,” I whispered.
“What do you know then?”
I turned my head away, wishing I was brave enough to say it.
I knew I loved the feel of silk on my legs after shaving them. I knew I loved it when a dress fit perfectly on a woman’s body. I knew I loved old films, vintage pieces, and one-of-a-kind things. And I knew I loved how he touched me, whether it be his fingers, his tongue, his lips. Surely, I could even admit it all out loud. But I could never confess that I knew I was deeply, madly and passionately in love with him.
In the end, it wouldn’t do either one of us any good.
“After knowing the truth, I thought you would hate me forever,” I said.
“I do hate you.” His words were hot steam on my lips as he guided my hand to the nape of his neck for me to hold as he fucked me slowly. His mouth moved like depressed clouds over my lips, my cheek, my ear. “And I hate the nauseating scent you left behind at the lighthouse and the scars you left behind on me. I hate your eyes, your smile, and how awful you taste. And these hideous lips of yours.” He brushed his thumb across my bottom lip. “They’re repulsive, and I have not stopped thinking about them.”
He smiled, his arm snaking around my back, and he picked me up off the desk, my legs instantly wrapping around his waist. His hand slid from my scalp down my spine before squeezing my ass, both palms spreading my cheeks wide as he rocked me, my pussy hungrily stroking his scarred shaft. My lips trailed down his throat in a satisfactory moan, and I clung on to his neck, crushing my breasts to his chest, tasting earth and salt on his skin.
From the corner of my eye, the letter lay on the floor in a pile of broken glass.
