Sloane shuddered. His hips began to roll in a jagged beat, shuttling his cock through her fingers. The bike rocked beneath them, but she didn’t spare a single thought to the possibility of tipping over. He wouldn’t let that happen.
And even if it did… Well, it wasn’t like it would be the first time.
But any memories of other men and other times were too far away to reach her when Sloane stroked the inside of her cunt like that, as if he was hungry for every little ripple and slick glide.
The sounds of their bodies echoed in the concrete garage. Wet, sloppy noises and heavy breathing accompanied the creak of the bike beneath them. Everything she knew, everything she was, narrowed to the string of pleasure that pulled ever-more taut between them.
The pressure built and built until it threatened to explode out of her.
Determined to make this a good time for him, too, Cecilia twisted her wrist, stroking his cock with every bit of skill she’d developed over the years of bad decisions and worse hookups.
It must’ve done the trick, because not a moment later Sloane’s massive body flexed in a fluid wave. His release spilled over her knuckles, hot and perfect, and when her name whispered through that damn helmet again and again…
Cecilia’s back bowed. Her orgasm was as sweet and sharp and dangerous as the man who gave it to her. Tingles cascaded down her body as a rush of endorphins left her limp over the handlebars. Sloane had to support her back to stop her from sliding onto the garage floor to create a Cecilia-flavored puddle.
Threading her fingers into the tiny pale hairs that managed to escape the bottom of his helmet, she slurred, “You good, champ?”
Sloane wrapped his arm around her back. Dropping his helmet onto her shoulder, he wheezed, “Affirmative.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE
“Where do you sleep?”
Cecilia leaned against the doorway. She’d showered and changed into her pajamas, a pair of soft pink flannel shorts and a button down shirt. It’d been good to take her time getting ready for bed, she thought, to give him a minute to process. To give her one, too.
Elves have mates. I’m his mate. If I want to be. What a trip.
It sure put a lot of things into perspective. She’d known folks who had mate drives and others who found themselves the fixation of them. Orcs, vampires, shifters, dragons — they all had their own special cocktails of urges that drove them absolutely batty for that one special person.
Sloane’s behavior sure fit that description. He denied it, but for all she knew, stalking and murder was part of the mating instinct package elves were saddled with. If so, it would make their keeping it under wraps make alotof sense.
She’d always suspected they were a bunch of kinky little weirdos. No onethatrepressed turned out normal.
The man stood in the hallway outside the bedroom, his shoulders back and hands tucked behind him in that military stance. She was pretty sure he’d changed into clean clothes, butit was honestly hard to tell since he seemed to own multiple versions of the same garments. The only evidence that he was affected at all by what they’d done was the lack of modulator disguising his voice when he replied, “In the armory.”
Her brows drew together. “There’s a bed in there?”
“No,” he answered, “I rack out on the floor.”
“You rack out on the— Yousleepon the floor?” Cecilia pointed in the direction of the living room. “Sloane, there’s a couch!”
He shook his head. “I can’t sleep in an unsecured location. The Battery is safe, but there are still windows.”
Understanding dawned. “You can’t relax when you feel exposed.”
“Correct.”
She looked around with fresh eyes. The serial killer bunker sure made more sense now that she possessed that little tidbit of information. There was still so much she didn’t know about him, but after tonight, Cecilia felt like she’d unlocked something essential.
Sloane was painfully, dangerously in love with her, and he was the single most vulnerable apex predator on the planet.
Guilt pierced her, though she knew it wasn’t entirely fair to feel it. She didn’t blame herself for being wary of him, seeing as he’d killed three men in front of her before hedruggedandkidnapped her,but now that she knew him better, she didn’t like the thought of him sleeping on the floor.
Scuffing her bare heel against the cool floor, she offered, “Well, if you want… you could share the bed with me.”
Sloane made a funny half-step sort of motion, almost like he’d nearly lost his balance.
