“I don’t,” I gasp. “I want your cock to live inside me forever. Every inch. Everyfuckinginch.”
He pulls out halfway, with the head inside, then he slams in powerfully enough to make my vision blur.
“Linus.”
“Yes.” He fucks me in steady, devastating strokes. “Say my name while I’m inside you. Let this pussy know who belongs inside it.”
“You do,” I choke out. “Linus.Fuck—”
The friction is devastating. Every time he bottoms out, he hits my G-spot, again and again. He’s not human. It’s like he knows my body better than I do, like he’s been here in other lifetimes, carving this path through me, chasing the same fire.
The kitchen is filled with the slaps of skin, the sound of him sliding in and out of me. Filthy. Perfect. He rocks his pelvis into me, now hitting my clit with a dark, deliberate rhythm. The dual stimulation is unreal. Like two cocks are fucking me at once.
My pussy clamps down so hard he cries out. Good. I want him to lose himself the way I’m unraveling, melting around him like wax.
“You’re gonna come for me again.” He bites my lower lip. “I feel it. Your sweet little pussy’s milkin’ me already.”
“I want all of it,” I shriek, wild, unashamed. “I want you to fill me up. I want to feel you drip out of me.”
He slams into me until the edge is right there, coiled and ready, molten and monstrous. When I let go, it’s a full-body detonation. My back arches, mouth open in a silent scream as my pussy locks around his cock.
“Fuckfuckfuck—” he chokes, and I feel his cock swell. His whole body tenses, hands bruising my hips as he empties himself into me.
We stay locked together, unwilling to separate, for a long time.
We’re not two people anymore.
We are a ritual. Aruin. A revelation.
He finally exhales against my neck, kisses my throat, and whispers something sounding a lot like, “mine.”
I hold on to the moment. The madness.
Fate itself is watching.
Neither of us will ever be the same again.
thirty
Linus
One Month Later
Thelightinmybedroom is soft.
Honest.
Slanting across the jumbled mess we made last night. My sheets are half-off the bed. Avonna’s thigh is thrown over mine.
Our skin still sticky with sweat and sex.
She’s not asleep. I can tell by the way her breath holds when I shift. Lately, after sex, she stills. Almost like if she moves the spell will break.
It won’t.
Avonna.
Wild, dangerous, honestAvonna.
