I crash my mouth onto hers again, abandoning all pretense of restraint. This time, it’s a possession. I bite her lip, hard enough to taste copper, and she moans into my mouth, a wanton sound that destroys me.
My hands find the hem of the flannel shirt and shove it upward. My calloused palms hit the bare skin of her waist, and she gasps, arching into my touch. Her skin feels fever-hot, satin-smooth. I drag my hands up her ribcage, feeling the frantic beat of her heart, until Icup her breasts through her bra. She’s full, heavy, perfect.
I break the kiss to look at her. Her head is thrown back, throat exposed, eyes fluttering shut. She looks wrecked. Beautifully, gloriously wrecked.
"Look at me," I command.
Her eyes fly open, hazy with lust.
"You aren't a victim here," I tell her, voice dropping. "You have all the power. You tell me to stop, and I walk away. I cut my own heart out before I force you. Do you understand?"
"I understand," she pants. "Don't stop."
I grind my hips forward, letting her feel the full length of my erection against her pussy. She cries out, legs tightening around me, heels digging into my kidneys.
"You're a monster," she whispers, a mix of awe and hunger.
"I'll fit," I promise darkly. "I'll stretch you until you take all of me. I'll occupy every inch of you until there's no room left for his ghost."
I move my hand between us, pressing my palm over the crotch of her leggings. Heat radiates from her. I slide my hand up her waist, gripping the soft fabric of her t-shirt, pulling her flushed body hard against my chest.
She doesn't just breathe; she hitches, a raw, needy sound catching in her throat as she sags against my shoulder, her body already vibrating for me.
"Feel that?" I murmur into her ear, nipping the lobe. "That's for me. Your body knows who you belong to even if your head is still catching up."
I increase the pressure. She’s sensitive, incredibly responsive. Her hips buck against my hand, seeking more friction. I keep one arm wrapped tight around her back to anchor her while my other hand works her. She's soaking wet, the fabric of her leggings damp under my palm. The heavy, primal scent of her pussy hits me—the musky, sweet smell of her cream soaking through the fabric.
I can see the dark, damp patch spreading across the crotch of her leggings where she’s leaking for me, the sight making my cock throb with a violent need to claim her right here on the counter.
"You're soaking," I murmur, sliding my hand lower to cup her, grinding my knuckles against her swollen lips. "Drenched."
"More," she demands, hips snapping forward. "Blake, don't tease me."
"What do you need?"
"You. Just... you."
I shove my hand beneath the waistband of her leggings, my rough, calloused palm sliding over the sweat-slicked skin of herhip. There’s no lace in the way, just bare, burning skin. I drive my fingers straight between her soaking labia, finding her pussy already dripping. She isn't just "ready"—she’s twitching around my hand, her walls slick and hungry for the friction only I can give her.
I want to push her back against the granite and tear the clothes off her until there's nothing left between us but raw skin and heat.
A sharp beep from the security console cuts through the haze like a knife. My head snaps toward the monitor wall. The proximity alarm. Not the perimeter fence—the road sensors. Someone is coming up the switchbacks. Fast.
I freeze. The soldier overrides the lover in a heartbeat. I withdraw my hand, the loss of contact physical pain.
"Stay here," I order, voice dropping into command tone. I step back, putting space between us. "Do not come near the windows. If I say 'run,' go to the panic room in the cellar and lock it from the inside."
"Blake?" Her eyes go wide, the haze of lust vanishing into sharp fear. "Is it him?"
I stride to the console, bringing up the feed. A familiar heavy-duty pickup truck tears up the dirt road, kicking up a cloud of dust. I exhale, tension in my shoulders easing slightly, though adrenaline still redlines.
"It's Logan," I tell her. "And Austin."
"Your cousins?"
"Brothers," I correct. "And if they're coming up here in force, the situation downtown just got complicated."
I turn back to her. She looks small in the middle of the kitchen, flour on her face, lips swollen from my mouth, smelling like sex and pussy and yeast. She looks like everything I’ve ever wanted to come home to.
