"I won’t, love. Not until you’re screaming my name." I pull back, almost all the way out, then thrust forward again. Hard. Deep. Watching her face change, watching her eyes flutter shut and her mouth fall open.
I fuck her against the wall.
There's no other word for it. This isn't making love. This isn't tender or gentle or careful. This is two people who almost losteach other claiming what's theirs with every stroke, every thrust, every desperate sound that echoes off the safehouse walls.
Her nails dig into my shoulders. Her heels press into my lower back, urging me deeper. She's so wet I can hear it, the sound of our bodies meeting, and it drives me higher. Harder.
"Mine," I grunt against her throat. "Say it."
"Yours."
"Again."
"I'm yours, Leone. Only yours. Always."
I shift my angle, hitching her higher against the wall, and the new position drags me across that spot inside her that makes her scream. Her whole body tightens, clenching around me, and I feel her getting close. Feel the flutter of her muscles, the way her breath is coming faster, the way her nails are digging in hard enough to draw blood.
"Come for me," I tell her. "Let me feel it."
She shatters.
Her orgasm rips through her, body convulsing, pussy gripping me so tight I have to grit my teeth to keep from following. She screams my name, loud enough that anyone outside would hear,and I swallow the sound with my mouth, kissing her through the aftershocks, holding her up when her legs go weak.
I carry her to the bed.
She's still trembling when I lay her down, still clenching around me in little waves. I pull out long enough to strip her shirt over her head, then mine, then the rest of my clothes. I need skin. All of it. Nothing between us.
I cover her body with mine and slide back inside.
She gasps, oversensitive, but her hips rise to meet me. Her hands find my back, tracing the scars, the muscle, the ridges of my spine. I move slower now. Long, deep strokes that make her moan with every thrust.
"I love you," I say against her mouth.
"I love you too."
"I killed fifteen men for you."
"I know."
"I'd kill fifty more."
"I know that too." She pulls me down, presses her forehead to mine. "And I'd do the same for you. Whatever it took. Whoever I had to become."
My heart cracks open. Expanding. Making room for the thing she's putting there, the thing that's been growing since the first night she called me a coward, and I realized I'd finally met someone who could see through me.
I move faster. Deeper. Chasing the edge, feeling it build at the base of my spine. She's getting close again, I can tell by the way her breath becomes erratic, the way her body arches beneath me, the way her fingers dig into my hips and pull me harder.
"Together," she pants. "I want us to come together."
I reach between us. Find her clit. Rub tight circles while I thrust, matching the rhythm, pushing us both toward the edge.
"Now," I grit out. "Come with me now."
She does.
We break apart at the same time, waves of pleasure crashing through us, her body milking mine while I empty myself inside her. I bury my face in her neck and groan her name, feeling her pulse against my lips, feeling her heart hammering against my chest, feeling everything.
We lie tangled, sweaty, dead to the world.
