I turn my back toward him and wait for him to start. He takes his time, washing every inch of me. Like I’m something sacred until he pins me against the wall with his hand around my throat. A soft moan escapes my lips as he squeezes me tighter.
“Why are you here tonight, Ro?”
Because I wanted to see you. I wanted to feel you. I wanted— it doesn’t matter what I want. He’s always trying to dig when I just want to forget. I palm his balls, and give them a slow squeeze. “Does it really matter?”
He flinches—but recovers fast. He sucks in air through his teeth and shakes his head. Then he presses his lips to mine, and devours me like I’m his last meal, holding me to him by the back of my head. He’s all hands—greedy, hungry—grabbing every inch of me like he’ll never get enough.
“Why are you like this tonight?” I ask, brushing his wet hair back.
He places his head against mine. “Nothing you need to worry about,” he mutters. “Just a long day.”
I know it’s all bullshit. His grip is tighter than usual, like he’s afraid if he doesn’t hold onto me tighter, I might slip away. I almost call him on his bullshit. I almost demand him tell me what’s going on in his head, but when his eyes meet mine and the flicker of pain flashes in them, I stop. Instead, I wrap my arms around his neck and pull his lips down to mine. He needs to forget tonight, too.
It doesn’t take long before he lifts me—still dripping—and tosses me onto the bed like he owns me.
I barely hit the mattress before he’s on top of me, soaking wet and hard. His mouth crashes into mine—no pretense, no patience.Just heat.
“I told you I needed to feel you,” he growls against my lips.
“Then stop talking and do it,” I hiss back.
His hand wraps around my throat again—with just enough pressure to send a thrill through my veins. His fingers slide between my thighs, and I gasp as he finds me already soaked.
“You like being handled, filthy Rabbit?”
“I like being fucked by someone who knows what they’re doing,” I shoot back.
He growls and flips me in one movement, shoving my hips up and dragging his cock along my entrance.
“Then shut up and take it.”
He slams into me with a brutal thrust, stealing the air from my lungs. I claw at the sheets, teeth clenching as he drives into me again and again, fingers digging into my hips like he’s claiming me.
“You think this is just sex?” he whispers darkly against my ear. “This is mine. You’re mine.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” I pant.
He pulls out suddenly, flips me back over, and shoves inside again—harder this time. Our eyes lock. He’s feral. I’m wrecked.It’s perfect.
His hand slips between us and presses against my clit. Circles. Pressure.
“Come for me,” he commands. “Let the world hear how good I fuck you.”
I don’t want to give him the satisfaction. But my body betrays me—hips bucking, back arching, vision blurring as the orgasm crashes through me like a goddamn wave.
He groans and buries himself deep one last time as he follows me over the edge. His whole body shudders against mine.
When it’s over, he doesn’t move. Instead, he rests his forehead against mine. Breathing. Bruised. Still inside me.
“You still think this is just sex?” he murmurs.
I don’t answer.I can’t.
Because part of me is terrified it isn’t and I don’t know what that makes me.
Chapter 30
Ryven
