Her groan is pure ecstasy as she moves against me, her clit grinding against my shaft as she drives her own pleasure.
Heat intensifies along with her breathing, and I grip her waist hard between my hands, pumping up into her, almost jerking off inside her.
Her head falls back, offering me easy access to her neck, and I suck on the sweet flesh, rutting like an animal inside her.
My pulse is pounding as the blood sears inside me, her gentle moans strangely hypnotic against the music.
Then she screams, like an angel tumbling from the sky, and as her pussy clamps down on my cock, I swear I see stars. My release is violent, surprising even, and as I power into her, my mind is emptied of nothing but euphoria.
The demons fly away as the angels form a circle around me, allowing me peace for a delicious moment, a lightness of spirit that I certainly don’t deserve.
I bury my face into her neck, breathing in deeply as my cock jerks inside her, weeping with happiness.
She feels like home. Why does she bring me so much peace when I bring her nothing but misery?
I close my eyes against her throat, her arms tightly wrapped around me, glued together, our hearts pounding. Closer than two people can be, aside from physicality, almost intimate.
Tension slides from my shoulders, my breathing evening out, my cock reluctant to leave, and my mind fucked.
She presses light kisses on my head, her fingers stroking my back, and she whispers, “I forgive you, Joseph.”
I close my eyes, unusual tears welling behind them, a simple statement that is at odds with my world.
She presses light kisses on my face, her heart beating against mine, and she says softly, “I understand what you did, your reasons for it, and well, I appreciate your honesty.”
I tighten my hold, reluctant to let her inside. Forgiveness isn’t something I deserve, if only she knew why.
My heart is broken; it can never be repaired, and so with a deep inward sigh, I relax my hold and say huskily, “Come, we should clean up. My workout has made me hungry.”
I nip her lip, loving her soft groan, and as she shifts off me, she leaves a slick trail on my cock.
She glances down, and her skin flushes, and her eyes sparkle as she whispers, “I’m sorry about that. I’ll grab you a cloth to clean up.”
She’s sorry – that’s adorable, and the old me would be instructing her to get on her knees and clean it up with her mouth. But not Tiffany, not my queen. I don’t want her to kneel at my request. I don’t want to order her to do anything which surprises me. I am her servant, not the other way around, and as she pulls on her robe, her small, impish smile unravels my heart.
CHAPTER 31
TIFFANY
Ican’t believe I did that. When I woke and Joseph was gone, I was bereft. It hurt that he wasn’t there. I loved knowing he was beside me, and I wasted no time in searching for him. It took a while too. His house is enormous, set on four floors. I drifted through the impersonal rooms, pristine like a show home, and with every step it revealed a lot about the man who locks himself away from the world.
The thump of the music directed me to the basement, and when I saw him, something electric passed through my body. He is a god. A slick muscle machine of power. His body was coated in sweat, his loud grunts of pain as he lifted the weights almost animalistic.
My beast.
My gorgeous, maniacal beast, who wears his pain in plain sight, closed to the world, unemotional and lost.
I noticed the tattoo of a name resting above his heart and stole a brief glance.
Zac with an arrow passing between the letters.
I wonder who Zac is? Did he love him? Was it his first kill, perhaps? I wouldn’t put it past the man to wear the names of his victims as a badge of honor on his skin. His enemies, perhaps.
But from what I can see, there are no other names inked on his skin. Merely skulls, demons, and words, thorns, and daggers. His skin is a turbulent mass of nightmares, the Grim Reaper a particularly sinister one that causes me to shiver. His dark beauty attracts rather than repels, and his arms and torso are almost entirely covered by turbulent black ink.
The power of the man is an impossible attraction and gives me bravery on a subject I know nothing about. When he is inside me, it empties my mind of nothing but him. The way he holds me securely, protectively, even as he thrusts inside my body, stealing what he needs from me, giving me more back.
We are two lost souls who work well together, physically anyway; mentally, I’m not so sure.
