I shift, opening my hips to take him deeper and he lets out a hiss and nips my lower lip. I whimper and his tongue licks over the spot, easing the pain. I love that I feel completely alive with him inside of me, like I was made for this, for him. I love that he holds me like I could break, gives me each long, luxurious stroke like a sacred gift.
I move my hands, caressing the muscles of his broad back. They bunch and strain and come alive under my touch and I realize how close he is, how he’s holding himself back just for me, waiting for me.
I was too busy enjoying what he was doing before, but I close my eyes, letting the fiery shivers of arousal creep into my thighs and spread higher. He changes the pace, pistoning into me a little harder and faster, pulling out and driving home slowly, letting me savor each long, thick inch of him, and I take him deep, all of him, every single time. His strokes are so slow, so languid, so deliciously hot that I feel myself falling, icy cold tendrils of bliss already curling through me.
He drops his head and takes my nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue over the straining bud and I come apart at the seams. It’s a deep shattering, different from my other climaxes, hotter, darker, a swirling vortex that sucks me under.
Edge shudders above me. He thrusts hard, seating himself so deep inside of me that I gasp and spread my legs around him, trying to accommodate him, but then his shoulders tremble and his breathing turns ragged against my overheatedskin, and I feel his cock kick, filling me as he bursts deep inside of me.
We shake together, our bodies trembling, him pulsing inside of me and my body responding in kind, as we come down from our high.
I feel dizzy when I open my eyes, light-headed, and so, so happy. I know I’m probably grinning like a fool and that I probably look ridiculous, but I can’t stop. I smile until my face aches from it and I feel Edge’s deep chuckle shake his massive shoulders.
My eyes adjust to the dark enough that I can see the hard outlines of Edge’s face. He’s so handsome, even with those bruises. His lips are parted, a dark shadow of stubble outlining his jaw. He’s so ruggedly and darkly beautiful that it steals my breath.
The momentary spell is shattered when my stomach growls. Edge laughs before he shifts away. He stands and reaches down for me, hauls me up against his warm, damp chest, still heaving with the force of his rapid breaths. His pulse jumps at his neck erratically and I reach up and press my lips to it.
He sets me down gently at the foot of the bed while he produces one of his t-shirts for me to wear. He throws on some boxers of his own before he turns the light on.
I blink against the harsh sting, but I watch his hands, love welling up inside of me all over, threatening to burst the heart that’s knocking so hard on the underside of my ribs it’s probably doing some real damage in there.
Morning, wife,he signs to me and I will never, ever, forget the look on his face as my eyes swivel up in stunned surprise.
His black eye is finally open a crack and even though the eye is red and sore beneath, he blinks at me nearly shyly, his shoulders rolled forward, slightly tense, his breath hitched up, his face a mask of uncertainty as he waits for me to respond.
Wife. The rest of the world wouldn’t see what we’ve done as marriage, but in the club, in the eyes of the other men and the women too, I’ve been claimed. Edge has marked me as his and that’s as good as any stupid ceremony or a gold ring.
It takes me a minute, because I have to blink hard to keep the pinpricks dancing at the backs of my eyes from spilling over. I feel my lips wobble, but I get them turned up in a smile and Edge lets out a hard breath of relief. I know that I don’t imagine that glistening in his eyes, the way they darken or the way his whole face suffuses with love and tenderness.
“I think it’s actually night,”I say.
“Doesn’t matter. I’m still going to make you breakfast.”
“I think the cupboards are pretty much empty,”I tell him. I used most of the groceries in my cookie baking marathon yesterday.
He winks at me, and oh my god, the bottom of my stomach drops out and that familiar heat is back, pooling between my legs, insatiable and red hot, and I know, even before his lips move, what he’s going to say.
“I wasn’t talking about food.”
Chapter Nineteen
Harley
Something’s not right.
The air crackles around me, shifts and changes, and my skin prickles with unease, the hairs on my neck and arms standing up with a shiver that lands right in the pit of my stomach.
Even though I’m not fully awake, I sit up, clutching the sheets to my naked chest. I let out a whimper when I shift towards Edge, but he’s already awake, reaching under his pillow for the gun he keeps there.
He must hear something that tells him everything is okay, because his fingers slide away and he gives me the shadow of a smile before he slides from bed. I watch him gather up his clothes and shrug into them.
It’s amazing that he can walk at all, because I don’t think it’s a miracle I can replicate.
After we ate cookies for breakfast, or really, dinner, last night, Edge took me back to the bedroom. We woke throughout the night, coming together over and over again. Sometimes he’d take mercy on me and worship my body until I was so tightly coiled that all it took was a bite on my nipple or a tiny amount of pressure with his tongue on my clit and I’d shatter apart. Sometimes he wasn’t so gentle, because being inside me was the only thing that would satisfy us both. I took him in my hand, my mouth… worshipped his beautiful hard body the same way he paid homage to mine. I memorized everysingle detail, what he liked, what he didn’t, what he pretended not to, what made him lose control completely.
I swallow hard and the taste of him floods my mouth. I can’t tell if it’s just memory, or if it still clings to my tongue, but I savor it, salty and smoky and raw.
I let out a sigh of relief as I eye the pillow where I know Edge keeps a 9mm. I hate that he’s seen and done things that make him feel that he needs to have it there. I also know that it’s not loaded, that the clip is in the nightstand, first drawer. I’m glad that whoever was out there, it’s not a threat.
