She gasps when I take her by the hips as she’s laying her shirt across the back of a wooden chair. I turn her in place and press her back to the wall, and there’s only time to catch a flash of desire in her eyes before I crush her lips under mine. She tastes sweet, like something I could get addicted to, and her delicious little moans only turn my need into sheer desperation. I have to be inside her. Now.
We don’t say a word, hands fumbling with our wet clothes, our mouths meeting and parting until finally she pulls off her panties so I can sink my fingers into her tight heat. She’s wet there, too, slippery and dripping onto my knuckles by the time she unfastens and drops my jeans to the floor. Her slim fingers claw at my shorts, stuck to my skin thanks to the rain. I withdraw from her quivering pussy and yank them down far enough to pull my cock free.
There’s no hesitation. No moment of second-guessing. She wraps a leg around my hip, and I drag my head through her silky folds before driving deep into her tight, pulsing cunt.
“Oh my God!” Her head falls back against the wall, mouth open, eyes closed as she absorbs the sensation of being stretched by my thick shaft. Rain pounds the roof and windows, but that’s nothing compared to the pounding of my heart, deafening me to almost everything else.
But not to her. Her mouth is close to my ear, and every thrust of my hips stirs another throaty moan. “Yes… Yes…” she urges, pinned between my body and the wall behind her. There’s nothing in the world with this—her body, ripe and luscious, the tight muscles that grip me like a vise, the juices that run down my cock and over my balls. So easily excited. So ready for me.
“Fuck me,” she whispers, nails running down my back. “Fuck me hard. I need it. I need you.”
Not as much as I need her. Not as much as I need to remind myself she’s safe. I protected her because she’s mine.
And she is a dream come true. Made for me. As she works herself up and down my length, her nipples brush my chest. Her rain-dampened skin tastes like nothing I’ve ever known, but I can’t live without it. That’s all I know.
I lift her other leg off the floor, carrying her the short distance to the round kitchen table. I lay her across it, letting her pull me in with her legs wrapped around my ass. The table rocks with every unforgiving stroke, deeper, harder, the way she wants it. The way we both do.
“Yes!” she shouts, her back arched, her body writhing like waves on the ocean. “Give it to me!”
And I do. I give her everything. My years of loneliness, all the pain I’ve caused, my gratitude for everything she’s already given me. A sense of purpose. A reason to go on.
I didn’t know I needed that until now. I didn’t know it was missing. Now I know I was waiting for her.
“I’m going to come!” she whines, reaching for my arms, holding on tight the way her pussy grips me. “Come with me!”
I’m going to. I couldn’t help it if I tried. The instant her muscles start fluttering, milking me, I have no choice but to let go. To fill her until my cum drips between us and she is left trembling, lost in the aftermath. Flushed, glistening, beautiful. So beautiful, so mine.
Right now, in the middle of this madness, that’s all I know. It’s all I need to know.
8
LENNON
You’d think a place like this would feel haunted; an empty cabin located in the middle of nowhere, out in the woods, miles from civilization. Instead, it’s pretty cozy, and right now, it’s the only place in the world where I feel like I can breathe a little easier. I can’t help but smile when I wake, tangled in Jack’s arms, sheets rumpled, and his body a shield against everything ugly out there. He’s out cold, one arm heavy across my waist, chest rising and falling with each peaceful breath. He looks so cute with his mouth hanging open just a bit as he snores quietly. I could stare at him for hours, and sometimes I do. He looks softer when he sleeps, almost boyish, once you get past the scar along his jaw and the way his hand twitches like he’s ready to reach for a gun even in his dreams.
The sun slants through the window, golden and soft, reflecting dust motes as they lazily drift through the rays. For a second, I forget the rest of my life. I pretend it’s always been this way, just me and Jack. The world outside is just a rumor. No one is looking for us. No debts. No danger.
I snuggle closer, breathing in the scent of his skin, my leg sliding between his. My whole body aches with a deep, satisfiedpulse in every muscle. I can’t get enough of him. Is it sick that I crave him more now than ever? That even after everything he’s done, all the fear and running, his touch is the only thing that pulls me out of my own head.
It’s hard to believe we’ve spent days here, hiding, surviving on canned beans, tuna fish, and soup. Everything we eat tastes metallic and weird, but it doesn’t bother me.
It’s nothing like Jack’s fancy apartment in the city. There’s no sleek kitchen, no marble floors. Just rough wooden counters, a saggy couch, and the whistle of the wind coming in through warped window frames. But this place feels more like home than anywhere I’ve ever lived. Maybe it’s because now I know the real Jack. Not the mob guy, not the enforcer, but the man who holds me when my nightmares crowd in. The one who makes me laugh even when I want to cry.
I should be afraid. I know I should. Bad people are still after us. Every day that goes by that we’re off the grid, the angrier O’Grady gets. The risk grows every day that goes by. But none of that matters when Jack’s hand traces circles on my hip or when his lips find my neck.
I could stay in this bubble forever. I want the real world to fuck off for just a little longer. I want to be selfish, greedy, and stupid in love.
The hunger I have for this man is endless. There’s no quenching it. Even now, hours after Jack fucked me so deep that I forgot my own name, I can still feel him everywhere. My thighs are sore, pussy aching, my skin marked up from where he grabbed and bit and worshipped me like I belonged to him. I’m still dripping for him, still clenching around nothing, desperate for that stretch, the rough and perfect way he moves inside me. The memory of his hands, hot and greedy, his mouth, his tongue teasing me until I was begging. All of it has me squirming against the sheets.
I watch him sleep, hungry for more, imagining climbing on top and sliding down on his cock. I want to feel his hands gripping my ass as I make him lose control all over again. The heat, the pressure, the way it feels so fucking good when he’s deep inside me. Nothing else compares. It’s like that part of him was made just for me, to fit me perfectly. I’ve never had anyone make me feel so alive, owned, so wanted.
But then the guilt creeps in, and I roll away, staring up at the ceiling.What’s wrong with me?While I’m out here loving life, my dad’s somewhere out there scared or worse. What kind of daughter am I, hiding out with some guy I barely know, playing house, while he pays for my mistakes…no, his mistakes. Ahh, everything is such a twisted-up mess.
I turn over on my side and stare out the window. The birds chirp, all bright and cheerful. They are lucky creatures. They know nothing about fear or guilt or men with guns. They just wake up, sing, and do it all again. I wish my life could be that simple.
My phone’s been off for days. I want to call home, but I can’t risk it. O’Grady’s men could be watching, waiting for me to slip up. I imagine my dad in our apartment, chain-smoking, staring out the window, cursing himself for letting me get dragged into this. I want to hate him. Sometimes I do. But I still love him, and that’s the part that hurts the most.
I know this can’t last. I’m not a little girl anymore, dreaming about fairy tales and happy endings. Life made me stop believing in that shit years ago. All I can do now is hold on to the present, Jack’s arms, this bed, and the warmth that keeps my worst fears at bay.
