Page 49 of Into Pitch

She detonates.

I nearly black out as my hips stutter, my release white-hot as it lashes through me and spills deep inside of her tight heat. Not giving a damn about birth control or consequences as I pump into her, wanting to work every last drop deeper. Wanting to brand her just as physically as my words already have.

Only when she collapses onto the table and I’ve finally softened do I pull out of her. Reaching down, I gather my release where it leaks from her swollen center and stuff it back in, holding it there as she twitches at the intrusion.

“We’re far from finished, little fox.”

Her eyes fly open and I drag her from the table.

Sadie sleeps.

Her body stretched out beside me in the narrow bed of the bus, hair spilled across the cotton in a loose, uneven halo. One of her arms tucked beneath the pillow, the other curved toward me as if her body decided sometime after the exhaustion took her, that this was where it belonged.

My fingers hover above her spine before I let myself touch again. Careful as I trace down it, following the subtle rise and fall beneath her skin. She’s peppered in blossoming bruises where we may have gotten a little rough, but she hadn’t complained so I hadn’t stopped.

I map her with my fingers. Every vertebra. Every shallow dip.

She doesn’t stir and I exhale quietly through my nose and let my palm flatten between her shoulder blades. She radiates heat, and the awareness of it sinks deep. I’m acutely conscious of the fact that she’s here because she chose to be.

My mouth curves slightly at the declaration in my mind. Something born from the primal part of my brain that hisses about her belonging to me. That she is mine in every way that counts.

I drop my mouth and kiss the mark already blooming on the swell of her shoulder where my teeth had sank when I had her pinned to the cabinets. Not enough to break skin, but she had screamed and clawed at my shoulders exquisitely. The lines stinging with every shift of my shoulder blades, but I’d gladly wear them. I’d gladly have her do it all over again.

My fingers resume their slow path as I gently kiss her heated skin, thumb brushing the swell of her ass before I palm it possessively. My eyes dip to my grip as she murmurs in her sleep and arches slightly. Soon she’d take me there too, we would just need a little more prep for that. I’m confident after probing it tonight with my thumb that she hasn’t taken anyone there, not with the way she had fought me back on it.

Something about that fills me with a sick kind of anticipation.

I pull my hand away and slide it back to her hip, pleased that she’s so worn out she doesn’t rouse to the feel of me over her. I shift so that my body hovers over the top of her, my cock already hard again where I let it slide over the low of her back.

She doesn’t so much as stir as I shift onto one palm and reach down to grip myself, lifting my hips so that I can line up with her. She’s taken much tonight, but I’ve not had enough.

I’m not sure I ever will.

I sink into her and she stirs beneath me, my hand sliding to her hip to hold her steady as I remain inside of her, not wanting to pull her awake yet.

I know exactly what I am.

I know what I’m capable of and I know the lines I cross daily with her. But there are no more rules and no more pretending this can be segmented into sessions or professional distance. She’s seen all of me now and instead of recoiling in fear, she leaned in.

That earns her something.

I pull from her gently and thrust back in, enough for her eyes to reel beneath her lashes. My hips begin a lazy roll as I coax her from her sleep, her gasp lost as I drop my mouth down to her ear the moment her eyes fly wide.

“Don’t move,” I murmur. “Close your eyes.”

She shudders, biting her lip and the smile that tries to form there as she does as she’s told.

There’s power in it, pretending to be asleep as I fuck into her. My hand slides to her head, pressing her cheek into the mattress as I finally let the leash snap. I’ve never done gentle, and by the moans being given to the mattress Sadie doesn’t want it that way.

I groan as I come inside of her for the fourth time tonight. Her body going lax beneath me as I pull free and drop into the bed, my hand sliding to the small of her back where my fingers splay protectively. She doesn’t say a word to me and I listen as her breathing slowly evens out again, my eyes tracing the metal roof of her bus and the bolts that rust where they connect.

I imagine all the ways the world could try to take her from me; fear, guilt, well-meaning voices telling her to run or report me or save herself.

They won’t understand this if she tried to explain it.

And I can’t have that.

I wake up to a quiet morning.