Page 24 of Relapse

He cuts himself off with another thrust, harder this time, and the counter digs into my hips while the metal of his piercing drags through me again in a way that completely fries whatever functioning brain cells I had left.

“Oh my god—”

“I tried to stay away,” he mutters rough against my skin, grip tightening almost possessively around my waist while his pace turns sharper, needier. “I fucking tried.”

The confession lands somewhere deep inside me, tangled together with the heat and the pressure and the way he keeps pulling me back onto him like he physically can’t get close enough.

And the worst part?

I believe him.

“Then stop trying,” I gasp, and I hate how raw my voice sounds. How honest.

His hand slides up from my waist to wrap around my throat—not choking, just holding, like he needs the connection. His other hand grips my hip, rings cold against my heated skin, and he fucks me with a rhythm that’s pure obsession.

“You drive me insane,” he growls, his forehead pressing against the back of my neck. “You know that? Insane. I couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t fucking breathe without thinking about you.”

“Good,” I manage, pushing back against him, matching his rhythm. “Then you know how I felt.”

His grip on my throat tightens just barely. “I’m never letting you go again.”

And there it is.

The thing we’ve been circling around for months.

The admission.

This isn’t just sex.

This is a relapse. An addiction.

A mutual annihilation that we keep crawling back to because nothing else feels this alive.

His thrusts lose rhythm behind me, turning rougher, needier, like he’s finally running on pure instinct instead of restraint. I can feel him shaking against my back now, breath uneven where it ghosts across my shoulder while one hand slides between my thighs.

“Come apart for me, little relapse,” he growls low against my skin. “Give me the fucking fix I’ve been craving.”

The words hit somewhere dangerously deep.

I suck in a sharp breath when my body tightens hard around him, the sudden clench pulling a wrecked sound straight out of his chest.

“That’s it,” he praises darkly when my thighs start trembling. “Feel how fucking perfect you are? Knew you’d still break for me.”

Heat coils tighter and tighter in my stomach until it physically hurts, my head falling forward while the counter digs into my hips hard enough to bruise.

“Dagger—”

“I know,” he mutters wreckedly. “I fucking know. Let go for me.”

That’s what does it.

The orgasm hits fast and violent, crashing through me hard enough that my knees nearly buckle again while a broken sound tears out of my throat. My nails scrape across the countertop uselessly while I clench around him, the drag of his piercing inside me making it almost too much all at once.

“Fuck,” he groans behind me, feeling me shake apart around him. “There she is.”

His grip tightens desperately against my waist as my orgasm keeps rippling through me, and the second I gasp his name, he loses it completely.

I feel him shudder hard against my back, head dropping against my shoulder while a wrecked groan tears out of him low and rough enough to send another pulse of heat through me.