Page 165 of Broken Blades

And when I kissed her again, dinner became the least important thing in the house.

The couch cushions groaned under our weight as I pressed her into them, my hands rough on her thighs. She gasped when I bit down on her bottom lip, just hard enough to make her arch against me. The lace of that damn lingerie scraped against my palms, and I wanted it gone—wanted everything gone between us.

Her fingers clawed at my shoulders, nails digging in through the fabric of my shirt. "Wyatt⁠—"

I cut her off with another kiss, deeper this time, my tongue claiming hers. She moaned into my mouth, her body already trembling under mine. I could feel her heartbeat through her skin, fast and wild, matching the pulse pounding in my ears.

I tore my mouth away just long enough to growl against her throat, "You drive me fucking crazy."

She laughed breathlessly, but the sound turned into a gasp when I yanked the lace aside and my teeth grazed her collarbone. Her back arched off the couch, pressing her chest against mine, and I took full advantage, my hand sliding up to palm her breast through the flimsy fabric. Her nipple hardened under my touch, and she whimpered, her hips lifting to meet mine.

"Please," she begged, her voice raw.

"Please, what?"

"Please… Daddy."

I didn’t make her wait.

I hooked my fingers into the lace at her hips and ripped it clean off her. The sound of fabric tearing only made her breath hitch harder. My mouth crashed back onto hers as I shoved her thighs apart, my fingers finding her already wet and ready for me.

She cried out when I thrust two fingers inside her, my thumb pressing hard against her clit. Her nails raked down my back, her legs locking around my wrist like she never wanted me to stop.

I didn’t.

I worked her until she was panting, her body tightening around my fingers, her breath coming in sharp, desperate gasps. "Wyatt, I⁠—"

"I know," I growled, my voice rough against her ear. "Give it to me."

And she did.

Her body shuddered beneath mine, her release crashing over her in waves. I didn’t give her time to recover. I shoved my pants down just enough, gripped her hip, and drove into her in one hard thrust.

She screamed my name, her nails digging into my skin like she needed something to hold onto. I gave her no mercy. I took her hard, each snap of my hips punishing, claiming, mine. The couch creaked beneath us, the frame groaning in protest, but I didn’t care. All that mattered was the way she clung to me, the way her body took everything I gave her, the way she whispered my name like a prayer.

I buried my face in her neck, my breath hot against her skin as I drove into her again and again, my control slipping with every thrust. She was everything—soft and strong, sweet and fierce, mine—and I wasn’t letting go. Not now. Not ever.

She came around me with a broken cry, her body clenching so tight I lost what little control I had left. My release hit me like a blindside check—hard, inevitable, stealing my breath as I buried myself deep and let go. Her nails dug into my shoulders, her legs locked around my waist, and I groaned against her throat, my hips stuttering through the last waves of it.

We stayed like that for a long moment—her trembling beneath me, me braced over her, both of us gasping like we’d just finished a shift change at double overtime. The couch cushions were half off the frame, her hair was a mess, and I could still feel her pulse racing under my lips where I’d kissed her collarbone raw.

I finally lifted my head just enough to look at her.

She was flushed, swollen-mouthed, and so damn beautiful it hurt. Her fingers traced lazy patterns on the back of my neck, her breathing slowly steadying. A small, satisfied smile played on her lips.

"Hi," she murmured.

I huffed a laugh, pressing my forehead to hers. "Hi."

She shifted slightly beneath me, and I hissed at the oversensitive friction. Her smile turned knowing. "Sore?"

"Worth it."

She laughed, the sound warm and real, and something in my chest tightened. This—her—was everything I never knew I wanted. The way she fit against me, the way she looked at me like I was something good, the way she stayed even when she knew exactly what I was.

I kissed her slowly, savoring the way she sighed into it. Her hands cupped my face, her thumbs brushing over my cheekbones like she was memorizing me.

"You okay?" I asked against her lips.