Page 82 of Branded Betrayal

“So do it,” she breathes, her eyes half hooded, desire glimmering in the depths. “I’m yours, Blaze. I always will be.”

She speaks the words as if under a trance, and maybe if she wasn’t so lust-fogged, she might think the better of them. But they’re out there now, and fuck, they make me harder than steel.

I lift her into my arms, one arm snaked around her, the other pressed tight against her ass. Once we’re at the top of the steps, I lower her to the floor, not breaking the kiss. We slam into walls in the dark hallway, our mouths unable and unwilling to part. Our tongues tangle and coil with heat and need as we strip each other bare.

The air is thick with the scent of sex and sweat and bad decisions.

Bad for her. Bad for me.

I squelch the thought, my body taking over for my mind, releasing me from all the silent protests.

Her breathless whisper is like a soothing balm.

“Fuck me, Blaze. Right here. Right now.”

I back her against the wall, a sharp hiss of breath escaping her lips. Then I grab one of her legs and lay it on my hip. My cock bobs at her slit before I drive into her, slick walls coating me in her warmth and need. Her choked cries pierce the silence as I bury myself inside her, balls deep.

Her nails lance my back, slicing into my flesh as my thrusts get harder and faster. A carnal fog consumes me, and suddenly, we’re back at Lover’s Bluff, fucking like two love- and lust-crazed teenagers without a care in the world outside of our private bubble.

I want so badly to be back in that bubble with her. And I’d do anything to keep it from popping.

“That sweet pussy is dripping for me. You didn’t come yet, did you, baby girl?” I mutter against her ear before capturing it between my teeth. “Because I didn’t say you were allowed to come yet.”

“No,” she rasps. “But I need to. Please, Blaze.”

“Please what?”

“Please make me come.”

I release her leg and back her into the bedroom, still inside of her. We collapse onto the bed, our bodies rocking against each other, skin pebbled with sweat. Her moans get louder and more insistent.

“Come now, baby,” I say. I drive deep and pull out slowly, tormentingly, agonizingly, to keep her writhing beneath me. “Lose yourself all over me.”

She screams. Her juices flow over me, drowning me in all she has to give. And I can’t hold back for another second. My brain short-circuits, and my body stills, the orgasm rumbling hard in my core right before I explode inside of her.

Seconds pass, our short, sharp breaths the only sounds in the otherwise still house. I collapse on the bed next to her, then fling an arm over my face.

“Holy fuck,” I say, barely able to hear my own words over the sound of my thundering heartbeat.

Savvie rolls into me, nestling into the crook of my arm, the spot she always loved.

“I guess it was good I didn’t send you away, hmm?” she asks.

I drop my arm around her shoulder. “I wouldn’t have left.”

Raising herself up on one elbow, she smirks at me. “Oh, so you’d have stayed anyway? Even if I told you I didn’t want you?”

I look at her. “I’d have known you were lying. That’s what we do, right? Call each other out on our bullshit?”

“Yeah.” She traces over the black ink covering my pec. “That’s what we do. Hey, when did you get this? It looks a little bit . . . sadistic, with all the barbs.”

I glance down at the image of the dove flying above an olive branch wrapped in barbed wire. “I got it overseas. It’s for my mom.”

Savannah’s brows furrow. “And the barbed wire means what, exactly?”

My eyes drop back to the tattoo. “All the danger she was surrounded by before she died. Things she didn’t know or realize. She’s the dove, and she’s flying because in death, she escaped it all.”

Savannah is quiet for a long minute. I can tell just by looking at her that she’s processing everything I just said. It’s more than anyone else in my life knows . . . except for my father. Not even Nash knows the full extent to which my dad jeopardized us all.