Page 78 of Intrepid

“Oh, God, Ty!”

My lips parted with the orgasm building low in my belly.

Faster and faster. Harder and harder. The tingles zipped along my spine, and shot up across my back, out to my limbs, until they exploded at the back of my head. I cried out as he continued his relentless assault, seeking out his own climax as his hips jackhammered into me.

The pounding from behind came to an abrupt halt and he withdrew, but the skin-smacking sound told me he kept the momentum going on his own. I twisted to see the spent condom lying on the floor beside the bed, while he stood there, pumping his shaft.

He groaned and grunted, until hot spurts of seed hit my skin, pooling in the small of my back. Leaning over my hip until his forehead pressed against my neck, he smoothed his hand over the fluids, spreading his release all over me. “Every minute of this is a piece of my destruction.” His ragged voice sent a shiver down my spine. “You’re going to destroy me, angel.”

Without warning, his arms wrapped beneath me, and he flipped me up into his arms and carried me across the room. After kicking the bathroom door wider, he flicked on the lights to a small bathroom—simple, but clean—with a boxy shower stall, beside which he set me down. He cranked on the water, letting the steam roll over the top of it, and stepped inside, pulling me in with him. Once again, he lifted me, as if he couldn’t bear the thought of not having me in his arms for even one second, and held me with my back to the warm sprays, washing away his release there. Face resting in the crook of my neck, he breathed slow and easy, his fingers nearly bruising me as he tightened his grip.

“Tell me you hate me. Tell me what a bastard I am for using you this way.”

I wrapped my arms around him tighter, pressing my cheek to his, my mouth at his ear. “I don’t hate you.”

He let out a harsh breath and lifted his head, his eyes flaming and intense, deep pools of violence drawing me in. “Well, I hate you, Sera. I fucking hate you for these things you do to me. I hate that I want you again, after I’ve already had a taste. But what I fucking hate most is that I’ll want you tomorrow, too.”

I opened my mouth to volley another argument, but he pressed his lips to mine in a wet, reverent kiss.

My body slid down his, my bones soft and weak, and I held his biceps for balance. “Turn around, Ty. I want to wash you,” I whispered against his lips.

His tongue flicked out, stealing one more kiss, before he did as I asked.

The moment he turned his back to me, what little air I’d gathered after his kiss banished from my lungs. Across his skin were the marks of what appeared to be some horrific form of abuse. I dragged my hand over his ruined skin, focusing on the vicious textures beneath my fingers. Wrapping my arms around him, I kissed each one, taking in the flinch of his back every time I pressed my lips to his scars.

Once I’d covered them all, I lay my head against his back and closed my eyes.

25

Sera

The sound of music reached my ears, and I opened my eyes to the dark room, in which the heady scent of sex clung to the air, in spite of the slightly cracked window. My body felt bruised and beaten, since Ty had taken me again in the shower. Not as angry as the first time, but the weakness of before had left me struggling to stand.

I lifted my head and found him sprawled in the chair across the room from me, plucking the strings of his black guitar, his eyes on me. Sex-tousled hair lay in a mess atop is head, the sight of him too damn tempting to leave alone.

Wrapping the sheet around my body, I crawled across his bed and pushed to my feet, watching him watch me as I crossed the room. The exhaustion in my muscles told me I’d only gotten maybe two hours of sleep, which meant it must’ve been around three in the morning.

As I approached him, he set down the guitar, and his naked body welcomed me.

“Don’t you ever sleep?” I asked, sliding onto his lap.

His arms enveloped me, drawing me against him, and he shook his head. “My dad used to tell me, there’s plenty of time to sleep when you die.” Whiskey clung to his breath, and I glanced to the side of the chair, where the fifth sat on the floor.

“You’ve been drinking?”

“’S’what happens when I’m pissed.”

Smiling, I traced my thumb across his lips, and he kissed the pad of it. “What are you pissed about?”

“That it’s apparently illegal, and considered kidnapping, to tie you to my bed and refuse to let you leave.”

“There’s nothing to tie me to, anyway. It’s just a mattress.”

“I’ma welder,” he slurred. “I can weld some shit to the wall and chain you there.”

“Then you’d have to take care of me. Feed me. Shower me. Just like a pet.”

“Yeah.” He buried his face in my neck, breathing deep as though smelling me, and his arms wrapped tighter, pulling me closer into his body. “Fuck you and worship you everyday? Sounds like a good gig.”