Slowly at first, then faster, until I’m thrusting into her, my hips like pistons, making her take every inch of me. And she does. Watching my cock spear into her is almost too much. I’m not ready to come yet, but I can feel it building. Wanting her to orgasm once more, I order, “Touch yourself. Make yourself come while I fuck this perfect ass.”
She does as I say, reaching down to play with her clit. She works it faster while I continue fucking her like it’s my only chance to. When she stiffens, I let go, holding on to her hips as waves of pleasure crash over me. Dutch collapses over the back of the sofa, breathing heavily as I shout her name, pumping twice more into her as I release into her ass.
Slipping out of her, I walk around to the back of the sofa and tilt her head up. Her hair is damp, plastered to the sides of her neck, but her face is a picture of bliss. I press a kiss to her forehead, then walk into the bathroom, letting her catch her breath as I fill up the Jacuzzi.
When it’s ready, I go back out for her, only to find her half-asleep on the sofa. Chuckling under my breath, I scoop her up and carry her into the bathroom, settling her in the tub as I climb in after her. Pulling her between my legs, I wrap my arms around her and let her rest against my chest.
The warm water and bubbles swirl around us, and having her in my arms again brings back the old feelings I tried so hard to discard. Her head rests over my heart, which now beats just for her.
Chapter 38
Dutch
Liftingmyarmsabovemy head, I stretch, delighting in the delicious soreness that permeates my entire body. The blankets are the perfect temperature; cool on top and toasty underneath, so I grab my pillow and burrow under them, hoping for another hour of sleep.
A deep husky chuckle puts paid to that plan when Cruz hauls me against him, tossing my pillow off the bed. Puffing my hair out of my face, I glare at him. It’s too early to be this cheerful. “Good morning.” He presses a kiss to my forehead then tucks me into his side, wrapping his arms and legs around me so I can’t move.
I take just a brief moment to appreciate that he is, in fact, still here. “Morning. Uh, Cruz, what are you doing?”
“Snuggling.”
This is a man that hacks people apart with swords.
“I didn’t realize you were the snuggling type.”
“I’m not. I generally don’t like being touched. Everything is different with you.”
“Oh.” I ponder that for a moment and let the warmth of his words spread through me. He lets his punishing grip loosen when I wiggle against him, and I turn to face him. His eyes lock with mine and I find I can’t look away. They are a mix of different shades of brown, and the gold flecks are more prominent this morning. I could get lost in them, drowning in their depths, losing myself as he consumes me.
His hand traces over the tattoo on my back. “Does this hold significance?”
I just barely nod. Most of my back is covered with a phoenix, its wings on fire, blood dripping from the feathers.
“Will you tell me?”
No one has bothered asking me before, no one cared enough for the answer. “It represents the future me,” I whisper, and his eyes narrow at my words.
“What do you mean?”
Glancing down at his chest, I explain, “I’m no longer who I once was, and when I bury my father, I will no longer be who I am now. The phoenix is who I will become once my mother is avenged and I’ve rid the earth of the evil that is my father.” Like a coward, I keep my eyes downcast, afraid Cruz's might shine with pity.
I’m not good with this vulnerability shit.
He pulls me closer to him, and I nuzzle into his neck as his arms come around me, then freeze at his words. “I look forward to meeting her.”
There’s some fucking weird clear shit making my vision blurry.
We spend the next several hours in bed, Cruz making good on his promise to make me scream his name over and over.
I finally call time out when our stomachs begin to protest loudly over the lack of food. Slipping on one of Cruz’s t-shirts to cover myself, I wander out to the kitchen to find his head in the fridge, gathering the makings for sandwiches. Pulling myself up on the island, while I sit, legs swinging, my eyes firmly locked on his ass. His only adornment is a pair of black boxers, and I trail my gaze up the broad expanse of his back, then down the tribal tattoos littering his arm. It should be illegal to look like him.
We pile our sandwiches high, chatting inanely as we eat. I just want a day. A day I don’t have to think about the others, or my father, or revenge plots. I just want to hide from the world, just me and Cruz, in our little bubble, for just a little while.
So we do.
We talk, laugh, and tease. We watch movies, make out like teenagers, and chase each other through the apartment while sliding on the hardwood floors in our socks. We dance to eighties music, Cruz plays his guitar for me, and we fuck on every level surface in the apartment.
And with each passing second, I find myself falling harder and deeper than I ever could have dreamed was possible.
