Havoc (Storm MC 7)

&n

bsp; Bliss.

Havoc’s kiss tore a whimper from my lips as he took what he needed. His kiss was almost violent, as if he’d wrapped all his fury and frustration into it. I poured all my own confusion and hurt into the kiss, and we matched each other’s demand for more.

His lips bruised mine.

My nails clawed at his body.

His powerful frame threatened to crush me.

My legs squeezed his torso.

We kissed and we clung and we raged.

My body begged him to take the pain from my soul.

His body pleaded for me to let him dominate.

Breathless.

Passion.

Anger.

Need.

We gave each other everything we had to give.

And we took everything we could.

From a kiss.

A kiss that broke down our walls.

And crashed through our denials.

A kiss that told me this was so much more than sex.

Fuck.

Havoc knifed up.

Staring down at me through ravaged eyes, he rasped, “Fuck.”

He feels it too.

He knelt on the bed between my legs just staring at me, his eyes wild and breathing ragged.

I pushed up so I was sitting in front of him with my legs spread wide. Taking hold of his face, I begged, “Don’t stop now. I need you to fuck me.”

His gaze traced my face for the longest time while he slowed his breathing down. When he finally found my eyes again, he said, “What the fuck are we doing, Carla?”

I knew exactly what he was asking, but I didn’t want to acknowledge it. Not yet. I kept holding onto his face. “That’s not a question for tonight.” My words were an answer and they were also a plea.

Don’t think about this now.

Just think about fucking me.