Battle Hearts (Storm MC Reloaded 3)

Fuck, she hasn’t said anything like that to me for weeks. “Did you eat dinner?”

Reaching up to bring her hand to my face, she says, “Always checking up on me.” As the words leave her mouth, she slides her body over mine and straddles me before giving me those lips of hers I would do anything for.

Her kiss is unhurried, just like she is right now. She takes her time with my lips, with my tongue, with my body. Her hands start out on my face and slowly move down my neck to my chest. Lifting her mouth from mine, she says, “Yes, I ate some dinner. I also ate some chocolate I bought yesterday. It was heaven. I may have left you some. I feel like we need some sugar in our life after starving ourselves of it for months.”

My hands go to her ass as I think of all the things we’ve been starved of, the fucking least of which is sugar. “Give me your lips again, angel.”

Her eyes search mine, her anguish still blazing from them. “Are you okay, baby?” She touches the bruises on my face.

I take hold of her hand. “Don’t worry about me. I can handle a few bruises.”

She looks at my knuckles that are also bruised and swollen. “This is more than a few bruises, Winter.” Moving down my body, she presses a kiss to the knife wound that’s healed well. “It kills me to see you come home hurt.”

I move swiftly, sitting and repositioning her in my lap, her legs wrapped around my body. Taking hold of her face, I kiss her, this time deeper, and with all the emotions surging through me. I’m still wound up after the events of the night; the darkness consuming me earlier still breathes inside me. It mixes with the love and need I have for Birdie, causing me to bruise her lips with raw desire.

“Fuck,” I rasp when I tear my mouth from hers. “I fucking need you.” I move my hands to her breasts, lifting the shirt of mine she’s wearing so I can take her nipple between my lips.

Her fingers grip my hair. “I need you, too.” Her voice is ragged with that need, coiling my desire tighter inside me.

I have her on her back faster than either of us can keep up with, and our clothes stripped from our bodies just as fast.

Christ, I’ve missed being with her like this. I’d walk through fire for this woman; I’d go as long as I had to without her if that’s what she needed from me, but I’d be counting down every fucking second until she gave me one more taste.

I take my time with her, explor

ing every inch of her skin with my hands and mouth. When I get to her pussy, she arches her back and moans. When I suck her clit into my mouth, she reaches for my hair again. When I push my tongue inside her, she grips my face at the same time that she sits up and pulls my mouth to hers.

Her eyes are wild, her breaths are coming fast as she begs, “Fuck me. I can’t wait another second for you to be inside me.”

Birdie needing me as much as I need her reaches deep in my gut. It makes me want to fuck her hard and fast. On her hands and knees. Slamming myself into her. Taking everything from her and giving everything to her I haven’t been able to in weeks. But what I really need right now, above any of that, is to reconnect us. I need my eyes on hers while I fuck her.

Taking her back down to the bed, I spread her legs and kiss her. “I love you,” I say as I thrust inside her.

Fuck. Me.

I pull out and slam inside again.

“Oh God,” Birdie cries out, her eyes closing.

I thrust again. “Open your eyes, baby.” When she doesn’t, I growl, “Birdie, your eyes.”

She does as I say, and I fuck her while our eyes remained locked together.

We come together, Birdie first, me following straight after.

Her fingers tangle in my hair when I drop my head to her shoulder and get my shit together. I don’t know what the fuck it is, but my mind is racing with a million thoughts and feelings. A foreign fucking experience to me after sex.

“I love you,” she says softly.

I lift my head and find her eyes again. We watch each other silently for a few moments before I roll onto my back.

She rolls to face me. “What are you thinking?”

I look at her. “That IVF is a dark fucking road to travel.”

Her hand slips into mine. “We made it, though.”

Yeah, we made it through the first cycle, but at what cost? And how many cycles can a relationship sustain before the cracks turn into gaping holes? Because I’m not blind here; I can see and feel the tiny cracks this first cycle inflicted on us. They scare the fuck out of me.