If I move any closer, I’ll sit on his chest.
Taking my hands, he guides me onto my knees. His voice sounds raw. Honest. “I want you to sit on my face. That’s my fantasy.”
When he gently tugs on my hands, I can’t deny him. I can’t deny myself. I want him. I always have. I spread my thighs over his cheeks, letting him arrange me until he’s satisfied. Watching my face with cunning attention, he goes to work with his mouth, using his lips, tongue, and teeth, devouring me as if I’ve always been his treat.
If I thought spanking was hot, this is a hundred times hotter. And just when everything inside me pulls tight, he slaps my ass.
I break with a cry, coming so hard I see blue and red fireworks. I’m still riding that high when he locks his hands around my waist and lifts me onto his cock. I’m slick and still sensitive. He slides in deep, waking up neglected nerve endings while manipulating my movement with his hands on my hips as he glides me over his length.
He grunts, letting go of my hip to grab a handful of my breast. “Fuck.”
His fingers close around the curve, finding purchase as he changes his angle to thrust up while increasing his pace.
“Fuck, Violet,” he says, gritting his teeth.
And then the mask he’s perfected falls away as he comes, showing me with brutal honesty his weakness—me.
The knowledge pierces deep. The sight of it leaves me shaking. He’s given me power, but he’s also showed me why he’ll never let me go. When I move to get off him, he stops me.
“Let me stay inside you,” he says, pulling me onto his chest. Stroking my hair, he continues, “Just for a little while.”
I keep perfectly still, letting him pet me as the terrifying beauty of his honesty settles inside me. Fighting it won’t help. Once again, he’s been right. Like he promised, if I accept my fate, I’ll make the situation considerably easier for myself.
“Cold?” he asks, rubbing a palm over my back.
I push onto my arms, my hair falling in a curtain around our faces. “You must be.”
“Shower with me,” he says. “Then I’ll fix dinner.”
I was planning on cooking, but I nod.
He sits up, bringing me with him, and plants a tender kiss on my lips. “If you let me, Violet Hart, I could love you deeply.”
He’s asking me to let him in. Too much. Too soon. He’s only just asked for my honesty. Telling him the truth about Elliot was a giant step for me. I’m not ready to expose myself fully and to let down all my defenses.
“We’re the same, you and I,” he says, brushing a strand of hair from my face.
“Are we?”
“Why do you think neither of us have friends? We can’t take the risk of letting anyone get close to us.” Despite his compassionate expression and his soft voice, his next words sound like a verdict. “Stop fighting me. You know as well as I do it’s not going to help. You and I, my darling, only have each other.”