Convict (Sin City Salvation 2)

I sounded like a child, and I felt pathetic for allowing my emotions to run wild again. I was humiliated and vulnerable, and there wasn’t a single thing I could do about it.

“Come here.” Huck dragged me across the table where he had me pinned. He cupped the back of my head and pressed it against his chest before he wrapped his arms around me. His heart echoed against my cheek, the steady rhythm lulling me into a motionless haze as adrenaline seeped from my system.

The episodes always drained me, depriving me of energy for anything else until I recovered. But this time was different. This time, I was wrapped up in Huck. His scent, his warmth, and his strength enveloped me in a sense of security I’d never allowed myself to feel. We were intimately close, my ass planted on the table with my legs spread wide as his hips rested against my stomach. Worst of all, I’d wrapped my arms around his sturdy frame like he was my salvation. But I didn’t let go. I didn’t want to. And neither did he.

He dragged his nose through my hair, breathing me in. And then he pressed his lips against the shell of my ear, repeating the process all over again as he kissed his way down my jaw. When he finally got to my lips, I was hungry and wet for him. Dinner was scattered on the floor around us, long forgotten as his fingers grazed the hem of the silk robe against my thigh. He pulled it aside, then repeated the action on the other leg. Leaning back, he studied my face before his eyes drifted to the part of me he’d exposed. I was open for him. Vulnerable to him. He could see everything, and I didn’t try to hide it. This was the broken, filthy part of me he needed to see. It was now or never. He could take it or leave it.

His attention drifted up while he tugged at the loose fabric covering my breasts. When he finished, all that remained was the rope around my waist and the fabric pooling at my sides. I held my breath as I waited to see what he would do next. After everything that had just happened, more than anything, I wanted him to want me, yet I was terrified he couldn’t. It didn’t make sense, but it was undeniable. He’d seen me at my worst, and I wanted him to tell me it was okay. I wanted him to tell me it didn’t matter how fucked up I was, he wanted me anyway.

Just like with everything else, Huck did it in his own way. He reached for the zipper on his jeans, slowly dragging it down while his eyes locked onto mine. They were filled with dark promises and threats that reflected in his voice.

“Tell me to stop, Birdie. If you don’t, I’ll never let you go.”

“Don’t stop.” I forced the words from my raw throat. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

A low, feral growl rumbled from his chest as he tugged his briefs down. And there it was, his masculinity on full display. His cock hung heavy and thick between his thighs, a tiny drop of liquid glistening from the tip. He was swollen for me, and I knew the sheer size of him would hurt, but I wanted him inside me. I wanted it so much my body physically ached for it.

He gripped my thighs and yanked me forward as his fingers came to rest on my jaw, holding me in place while he assaulted me with his lips. He kissed me like he couldn’t stop, and I recognized that because I felt the same way. There was no sweet talk. No more asking permission. His dick nudged against me, smearing his pre-come into my pussy. My fingers curled into his hair, tugging as he spread me wider, opening me up to his hips.

The dangerous game we were playing resonated somewhere in my mind when he started to push inside me, raw. There was nothing between us. It was reckless, and it was bliss. The fat head of his cock stretched me to the point of pain, and still, I chanted for more. I wasn’t satisfied until he buried himself deep with a sound so full of agony it would forever be burned into my mind.

“Fuck me, Birdie,” he rasped. “You’re my goddamn heaven.”

His hands came to rest under my ass, squeezing me as he pulled back and thrust forward again. I looked up at him in fascination as his eyes rolled back and his mouth grew slack. He was drugged, high on me, and it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

In and out, he thrust, over and over again. He fucked me like a beast, a slave to his own demon at that moment. His hands skated over my body in worship, touching and admiring every curve and every soft patch of skin he found. One blissful sensation melted into another as he sucked my nipples into his mouth. Tugged on my hair. Branded my skin with his teeth and his lips. I held onto him for dear life, too lost in the sensations exploding in my body like fireworks. It hurt, and it healed me. I’d never felt such pain and pleasure together, and I couldn’t string together a logical thought. I just kept begging him for more. More. More. More.