Shatter (Unbreakable Bonds 2)

Once fully in, he clamped his fingers hard on Jude’s hip, trying to hold him still long enough for him to get control of his body. He managed to get the arm under Jude’s neck to where he could thread his fingers into that thick, black, unruly-as-hell hair and pull Jude’s head back to him. He bit down on his ear and thrust hard into his body.

“Agh!” Jude’s yell told him he felt all the things Snow did when Jude entered his body. That first hit of pain laced with that dark, dark pleasure that felt like nothing else in this world. He held still, let Jude adjust to his body and when the other man started to pant harder and push back against him, Snow unleashed himself on Jude.

He clamped down on his hip, his head. He latched his mouth onto the side of Jude’s neck and he fucked him.

Jude shouted and moaned. Again and again, his sounds pure, feral pleasure.

“Yes,” Snow hissed, biting into that thick muscle between his neck and shoulder. “Move with me.”

Jude did. He began rocking into a rhythm that meshed with Snow’s and everything coalesced into nothing more than this moment. The hot, sleek muscles against him. The clench of Jude’s body around his cock. The way he reached back to hold onto Snow like he never wanted him to leave. These feelings and emotions swamped him. Years of hidden hopes and dreams…and that joy…that devastating and…so very, very new joy…came and it took Snow out of himself long enough to feel truly connected to someone else for the first time in his life.

Connected to Jude.

“I want more with you,” he said on a gasp as he rocked deeper into this man who was changing the very fabric of his being. He let go of Jude’s hip and stroked his shoulder, his chest, smoothing his palm over hot, sweat-covered skin. He wrapped his fingers around Jude’s pulsing dick and stroked slowly, up and down, marveling over how much he wanted from this man. And how much he wanted to give him. “I want it all.”

Jude stopped rocking his body, not moving even though his chest still pressed in and out with his harsh breaths. He twisted to look over his shoulder at Snow behind him, his eyes nearly black in the low morning light coming through the window. As that inky gaze slowly probed Snow’s expression, a smile began to stretch his mouth. He pulled his body off Snow’s, rolled over to face him, and framed his face in his hands. He kept staring and from the warmth that filled his expression, he liked what he was seeing.

“You mean it, General,” he murmured. “You really do.”

Snow nodded, turning to kiss Jude’s palm before looking back at him. “I really do.”

Dominant Manhandling Jude abruptly returned and Snow found himself being hugged and kissed and pretty much mauled, before the man tugged him back on top. “Put my legs over your arms and come back inside, General.”

“Snow,” he growled against Jude’s lips. “Quit calling me that.”

“Never,” Jude whispered back. “Get back in me. Now.” He smiled. “Stratige mou.”

Their grins mashed together, Snow muttering, “Dominant fucker,” even as he complied, sliding back into Jude’s heat, knowing that he, for the first time in his life, was making love.Chapter 23Rowe stared at the door in front of him, willing the queasiness in his stomach to settle. A cold sweat broke out across his skin under the layers of warm clothes he’d pulled on two days ago for the long drive from Colorado. Going through this door meant that he was back. No more running. No more hiding from the gaping abyss that was tomorrow. It was moving forward…without her.

“She doesn’t want you wasting your life,” he mumbled to himself with a little shake of his head. Dropping his gaze to the keys in his hand, Rowe used his thumb to sift through the scratched and dulled pieces of metal until he came to the right one.

It was time. His family needed him.

Sliding the key into the lock, Rowe paused at the sound of Ian’s raised voice. He didn’t sound distraught, just adamant. What day was it? Three weeks had passed since he’d left. Was it Wednesday? Had he arrived in time for breakfast? Just the thought of Ian’s cooking and playful smirk almost brought a smile to his lips. Almost. He wasn’t sure he still carried the ability.

Quietly, Rowe unlocked the door and stepped into Lucas’s penthouse. The sky beyond the wall of windows was slate gray as another late winter storm promised to dump a mix of rain and snow on the city. Inside, the air remained bright and light and achingly familiar. This was home.

When he shut the door, three heads popped up. Two unfamiliar men stood in Lucas’s kitchen wearing aprons and looking extremely uncomfortable while Ian was in a wheelchair just next the island, giving orders. The young man’s eyes instantly welled with tears when they latched onto Rowe and his bottom lip trembled so badly that he bit it. Ian shifted in his wheelchair, trying to turn his body and move closer to Rowe, whose feet seemed to be rooted to the hardwood floor, but the cast that ran up Ian’s right thigh kept him relatively immobile.