Perfect Rage (Unyielding 3)

“Legs,” he ordered, one hand grabbed my thigh and hitched it around his waist.

I bent my other one and he sank deeper.

His breathing was harsh and ragged as his cock throbbed inside me. “Look at me.”

I briefly closed my eyes before meeting his cool blue eyes.

His brows flicked low and he shook his head then muttered, “What the fuck?”

I had no idea what was wrong, but there was confusion on his face as his gaze shifted from my eyes to my nose then to my lips.

His cock jerked inside me and his eyes darted back to mine.

It wasn’t harsh. It was gentle as his eyes searched mine.

Hope. Fear. Pain. Desire.

It was all those things crushed together and pinballing around in my head. I was afraid to say anything. Afraid to move. Did he remember? Why was he staring at me like that? God, please say something.

He squeezed his eyes shut and a low groan escaped. His fingers holding my hip flinched and then he kissed me again.

It was harsh and rough, but there was something more. There was desperation. There was passion. There was a hint of Connor and I grabbed hold of that and relaxed beneath him.

Then I let go of the sheets and found myself holding him. Fingers weaving through his unruly hair. The other hand slipping beneath his shirt and stroking up his back.

I tensed when my fingers hit the raised lines. The scars. I knew what they were from and I knew they hadn’t been there before.

“Oh, Connor,” I murmured against his mouth. “I’m so sorry.”

He broke our kiss and stared down at me, eyes hard. “Shut up.”

But I ignored his harsh words and closed my eyes, clinging to the slice of Connor I’d found. “Stop telling me to shut up and fuck me.”

He stilled for a second. Then I heard something completely unexpected. He chuckled and my eyes flew open at the familiar sound. Amusement sparked in his eyes as he stared down at me.

My heart fought the quicksand, beating fast to reach the surface.

Connor.

As fast as it came, it ended as he sat up, grabbed both my wrists and pressed them on the mattress above my head.

Then he fucked me.

Slow. Hard.

Hovering over me. Hips rotating and hitting my clit as he did it.

I closed my eyes, ignoring the pain in my wrists as he put all his weight on them while he continued to thrust.

“Fuck.” He pumped harder.

In and out. The loud slap of our bodies over and over again.

The intense building in my belly was there, but it wasn’t enough.

Connor slowed and I opened my eyes. “Touch yourself,” he ordered. He let go of one of my wrists.

I lowered my arm and slid my palm between us. He lifted slightly, his eyes following my hand.

But I didn’t touch my clit. I reached for his balls. He sucked in his breath as I cupped them, rolling them in my palm.

“Jesus,” he growled.

He closed his eyes, head tilting back, neck muscles strained. His cock jerked inside me and I knew he wasn’t going to last much longer.

I let him go then ran my fingers through my wetness before I circled my clit. The second I touched myself, my thighs clamped harder around him. “Oh, God,” I breathed.

I didn’t know if he was looking at me or my hand as I had my eyes closed while I played with myself. The building desire heated my core and I was going to burst into a zillion sparks.

“Oh, God, Connor. Oh, God.” I stopped breathing.

He pulled almost all the way out then thrust hard inside me again. Once. Twice. On the third time, I fell. The zillion sparks exploded and it was a free fall into a pool of heated bliss.

Connor kept thrusting and my orgasm went on and on until he groaned a low agonizing sound as he came, too.

He collapsed on top of me, mouth against the side of my neck. I couldn’t help it as I gently stroked his hair then kissed his shoulder. “I missed you,” I whispered.

I’d said it more to myself than to him, but he must have heard me because he stiffened.

Shit.

Suddenly, he was off the bed with his back to me, but I heard the rubber of the condom and his zipper.

He turned. That was when my fear became real. Well, it was real before but I could handle it. This was altogether something different.

I scooted back on my hands, using my feet to push until I fell off the other side of the bed.

His face was the definition of fury. Unadulterated fury. Brows low. Eyes narrowed and hard. Jaw clenched and temples throbbing.

He strode to me, grabbed my arm and yanked me to my feet.

“What are you doing to me? Who the fuck are you?” His voice was a low graveled sound as he forced out each word.