My body responds to his claim, clenching around his cock, my nails raking down his back. “More,” I demand.
He hauls me away from the container and anchors his arm around my back, slamming inside me with hard, carnal thrusts that detonate my control. I muffle my moans against his neck, my teeth finding purchase in his skin, loving the way his pulse speeds against my tongue. The metallic trace of blood fills my mouth, and I’m not sure if it’s his or mine—if I broke his skin or bit my lip—but it sends me over the edge.
We’re like vampires sucking each other dry; liquid fire sears our blood as we bleed each other, draining our veins. The pain is the only answer to quench the need that pleasure can’t sate.
Grayson’s back flattens against a support beam, his thrusts coming wild and unrestrained. My hand goes to his neck as I search for that racing heartbeat, to get as close to him as possible. Hi
s eyes flare. “Do it,” he challenges.
I wrap my fingers tighter, and he sinks to the floor, settling me atop him. I grind and fuck him with abandon as his pulse quickens against my palm.
Power.
The thrill of taking a life—of owning it—feeling it literally slip through your fingers…
His growl vibrates through my whole body as his cock hardens and pulsates along my walls. I release his throat, freeing his orgasm and mine. I ride the blissful wave of ecstasy as I rock into him.
His heavy breaths fan my face, his features creased in the most beautiful display of agony and pleasure. We’re hedonists—and we’re unashamed.
He’s braced against the beam and cold, hard floor like he’s immune to the elements—like he’s used to them. Grayson spent a year in prison, but it’s more…goes deeper than that.
I touch him. Starting at his fingers, the very tips of his nails. I touch his rough hands, the contrast of smooth and abraded scars, the tattoos covering his arms. I feel the muscles beneath his flesh, still contracting as his breathing evens out.
My hands slip along his shoulders and onto his chest, mapping the leanly defined muscles there, the scars carved so deep. I work my way over his body, and he lets me, a wonder in his gaze that spears me.
“Has anyone ever touched you this intimately?” I ask.
His neck muscles tighten with a hard swallow, and I feel the intensity of it under my palm as I roam up his neck. “Never,” he says, his voice thick.
“I want to know every part of your body,” I say, my fingers coming to rest below his mouth. I sweep my finger across his bottom lip, loving the softness, the hunger that surges within me to kiss him.
I move in slowly, capturing his mouth and tasting him lovingly, as if we’re sharing a secret—sharing an insight into each other no one else can access.
As I pull back, I feel the press of his strong hand over my chest, my heart. “It’s beating faster than mine,” he acknowledges. “Does that mean you’re in love with me?”
“Do you need the declaration?”
“Yes,” he says honestly.
“I’m in love with you, Grayson. I’m not incapable of love…I’ve just never been inspired before now. And I don’t want to be separated from you again.”
He ponders my answer for a moment, never taking his hand away. Then: “Do you still question whether I’m capable of loving you?”
I glance at the massacre we created together, and he forces my face back to him. So he can see the answer in my eyes. I take his hand in mine, removing his grip from my jaw. Our hands are still smeared with traces of blood.
“No,” I say, barely above a whisper.
His gaze narrows in question. “But there’s some doubt.”
“Only because of my insight, Grayson. Because of what the mind dictates. But I believe you love me. In your own way. That you will try to protect me.”
“Am I capable of hurting you just the same?”
I can’t hesitate here. “Yes.”
With a deep inhale, he accepts this. We’re not like any other couples, arguing to make a point. Some things have to be accepted, especially if we’re unable to change the outcome.
He catches me studying his eyes and, delicately, he removes the lenses, revealing the vibrant blue of his irises. My chest tightens.