The Man Who Has No Love (Soulless 3)

My head tilted back, and my fingers loosened on his hair, letting him kiss my neck, bite at my collarbone, suck my skin until he left a bruise. He breathed into my ear as he fisted my hair, knowing I liked to hear his desirous pants.

I was in my pencil skirt because I hadn’t changed since I got off work.

He unzipped the back and let it come loose around to my feet, my blouse still covering my chest. He removed my panties, pushing them down far enough so gravity could do the rest. His sweatpants came next, falling to his feet along with his boxers.

Oh man, I’d missed that cock.

He hiked my leg up again and kept me pinned to the kitchen counter. My heels gave me the height I needed for him to squat down, shove him inside me, and then rise to his full height again, his cock fitting inside me just right.

“Oh my fucking god…” I breathed against his mouth as I appreciated his thickness, that length, that large crown that always hurt on its way inside. I clung to him and breathed, getting used to him again because I hadn’t taken him so long. I’d been tight and dry without him. Now, he needed to stretch me out, make me looser, make me mold to him once more.

He’d barely thrust inside me before he came, groaning against my mouth, his eyes on mine.

I grabbed his hip and pulled him as deep as he could go, loving the heaviness of his seed, loving the fact that he couldn’t last more than a few seconds because it’d been so long since he’d had anyone…because I was the last.

He stilled inside me, breathing hard, processing the climax that had taken him by surprise. His hand slid into my hair again, and he kissed me, his semihard dick reaching full mast once again in a few minutes. Then he was harder than he had been before, rock-hard, like he hadn’t just come minutes ago.

I didn’t care that he’d come too quickly. It was hot, seeing evidence of his celibacy.

He started to thrust again, giving it to me good and hard, his eyes locked on to mine.

It was so good that it didn’t take me long to explode, screaming in his face while my nails sliced the skin at the back of his neck. “Yes…babe.”

We ended up in the bedroom, our clothes breadcrumbs from the kitchen and down the hallway. The lights of the condo were off, the Manhattan lights bright, and we lay together on his king-sized bed.

The bed I used to sleep in every night.

Our reunion in the kitchen was a physical release for us both, a burst of emotional desire that made us screw like rabbits in spring. He couldn’t last long because it’d been a lifetime since he’d had me.

But when we made it to the bedroom, it was nice and slow, his heavy body on top of mine, his kisses thorough and unhurried, his deep breath shaky. His hand fisted my hair, his eyes were locked on mine, and he moaned as he enjoyed me, as he gave me all of him for the first time in months.

My hands cupped his face, and I kissed him, my knees hugging his narrow hips, feeling him thrust inside me over and over. When he took me back, it was so emotional that I felt like he’d left me all over again. I knew I loved him when I lost him, but I really knew it when I got him back. There was no one else in this world for me, no one besides Deacon Hamilton.

He kissed me as he finished, his cock throbbing inside me with another deposit.

My thighs squeezed him because it felt so good to do this again, to feel this physical connection, this powerful love between our souls. It healed me, sealed all the flesh wounds his rejection had caused.

It’d been a long night, and he’d have to be inhuman to be able to keep going. I wrapped my legs around his waist and hugged him to my chest, not wanting to let him go, wanting to treasure the strong drumming of his beating heart, the smell of his hair, the way he felt when he was mine again. My forehead was pressed against his.

He stayed on top of me, his eyes down and on my lips, his softening dick still inside me.

“I love you…” I closed my eyes as I said it, feeling those words come from my heart instead of my lips. My arms were wrapped around his neck, and I felt a little like a child snuggling with a teddy bear.

He pulled away slightly to kiss me on the forehead, his lips resting there for a while. “I love you too.” He rolled away from me, turning to his back on his bed, his body immediately softening once his muscles relaxed. His hand rested on his chest, and he closed his eyes, like he was physically exhausted and emotionally drained.