Addicted (Ethan Frost 2)

It doesn’t make sense. Am I really that ruined, that addicted, that I can’t find my way clear? Of him. Of this. Of the dangerous emotions battering me from every side.

Or is it that I’m not ruined at all? Damaged, yes. Hurt, absolutely. But loving Ethan—being loved by him—feels like the cleanest, purest thing that’s ever happened to me in my life.

“It’s okay, baby,” he tells me as he brushes, soft silky kisses against my throat, down my shoulder, over the slopes of my breasts. “I know it’s too soon. I know you don’t trust me anymore.”

“It’s not—”

He kisses me then, soft and sweet and gentle. So gentle. “It is. And that’s okay. I get it.”

But it isn’t okay. Even in the dark, I can see the look in his eyes. Can see the way I’ve hurt him. The way I’m breaking him even now.

The knowledge does something to me on a visceral level. It turns me inside out, makes me hurt in a way nothing ever has before and that I pray never will again. I love this man, I love him even through the pain, even through the fear, even through the betrayal, and the idea that I’m wrecking him as I’ve been wrecked—it shatters me.

“I love you,” I tell him, grabbing his face in my hands and pulling his mouth back to mine. Only this kiss isn’t soft and it sure as hell isn’t sweet. It’s deep and dark and damaged, so damaged. It’s tongues and teeth, pleasure and pain, heaven and hell. It’s everything Ethan and I are laid bare between us and nothing has ever felt so right.

“Fuck, Chloe!” Ethan rips his mouth from mine even as he throws open the car door. Then he’s levering his hands under my ass and climbing out of the car with me still in his arms.

I expect him to carry me into the house, but he doesn’t get any farther than the front porch before slowly sliding me down his body. And then he’s turning me so that I’m facing the porch railing, my hands planted firmly on the wrought iron.

“What are you doing? We’re on the front por—” I break off when he snaps his teeth against the nape of my neck hard enough to leave a bruise.

Heat courses through me and I gasp, tremble. Then he’s between my legs, pushing down my yoga pants with one hand while his other hand fumbles his jeans out of the way.

He presses me forward, grazes his teeth along my neck one more time, even as he reaches between my thighs to test my readiness. I’m hot and wet, my body aching and clenching with the need to feel him inside me.

“Ethan, please. I need—” My words turn to dust in my mouth as he bends me over the railing and surges inside of me with one powerful thrust of his hips.

I whimper deep in my throat, probably would have screamed if I wasn’t worried about alerting the whole neighborhood to what we’re doing. It’s been less than twenty-four hours since he was inside of me, but that’s too long. Far too long. I need this. I need him, Ethan, inside of me, loving me, all the time. I need the power and the softness, the passion and the sweetness that is him. Again and again and again.

I try to speak, but my mouth is desert dry. There’s only enough thought, enough sanity left for the high, hungry sounds clawing their way out of my throat with each heavy slam of Ethan’s hips against my ass.

I reach behind him, rake my nails down his bare ass as I try to pull him even closer. “Harder,” I finally manage to form the word that’s been throbbing inside of me since the moment I first felt his fingers rubbing against my sex. “Please. Harder.”

Ethan responds with more pressure, with harder thrusts until it almost feels like he’s ripping me apart. But it’s good, so good, and I don’t want him to stop. Not now. Not ever.

His left hand moves between my legs while his right one remains at the small of my back, pressing me forward for the best angle. He spreads me open, strokes the spot where we’re joined. Fireworks go off inside of me and I climb higher and higher, the need to orgasm growing with every second that passes.

“Come on, baby,” he murmurs, breath hot and heavy against my ear. “Come for me. Let me feel you.” He reaches for my clit then, strokes his thumb over it once, twice, a third time. That’s all it takes to break me open, to shatter me. I come, sobbing his name.

And still Ethan doesn’t stop. He rides me through the orgasm, his heavy body pounding into mine even as he continues to stroke my clit. Wave after wave of sensation crashes through me, weakening my knees and sending slivers of electricity to every part of me.

And then he’s sliding a hand under my tank top, rubbing my nipples through my bra. I’m so sensitive that it almost hurts even as it causes another wave of pleasure to crash through me. “I can’t,” I gasp, pushing at his hand. “No more.”

“There’s always more,” he tells me, squeezing my nipple between his thumb and index finger. “There has to be. You’re mine, Chloe. You’re mine and I’m never letting you go.”

He continues thrusting into me, even as he licks his tongue down the side of my neck. One of his hands is on my breast, the other is on my clit and I can feel another orgasm building inside me. This one is immense, terrifying, nearly painful in its intensity and there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to let go. That wants to stay right here, where it’s safe. Where I’m grounded and don’t have to worry about being adrift in the ocean of emotions Ethan calls forth from me.

But Ethan won’t have it. “Come on, Chloe. Give it to me. I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you, love. One more time. I swear, I’ve got you.”

He strokes my clit harder, faster, determined to bring me over. “I love it when you come. I love being inside of you when your muscles clench around me again and again.”

He bends his head to my shoulder, licks at the line of sweat that’s rolling down my shoulder blade. “I love the way your skin flushes and your mouth falls open. I love the way your nipples peak and your hips jerk against mine.” He skims his lips over my lobe, his tongue sweeping against the sensitive spot behind my ear as he continues to whisper to me, continues to drive me higher with his words and his body and his love. Always his love.

Tears are streaming down my face now, my body so far out of my control that I can’t imagine ever belonging to myself again. And in this moment, at this time, I can’t bring myself to care. Not with Ethan’s body moving feverishly inside mine. Not with his words ripping though me like lightning, inflaming me, taking me higher and higher with every breath that passes between us.

“I love the way you take me,” he tells me. “I love the way you give yourself to me so completely, the way you give and give and give. I love how you take all of me. How you tremble against me and beg for more.” His mouth fastens on the spot between my neck and shoulder, sucking ravenously.

“I love the way you look at me, like you don’t quite get me but are determined to figure me out. I love how brave you are. I love how strong you are, how you always get back up. I love how honest and open you are, with your body and your heart.”