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"Need you," he growled, his deep blue eyes meeting mine, a storm brewing in their depths.
I stepped closer, my heart thrumming in my chest, desire coiling tight in my stomach. "What?"
"I need you." His arms encircled my waist, his heat enveloping me as I reached up to trace the lines etched into his flesh. He was so hardened by this life, but sometimes, the way he looked at me made my heart stop. He made me feel… alive.
"I want to feel alive, Ella," he confessed, his voice ragged. "With you."
"Show me," I breathed as our lips crashed together, a collision of hunger and raw emotion. His hands roamed over my body, rough and demanding, as if he could claim me entirely through touch alone.
"Such a perfect little ember," he declared as he lifted me, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. He carried me to the bed, laying me down amidst the scratchy sheets, his smooth fingers tracing my dips and curves.
"Oh God," I gasped, arching beneath him as he kissed along my collarbone, nipping and sucking a path to my breasts, worshiping them with a fervor that left me writhing. My fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him closer, urging him on.
"God, you're so fucking beautiful," he groaned, his gaze devouring me just as thoroughly as his mouth did moments later. His hands slid down my body, peeling away the last barriers between us, and I shivered, anticipation skittering across my skin.
"Fuck me, Chris," I urged, spreading myself open beneath him, an offering willingly given.
He reared back, positioning himself at my entrance. "Look at me," he commanded, and when our eyes locked, there was no holding back the moan that escaped me as he drove into me, hard and deep.
"Fuck, Ella," he swore, setting a relentless pace that robbed me of breath, of thought. Every thrust pushed me higher, threatening to shatter me.
His hand slid into my hair, grasping firmly, tilting my head back. My pulse hammered at the base of my throat, exposed and throbbing. He watched it beat, a look of raw hunger etching deeper lines into his already rugged face.
"More," I pleaded, nails digging into his back, marking him as surely as he marked me with every stroke.
"Eyes on me," he commanded, even as his hips began to move again, slow and deliberate.
I forced my eyes open, locking onto his. There was no hiding from the intensity there, from the naked emotion laid bare between us. As he thrust, each stroke was a conversation, our bodies moving of their own accord. His rhythm built, coaxing my body open, drawing out moans that mingled with the sound of flesh meeting flesh.
"Fuck, Ella," he rasped, his voice strained with effort. "You feel so goddamn perfect."
I let out a guttural moan. My climax hit like a tidal wave, dragging him under with me. Our cries mingled, raw and real, as we clung to each other, riding out the storm.
"Christ," he swore raggedly, collapsing onto me, his breath hot against my neck.
"Never thought... it could be like this," he murmured against my skin, his words blending with the beat of my heart. The vulnerability in his admission wrapped around me.
"Me neither," I whispered back, tracing the inked paths on his skin, lost in the depth of what we were becoming.
We just lay there, his heavy breaths fanned my flushed skin, the raw scent of us thick in the air. His inked arms held me. His fingers traced circles over my hip bone, a touch that spoke of possession as much as it did of care.
"Got me feeling things I shouldn't," he murmured. The strength in his tone was softened somehow by the way his thumb brushed against the sensitive skin beneath my navel.
"Chris," I started, my fingertips dancing across the ridges of his tattoos. "It's... it's not wrong to feel."
He lifted his head, those deep blue eyes meeting mine. "You're like a fucking ray of light in all my shit darkness."
"Maybe you just need someone to share the darkness with," I suggested with a small smile.
"Share? Hell, Ella, you make me wanna chase it away. You make me want to change." His hand slid up, tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear. His touch was gentler than I'd ever felt, but every bit as commanding as when he had spanked me, held me down, made me his.
"Chasing away the dark, huh?" I teased. Our power dynamic was shifting, tilting into something new.
"Damn straight." He grinned, but it was a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. There was something haunted there.
"Chris," I said, my voice barely a whisper, "I'm glad we found each other."
"Me too, baby. Me fucking too." His words were a vow, a promise etched into the night.
