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“It’s always been about protecting her, hasn’t it?” X said softly. “Both times you’ve killed has been because you were protecting her, and yet she never thanks you for it.”
“I don’t do it for the thanks. I know I’ll never get it. All I want is to see her alive.”
He stared at me, his gaze holding mine, as though he was reading every inch of what made me who I was written across my face, then he reached out and grabbed the front of my t-shirt in his fist. With a forceful yank, he pulled me toward him, our bodies colliding on his narrow bed. His lips found mine, his kiss both soft and forceful, his tongue pushing into my mouth, tracking mine down. Then his hand left the top of my t-shirt and reached down to push under it instead, his fingers searching for my breast. His hand weighed the curve of my breast and then his fingers rolled and pinched my nipple.
We became a sudden flurry of movement, a crazed urgency. I didn’t allow myself to think any further; I’d done enough thinking. My hands pushed up inside his shirt, feeling his hot, smooth skin. Then my fingers ran over a ridge, and another softer circle, his skin peppered with them.
I pulled away, “What the…?”
He dragged me back, a dark desire in his eyes. “Not yet,” he whispered against my mouth. “I’ll tell you, but not yet.”
I hadn’t seen him, but to me it felt like his body was covered in blemishes. Part of me wanted to press him on the topic, but the other, more primal part only wanted to consume him.
I was mindful of the injury in his arm and thigh, both of which I had given him. He was favoring his injured side, understandably, but it didn’t seem to slow him down. His kiss melted me, and his caress on my breast sent electric tingles shooting right down between my thighs. Too much time had passed since I’d had someone kiss and touch me like this—the time before I’d met X had been with a one night stand whose name I didn’t even remember—and even though I knew this was wrong, my body kept telling me it was oh-so-right.
We tumbled to his bed together, a mess of limbs and hands and mouths. X yanked my t-shirt up and over my head and then fell to my breasts. I was on my back, him hovering over me. My nipples were already puckered, and he bent his head to draw one into his mouth. His tongue laved the hardened nub, making me squirm, and then his teeth closed gently around the peak. My hips bucked, my nipple seeming to have direct contact with my pussy, and I wanted more. My fingers laced through his hair, pulling him closer to me, as though I wanted him to take my entire breast into his mouth and devour me.
But instead his mouth left my nipple and tracked a cool trail down across my stomach and to the waistband of my jeans. He was quick to pop the button and pull down the zipper, then yanked the jeans from my hips. I wasn’t wearing any underwear.
He didn’t once pause to check if it was what I wanted. He was the sort of man who saw what he wanted and took it. That was fine by me. I was exactly the same.
He used his knees to shove my legs apart, opening me up to him as he settled between them. Like a man starving, he pushed his face between my thighs, his hot breath on my sensitive skin. His fingers parted me, and then his tongue was on my slit, tracing a long line up from my perineum, across my opening and up to my clit, where he swirled a circle and then headed back down.
I couldn’t help the little ‘ah’ of pleasure that escaped my throat, and my hips lifted again, seeking more. He licked me like that again, long and slow, driving me crazy, and then pushed a finger inside me. My body reacted to the penetration instantly, wetness flooding my channel and coating his digit. He pumped into me a couple of times and then added a second finger, and then a third, stretching me open. His mouth remained on my pussy, his tongue flicking over my clit in little laps. I felt like I was captured by him, holding my body, mind, and this climb toward the peak of pleasure in his sole grasp.
I was close to coming, reaching for it now. I didn’t want to let go of the high I was on, but the desire to topple from the cliff’s edge gripped me. His teeth grazed against my clit, making me squeal, and then he did something with his fingers, curled them inward as he stroked, which pushed me over the edge. My orgasm hit me hard and fast, every muscle taut as the waves shuddered through me again and again, leaving me gasping.
He looked up from between my thighs, his blue eyes smiling with smug satisfaction.
I reached for him. “Now it’s your turn.”
I wanted him naked, too, not only because I was curious as to what he was hiding under his shirt, but also because I wanted to feel skin against skin. But he didn’t let me touch him, and instead his hands went to his own waistband. The size and shape of his erection pressed against the inside of the material, making me eager for what was in store.
He freed himself, his erection springing out into his hand, long and thick. His fist closed around it, and I watched slack-lipped as he pumped his hand up and down the shaft, his eyes never leaving me. I reached for him again, but he batted my hand away with his free one.
“No,” he said. He was still wearing his shirt, his pants only slightly hung from his hips. “Turn over.”
“I want—”
But he didn’t let me speak any further. He reached down and grabbed my thighs and yanked me over, so I flipped onto my front. Then his fingers closed roughly over my hips and he pulled me up so I was on all fours.
His knees pushed between mine again, and then the solid weight of his cock thudded on my ass, and I caught my breath. My heart was racing, partly from my recent orgasm, but also in anticipation of what was to come. I could smell sex on the air, that slightly salty musk, a combination of us both, and it made my mouth water.
He took no prisoners, grabbing my hips, his cock nudging my entrance. He felt so big and hard, but I was wet and ready for him. With a surge of his hips, he thrust balls-deep, giving a grunt of satisfaction as he did so.
His movements grew faster, his hips pistoning as he slammed into me. Flesh smacked against flesh. He reached beneath my body and between my thighs to strum my clit at a speed that matched his own. The low ache in my belly began to build, and I experienced that tightening. My inner muscles gripped him, and his hand on my hip dug into my skin. I dropped down onto my elbows, my ass in the air. My breasts crushed against the bed. I glanced back over my shoulder to see his face tense and almost angry looking with concentration. I wished he were naked so I could see the taut muscles of his body as he fucked me.
“Ah, fuck ... Jesus …” he moaned as he slammed me harder, and then pulled out and slammed into me again. He held himself deep, and I felt him jerk inside me.
My orgasm hit, my pussy pulsating around him, as though milking him for more cum, even though he’d already shot his load inside of me. It shuddered through me, sparking all my nerve endings with little shocks that had my eyes rolling. I squeezed my inner muscles together, wanting to eke that last little bit of pleasure from the act, holding him tighter.
But he pulled out of me and we fell together in a tangled heap, me naked, him still fully dressed. I felt exposed, and I wasn’t the kind of woman who automatically wanted to snuggle after sex, even though X tried to pull me into him. I gently unraveled myself from his hold and grabbed my clothes, ignoring the trickle of him down the inside of my thighs, and headed to the bathroom.
I washed up and then dressed. Taking a deep breath, I headed back out into the bedroom to find X sitting up in bed, his gaze focused solely on me.
“Vee …” he said, and I knew what he was trying to ask me before he’d even said it.
“It’s fine,” I replied. “We’re fine. I just need to be ready, you know, in case something happens and we need to move quickly.”
He gave me a smile, but I saw sadness in his eyes. “No time for romance in our world,” he replied.
I climbed onto the single bed beside him, not bothering to pull the bedcovers over my body, and turned away from him to face the wall. “No, I guess not.”
I heard him sigh and roll over as well.
It wasn’t that there wasn’t time for romance; it was more that we didn’t have the luxury of forming those kinds of attachments. Sex was sex, and it didn’t need to come with any kind of emotional ties.
I’d turned away because I knew I couldn’t look at him or my heart would slowly start to fall, and once it started falling, it would be impossible to stop.
