Page 894 of Coal Hearts

Our pulse matched the same chaotic beat as I locked deep, deep inside her, not moving as her body slowly made room for me.

The blackness feathered into happiness.

The desire for pain bled with blinding pleasure.

I didn’t know what this made us, but I did know life was too short to question it.

I grunted as I thrust.

My ears rang as Ily moaned.

We weren’t quiet as we fell into a punishing, primal rhythm.

My head swam. My cock thickened. And for the first time in my sorry excuse of a life, I let go.

I fell into the pieces of me I’d always been too afraid to know.

I laughed in pure joy as I fucked my wife-to-be and groaned as I used her as my favourite toy.

And when I bent over her and captured the back of her neck with my teeth, I’d never known such happiness, such motherfucking freedom.

She stilled as my teeth found her breakable skin.

Her pussy clenched around me in anticipation.

And I knew just how to make her shatter. How to make her fall with me. I’d always known. She’d always known. Because we’d always been born for each other.

“Now, little nightmare.” I licked her neck like a beast ready to pounce. “While I have you beneath me and completely at my mercy, allow me to tell you what’s going to happen.”

She panted and collapsed onto her cheek, submitting to me with her ass in the air. “You’re enjoying this far too much.” A laugh laced her words. “Sadist.”

“No, not a sadist, little nightmare. I’m an Ilychist. And you, my incredible wife, are going to take my cock like a good little girl and then I’m going to make you scream.”

Epilogue One

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Ily

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Six months later...

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PETE AKA ‘THE GOOD GUY’: HAVE you told him yet?

I stopped making the bed in the guest room, swatting away my ponytail that’d fallen over my shoulder. I should really learn not to do two things at once. Trying to fluff the pillows while checking to see if Peter had landed ensured the jobs took twice as long.

Grinning, I typed back.

ILY AKA ‘THE NIGHTMARE’: Not yet. He’s due back any second. He’s been in a meeting with Ben, Stew, and his brother all day.

I snickered at our phone names for each other. It’d started as a joke when Henri managed to track down all of the jewels—thanks to Q keeping record of where they went home—and set up a group on What’s app to stay in touch.

Sometimes, we’d share a fear that resurfaced or we’d discuss a trigger that made life miserable. But over the past few months, the group had become a place of healing instead of hardship.

Rachel had had her baby and spammed the group with photos. To start with, the response was strained. Some still saw Victor in the adorable fat-cheeked baby. But as he grew and switched from scrunched up caterpillar into a smiling bright-eyed boy, no one saw Victor anymore, just Rach.