Page 152 of Allegiant

But I drag it out, making him sweat, making him beg in his own way. His hands are tight around my waist, his limbs trembling slightly as we continue to grind up against each other.

“Let me fuck you,” he murmurs.

“No, not this time.”

He groans as I lean up and kiss him.

“But I was thinking we could get on the floor and I could sit on your face.”

He falls backward, pulling me with him, his body cushioning my fall. I squeal and then moan when he positions me right where he wants me, his tongue lapping at the tip of my cock. But I want this to be reciprocal, so I feed my dick into his mouth just once before pulling out and turning around.

He palms my ass as he helps me move backward, and then we fall on each other’s cocks, sucking and swallowing, our moans heard only by the walls around us. I turn my head slightly and see us in the mirror, and it makes me nearly come undone. The sight of the two of us together. Perfect.

He finds his release first, spilling into my mouth.

I follow him over, the two of us shaking and moaning as our orgasms rush through us. Then I fall to my side, and Samson drags himself up next to me, his head resting on my chest, his hand curling around me tightly. “Fuck. That was amazing.”

“It always is. The things you do with your tongue…”

He grunts and nuzzles against me, and my fingers thread through his hair. I glance at the floor-to-ceiling mirrors once more, taking in our naked forms twined around each other, and I realize that life can’t get better than this.

EPILOGUE

JULES

I curl deeper into the empty bath, praying that someone will save me.

“Open this fucking door, Jules.” The hammering on the door doesn’t stop. A few minutes more and it’ll splinter under his fist. It’s happened before. I don’t know why I’m even hiding. It only ever makes everything worse. “Do you know how pathetic you are? What kind of man fucking hides like this?”

The kind who’s been broken down over the years. Who’s too afraid to speak in case he says something wrong. Nothing I ever say is right. Nothing.

It never used to be like this. When I first met Patrick, he was charming. Sweet. Caring.

He was careful not to show his true colors until after we exchanged vows, when I was thousands of miles from my home with no control over my finances.

I was a fool. A young, naive fool.

I blame my parents. They love one another. I wanted that, the white picket fence and the adoring gazes.

I didn’t get that. Not at all.

I was doomed to this life instead.

“Fuck this,” I hear Patrick mutter. “You can’t hide in there forever. You have to come out sometime, and I’ll be waiting when you do.”

I lean my head back against the cold porcelain, tears streaming down my face. I’m fully dressed, I just thought the bath seemed like a good place to hide this time.

I don’t know why. Maybe it’s the feeling of being enclosed. Held, almost.

It’s been so long since I’ve been held.

The closest was Harley when he pulled me into a hug the other day. But I didn’t let myself sink into that. I was stiff and aloof. I couldn’t go there.

I never can with him, or else I’ll fall entirely.

I listen to Patrick’s boots stomping away. All the way down the stairs. Along the hallway. To the front door. It slams behind him. He’s probably off to find his next hit.

He was always a monster deep down, but the drugs have made him bold, careless.