Page 190 of Primal

The scent of her—of us—hits me. I’d bottle it if I could. Snort it like the addict I am.

She lifts her hips, ass high, and I lose my goddamn mind.

“Look at you,” I growl, palming her cheeks, spreading her wider. “So fucking needy.”

She moans as I slide back in from behind. Deeper than before. Tighter. Hotter.

Her hands fist in the sheets. Her body takes every inch like it was made for this.

For me.

I haul her up on all fours and pound into her.

And it still isn’t enough.

I drag her upright—back to chest. My mouth finds hers as I piston into her. Every wet slap of skin is a pledge. Every thrust, a confession.

“This what you wanted?” I snarl, keeping one arm locked across her stomach, taking her hard. “Me fucking you like I mean it? Like you’re mine?”

She whimpers.

“You came back”—thrust—“for this”—thrust—“Don’t lie to me.”

“Yes … God. Yes.”

My rhythm falters. Nothing left except the need to finish inside her.

“Come for me,” I rasp, “On my cock. Let me fucking own it.”

She sobs, her cunt fluttering around me like she wants to drag my soul out.

My balls tighten. My mouth crashes into hers. No holding back. Just need. White-hot and holy.

“Want me to stay in?” I grit out.

“Inside me,” she moans, tilting her head. “Don’t stop.”

I slam deep and spill into her—groaning into the crook of her neck, pumping with frantic thrusts until she gets all of me.

I stay buried in her.

Breathing like I’ve just survived a war.

I did.

We did.

When she quivers—pinned under my body and finally, fucking finally, mine—she sobs my name again.

This time, it sounds like forgiveness.

Chapter Thirty-Four

The stupid tears spill down my cheeks.

I don’t know what’s breaking me more—how good it felt to finally let him in again, or the ache of knowing how close we came to never.

He notices. Of course he does.