Page 78 of Run to Me

He groans, long and loud, and laps up my release with crude slurping sounds. The moment is raw and filthy and nothing like I’ve ever experienced. With all the strength zapped from me, I drop my forehead against the headboard with a hard thump. A helpless, pathetic whimper follows.

His low chuckle sends a chill skittering along my spine. “I told you…five minutes to make you scream my name. And I’m nowhere close to being done with you.”

I glance between my thighs to find him smiling up at me—a dirty, dark promise on his glistening lips—and I offer him the only thing I have to give. My surrender.

“Okay.”

Manhandling me, he flips me onto my back and rises to his knees. He did promise not to be gentle, and I’m too blissed-out to care. With a deviant kiss, he licks into my mouth and brands the taste of me onto my tongue. We break apart, and I’m drawn into the depths of his lust-blown eyes as he tenderly brushes aside the hair stuck to my wet cheeks.

His voice is so soft, so loving, when he says, “I’m gonna fuck you hard now, birdie, but know that I’m doing it with the utmost love and respect.”

With a chaste peck on my lips, he kneels and yanks me closer while shoving a pillow under my hips. There’s nothing gentle about him. He moves fast and with purpose, placing one of my ankles on his shoulder and holding the other wide. My belly flutters with anticipation when he drags the swollen head of his erection through my folds, coating the tip with the remnants of my release.

Without warning, he pushes into me. I tense from the stretch, my back arching off the bed on a sharp inhale as I twist the sheets in my hands.

“Relax, beautiful. Breathe through it for me.”

“Fuck.” I spit out the single word, chest heaving as he works his way inside.

The ache and pressure beg me to look where we’re joining, but I can’t take my eyes off his. He’s intently watching himself sink into me, his gaze flicking to mine to make sure I’m okay. After a few shallow, testing strokes, he slams all the way in, forcing the air from my lungs. My eyes roll back in my head, and I can’t move. All my senses have abandoned me.

His head tips back on a guttural moan, eyes closed in submission to the euphoria. “Damn,” he whispers to the ceiling before checking on me. “You good?”

“Yep,” I squeak, giving him a freaking thumbs-up.

He barks a loud laugh, and my core clenches in response, which he takes as a sign to start moving. And move he does. The time for tenderness and levity has passed. He presses my knees to my chest, folding me in half. With sharp thrusts, our hips connect each time he drives deep.

“Look at how we fit together, birdie,” he commands, but I’m too distracted by his darkened eyes while remembering to breathe. “Look,” he repeats.

Mesmerized, we watch him glide in and out of me, our jaws slack and chests rising and falling in a synchronized rhythm. Loud grunts permeate the air, and I discover they’re mine. He’s omniscient of my needs, every thrust filling me with small doses of pain that deliver heaps of pleasure.

“Heaven. Pure fucking heaven,” he says, releasing one of my legs.

High-pitched sounds spill from my lips when he grabs the headboard for support and pistons his hips faster and harder. The bed slams against the wall, and I swear I’m having an out-of-body experience.

My gaze travels up his tightened abs and straining pecs, pausing on the hummingbird now in motion. Beads of sweat glisten on his neck and forehead. Ecstasy imprisons his face. Relaxed, parted lips. Heavy-lidded eyes burning into me with so much intensity, my heart skips several beats.

I’m lost in the hungry gaze devouring me. Amid the wild and frenzied sex, something more meaningful than physical attraction or carnal desire shines in his stare, and I recognize its familiar presence. It’s powerful, thrumming through the invisible chain linking us together. An unnamed feeling always known but never spoken by me.

It’s all too much—too terrifying—for me to handle.

“Jensen,” I whimper, overwhelmed by everything. The strong emotions blanketing us, the physical sensations, the simultaneous urges to flee and slip further into the madness.

He slows his movements. “Tell me what you need.”

I reach for him with urgency, unsure how to explain what I’m feeling. “I don’t know.”

Registering the panic in my voice, he sits back on his heels and hauls me onto his lap. The change in position forces him deeper, and I hide my wince in the crook of his neck.

“Jensen. It’s⁠—”

“You can handle it,” he says, reading my mind. “You can handle me. I’m not too much.”

A quick self-assessment reveals I’m freaking the fuck out. “What if you are? And what if I’m not enough for you? What if I don’t know how to do this? What if we⁠—”

“Look at me,” he says, cutting me off. He cradles my head in his hands, forcing me to abandon my hiding place in the crook of his neck. “You’re a beautiful soul, Maisy Rae.”

I sag on his lap, grateful he came to my rescue. “So are you, Jensen No Middle Name.”