Page 25 of Iron and Ivory

I pull back and do it again.

Hard.

She cries out.

I do it again. And again.

The silo wall takes the force of it and doesn't care, old metal rattlin' faintly somewhere above us, fairy lights swayin', and she's loud now—she gets loud when it's like this and I want the whole county to hear it, want every jackass who ever looked at her wrong to hear exactly whose name she's sayin', who she's callin' for, whose cock is buried so deep inside her she can feel it in her spine.

I watch her. Head tipped back, mouth open, my cock slammin' into her wet pussy while her legs shake around my waist and her pretty manicured fingers dig white-knuckled into my skin.

I think about how she's gonna be sore tomorrow in exactly the place I want her to be sore, how every time she moves she's gonna know, and I want that, I want her body to remember what I can't say.

"Look at me," I tell her.

Her head comes forward. Eyes find mine. Glassy, dark, completely wrecked.

I keep the pace. Hard. Steady. Deliberate.

I think about comin' inside her. How she takes it. How she wants it. How she's never once asked me not to and I don't know if I could stop myself if she did.

"You feel that?"

She nods, can't find words, which is its own kind of power.

"That's mine," I tell her. "That's mine and I want you to feel it tomorrow and the day after and every day after that."

She moans my name and it comes out broken in the middle, split clean in two, and I press my forehead to hers and just—drive—because I'm losin' the ability to be measured about any of this, losin' the careful pace I had five minutes ago, the control I was so proud of gone like it was never there.

I think about what she said. Your hands. Your weight. Your name when you're close.

I think about how she said cock like it was the most natural word in the world.

I think about how I'm never gonna be done with Savannah Ashby.

How I'll come back to this silo when I'm old if I make it to old.

How I'll come back as a ghost if I don't.

I don't say any of it.

I just fuck her harder, and she takes every bit of it, and the silo rattles, and her voice breaks when she screams my name…

CHAPTER 6

I'm still panting and moaning from the climax when Legion rests his face against my neck. It's a surrender of sorts, I can feel it. Like it's all catching up with us. Like the adrenaline is runnin' low. Like the fight or flight instinct has been on red flag for too long and the whole thing is about to come apart.

"I love you," he says. And then he lets out a long breath and everything I just thought becomes true.

In this moment, there's nothing left but this.

Us.

Two people in an old silo, clinging to each other like opposite ends of a magnet.

"Come home with me." It's not the answer, but I say it anyway. "Just… you can leave your bike here. We can ride double on Cassia and just go home."

He chuckles, low and soft, and then he lowers me down off the wall, gentle in a way that contradicts everything else about him, and leans back—just slightly, just enough—like he's tryin' to get a better look at me and needs the distance to do it right.