Page 95 of Trigger Happy Ending

Soren's lips brush mine, hot as hell, before I break the kiss. “Don’t say that.”

He slides his lethal hands down my waist, then he drops to his knees. My breathes catches as his palms glide over my hips, my thighs, and my legs. What the hell?

I reach down and cradle his chin in my fingers. I tilt his head up towards me.

“What's wrong?”

I wonder what we look like right now. My god of war, tortured and wild, kneeling at my feet like I’m some kind of higher power.

“I hate what this does to me.”

He means us. This connection that's rewriting who we are. That inner knowing that, perhaps I am his, and he is mine, and everything else is just white noise.

My thumb brushes the sharp line of his jaw.

“Me too.”

His eyes meet mine, black as a starless night and I see something in them I’d never thought I’d see.

Home.

Chapter 40

Soren

She brings me to my knees.

My green-eyed demon is intoxicating in all colors, but damn, she’s a vision in white. A low-cut silky gown with a thigh-high split, all her killer curves on display. Her black hair pulled tightly back into a high pony, those hypnotic eyes luring me to my certain death.

I rise to my feet and wrap my hands around her waist, pulling her towards me. The sound of the party below deck a mix of murmuring, bass, and drunk laughter. Even if we were caught out here, it wouldn’t be unexpected to find two people stealing a kiss in the shadows.

She kisses me, her tongue slow rolling with mine. Everything seems so far away now: the mission, my past. I wouldn’t give a shit if we got lost at sea. Bury me four fathoms deep, for I’ll happily take a sailor’s grave if it means keeping her with me. Every time I taste her, feel her, merge with her, I feel so alive. I’m a man obsessed. I spent so long feeling dead inside that I’d forgotten how fucking exhilarating life is when you have something to live for.

She breaks the kiss slowly, a delicate string of saliva stretches from our lips before she ghosts those perfect rosebud lips over my jaw, my throat. She lets me feel her breath against my skin, right about where the inked hellhound sits, jaws unhinged.

Teasing me. Testing me. Tempting me.

I pull her against me, spinning her toward the railing, so she faces the dark horizon. The ocean, earth’s black blanket, glistens under the moonlight. The silk from her dress clings to her body like cellophane. My hands brace either side of her. She smells like sin and starlight.

I press my mouth into the crook of her neck, the spot that makes her come undone. She rolls her head back onto my shoulder. I slide my hand under her dress, find the scrap of a thong, and brush my hand over her pussy. She pushes her tight ass back into my crotch, letting me know she likes it. I slide a finger underneath the thin fabric and trace tiny circles over her clit.

“What do you want?”

Her breathing changes, those little hitching breaths I hear every time I close my eyes. Her chest rises and falls, heavy and then shorter. I press a finger into her, and I feel my murderous queen open for me.

“I asked you a question,” I remind her, sinking my teeth lightly onto her neck, quickening the pace of my fingers dancing in her pussy.

Breathless, she whispers, “I don’t know.”

I slide my fingers out and rub her slickness up and down her. It can’t be easy stringing a sentence together when you’re having your clit stroked.

“Why not?”

Keeping one hand stroking her, I use my other hand to free my hard cock and gather up her silk dress. I look down at her perfect, tight ass, a little white strip of floss running down her middle. I pull her thong aside and run the tip of my cock over her wet pussy, teasing her. I edge my cock to her entrance, and she immediately tries to sink back onto me, but I stop her.

“No,” I tell her, my other hand still playing with her. “Tell me what you want.”

She licks her lips. “I want you to fuck me.”