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“What? She can dish it out, but the poor thing can’t take it?” he murmured.
“Fuck you, Merrick,” I goaded.
His fingers withdrew and his cock slammed into me, filling me with every inch of it in a single moment. My eyes rolled back and I cried out, biting my lip.
His big, lean fingers tangled in my hair and kept my head pressed down. The sink was cold against my bare stomach and the cabinet door pressed into my shins. I’d have bruises tomorrow.
I was crazy about his gentle side, but this…this scratched an itch deep inside and I wanted more of it. I whimpered, moaned, begged, and told him how big he was and how I loved taking him like this. Urging him on.
He’d done his fair share of praising me and it turned out it felt good to return the favor.
“That’s right,” he said, jaw gritted. “You take the whole thing.”
He gathered my wrists in his grip, held them behind my back, and fucked me hard. The sound he made when he came echoed in my head. So satisfying, somewhere between a growl and groan.
Then he cleaned me up, brewed my favorite coffee, and put me on the counter to watch while he cooked. He made me French toast naked and fed it to me and told me all the things I wanted to hear. How pretty I was, how good I felt, how hard I made him come.
And somewhere beneath it all, I felt the undercurrent of his darkness.
Buried deep, deep inside.
CHAPTER THIRTY
MERRICK
I knew I only had her for the next week so I didn’t waste my time. We fucked in the mornings, in the kitchen, before lunch, in the shower, in bed again for an afternoon nap. At night we went upstairs after dinner and I kept her up until well after midnight.
Her birth control was working overtime and my dick was raw by the end of the fourth day, but that didn’t stop us.
It felt like a marathon, but I was so addicted I couldn’t stop. I wasn’t sure I’d ever had this much sex in my life at one time. That was saying something because I’d put in a lot of time in my twenties and thirties.
I wasn’t sure what it was, but the quality of the sex we had was better than anything I’d experienced.
It was intimate and breathless.
It felt so safe and easy.
I forgot all about performing or fulfilling fantasies. I just made her come until she couldn’t come any more and then she did the same for me. Then we ate and slept and did it all over again.
On our fourth day there, we had a late lunch and she fell asleep around five. I carried her upstairs, stripped her naked, and tucked her into bed. Then I went downstairs to use the gym and have a shower in the hall bathroom.
It was almost nine when I finished some work on my laptop and went up to the bedroom. It had finally stopped snowing the sky was clear through the glass wall over the bed.
In the starlight, I could just make out her form. Curled up on her side, dark hair splayed out over her pillow. Naked arms tucked against her breasts.
I stripped and slid between the sheets. The sight of her made my chest ache, a soft, nostalgic emotion that welled up like water.
A feeling my people had a word for.
Hireath.
A place I’d never been, a place I longed for more than anything. A future I could have, but knew I would never get.
“Merrick,” she murmured.
Her voice was thick with sleep and her eyes were black in the starlight.
“Clara,” I whispered.
