Chapter 12 #3
Her slick heat rubbed against the head of his cock, driving him half-mad, when she suddenly stilled. Her eyes burned into his, fierce and hungry, and her voice dropped to a low, wicked whisper. “Make me come, Christian. With your mouth. I want to feel you there.”
The command detonated inside him. He groaned, grasped her thighs, and pulled her forward until she hovered above his face. The scent of her filled him, sweet and intoxicating, and then she lowered onto him.
He buried himself between her legs, tongue driving deep, sucking, stroking, worshipping. She rode him shamelessly, grinding down, her cries echoing off the cave walls. Her hands fisted in his hair, nails scraping his scalp, and every sound she made only pushed him further into frenzy.
“Christ, Emily…taste so good. That’s it, Em, ride me. Give it to me.”
She came apart on his mouth, shuddering, sobbing his name as he devoured her, drinking down every pulse, every spasm like he’d never get enough.
Before her release had even finished tearing through her, she slid down his body, wet skin dragging over his chest, his abs, until she reached his cock. She kissed him hard, stealing his breath, and then in one slow, claiming movement, she sank down onto him.
He gasped, every muscle locking, his hands clamping to her hips as the heat of her swallowed him whole.
“Emily…” His voice broke, raw and reverent. “God, yes.”
She rocked against him, taking him deep, her mouth never leaving his, her hands roaming his body like she was memorizing every inch. Riding him with wild abandon, kissing him until he thought he’d lose his mind, she owned him completely.
Brawler knew what it truly was to give himself over to someone who held him securely, with a devastating tenderness that filled him in places that had been hollow as long as he could remember.
She slid down his cock inch by inch, taking him into her wet heat until she was seated flush against his hips.
Brawler’s vision went white. His hands clamped to her thighs, not to guide her, he couldn’t even think of guiding her, but to keep from flying apart under the shock of being inside her again.
“Fuck, Em,” he groaned, voice ragged. “You’re so goddamn perfect.”
She braced her hands against his chest, fingers splaying over the thick muscle, then dragged them upward to his shoulders, to his throat, to his face.
She cradled his jaw, her thumbs stroking his cheekbones as if she wanted to see him while she took him.
Then she kissed him, deep, hungry, tongue tangling with his as her hips began to move.
She started slow, rolling her hips in tight, grinding circles that milked every nerve in his dick. He choked on a groan, his eyes rolling back, but she broke the kiss to whisper against his lips.
“Look at me, Christian. I want you to see who’s taking you apart.”
He forced his eyes open, met hers, and the bottom dropped out of him. Green and gold fire, fierce and tender, and he couldn’t look away. She was riding him, fucking him, kissing him, her hair spilling like flames around them, and he was powerless, lost.
She lifted on his cock, dragging up the thick length until he was almost free, then dropped again, taking him deep in a wet, clenching slide.
His groan tore from him, muffled against her mouth as she swallowed it in a kiss.
Again and again she worked him, bouncing harder, faster, then slowing to grind, teasing him until sweat slicked their bodies and his cock throbbed painfully inside her.
“Emily…” His voice broke, wrecked, pleading. “I can’t…Jesus, I can’t hold back.”
Her smile was wicked, luminous in the glow of the cave. She licked his lower lip, then nipped it before whispering, “Then don’t. Give me everything.”
She rode him harder, slamming down, taking him deeper, her nails scoring his chest, his shoulders, her mouth branding him with kiss after kiss.
Every movement was possession, every sigh and cry a benediction, and Brawler knew with brutal clarity he’d never get free of her. Not in this life. Not in any other.
The waterfall thundered behind them, echoing the rhythm of her body, relentless and eternal. She was liquid fire, wild joy, raw hunger, and she was his. As her inner muscles tightened, squeezing, pulsing, dragging him to the edge, he gave himself over with no hesitation, no fear.
But even as his body shook, the deeper wave hit harder, his chest cracked open, soul pouring out through his eyes locked on hers, a surrender not just of flesh, but of everything he was.
It was more than climax. It was consecration, raw and unguarded, his warrior’s spirit unshackled, flooding into her as if the two of them were bound by something older, something eternal.
His body convulsed, every muscle locking in fierce, primal release as unbearable pleasure surged through his dick, detonating in his balls, racing up his spine and exploding through every nerve ending.
His lungs seized, heat ripping through him until he was gasping.
The sensation was unlike anything he had ever known, tearing a raw shout from his throat.
His pulse roared in his ears, blood hammering through his veins as if the world itself moved inside him, with him.
His hands clamped on her hips, holding her to him as if he could anchor her inside his very body.
He spilled into her, the ache for her oddly filled even as it built higher, deeper, fiercer.
Never enough. God, it would never be enough.
His shortcake lived in him now, in blood and bone, in sex and sin, in heart and soul.
He poured everything he was into her, and still the hunger grew, not just for her body but for every raw, hidden piece of himself she had dragged into the light.
In that shattering moment, he knew. No woman before her had ever reached him like this, stripped him bare, touched the marrow of who he was.
She was his reckoning and his release, his punishment and his grace.
The only one who had ever made him believe he was more than the muscle, more than the uniform, more than the endless weight he carried.
Emily had claimed what no one else had even seen, his soul, and God help him, he didn’t want it back.
With all that spiraling and crashing through him, he couldn’t deny what she had said.
He had to be enough, just as he was. For her.
For his team. For his brother. Wasn’t she showing him the way?
Hadn’t she given him the tools? Christ, had she just saved his life, not his body, but his spirit, his mind, his heart?
Em…Emily… He had never known the sensation of being so lost and so found at the same time.