Chapter 14 - Raegan #2
I stroke him slowly, learning the feel of him in my palm. His skin is like silk over steel, and when I run my thumb over the sensitive head, he makes a sound that’s part groan, part prayer.
“Fuck, that’s good,” he breathes.
Emboldened by his response, I increase the pressure, working him with sure strokes. Pre-cum beads at the tip, and I smooth it around the head with my thumb, making him curse under his breath.
“Raegan, I need—” His voice breaks when I twist my wrist on the upstroke. “I need to be inside you.”
“Yes,” I agree, spreading my legs wider. “Please.”
He positions himself between my thighs, and the blunt head of his cock presses against my entrance. For a moment, we both freeze, understanding the significance of this moment.
When he pushes inside, the sensation steals my breath. Not just the physical joining, but the way the supernatural bond flares with completion. This is what I’ve been fighting against, what I’ve been denying we both needed.
He fills me completely, stretching me in ways that border on too much. My body adjusts gradually, welcoming him home.
“Okay?” he asks, holding perfectly still.
“More than okay.” I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper.
He moves slowly at first, like he’s savoring the sensation. Each thrust sends pleasure radiating through my core, and I can feel myself getting wetter, easing the slide.
The pace gradually increases as his control frays. Soon, he’s moving with real purpose, and each thrust hits something inside me that makes stars burst behind my eyelids.
“Right there,” I gasp when he finds the perfect angle.
“Here?” He hits the same spot again, and I arch off the bench.
“Yes, God, yes.”
The workbench creaks under the force of his movements, but neither of us cares. I’m lost in the sensation of him moving inside me, the way his muscles bunch and release under my hands, the sounds he makes when I clench around him.
“Touch yourself,” he commands. “I want to feel you come on my cock.”
The dirty words make me flush, but I obey and slide my hand between our bodies to find my clit. The added stimulation pushes me toward another peak.
“That’s it,” he encourages. “You’re so sexy. Come for me.”
When my second orgasm breaks, I scream his name as my body convulses around him. The contractions trigger his own release, and he buries himself deep as he fills me with liquid heat.
We stay locked together as his forehead rests against mine, and I can see wonder in his gray eyes.
Slowly, reluctantly, he pulls out of me, but neither of us makes a sound.
We dress in relative silence, both understanding that the real world is waiting outside these walls. When I’m fully clothed again, I realize nothing has actually been resolved between us.
“This doesn’t fix everything,” I tell him.
“I know.”
“I’m still angry. About the kidnapping, about how you rejected me before.”
“I understand.”
The reasonable acceptance in his voice makes something snap inside me. How can he be so calm when I just threw away three years of carefully built walls? When I just proved that my body will betray every principle I have, the moment he touches me?
“Do you?” I ask, my voice rising. “Because I just let you fuck me on a workbench like some desperate—”
“Raegan, don’t—”
“Don’t what? Don’t acknowledge that I have zero self-control where you’re concerned? Don’t admit that I’m exactly as weak as you always thought I was?”
He reaches for me, but I step back, wrapping my arms around myself like armor.
“This was a mistake,” I continue. “I can’t even stick to my own principles when it comes to you.”
“That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it? You kidnap me, force me into marriage, and the first time you touch me, I fall into bed with you like nothing happened. Like I haven’t spent three years trying to get over you.”
The words pour out of me, each one more cutting than the last. He flinches, but I can’t stop. The self-loathing that’s been building since the moment I kissed him demands an outlet.
“I hate that I still want you,” I whisper. “I hate that my body doesn’t care what you’ve done to me. I hate that I’m so pathetically grateful for scraps of your attention that I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give.”
“Raegan, please—”
“No.” I back toward the door, needing distance before I do something even more humiliating, like beg him to love me. “I can’t do this. I can’t keep pretending that what just happened means anything when we both know you’ll just walk away again the moment it’s convenient.”
I reach for the door handle, but his voice stops me.
“Where are you going?”
“Away from you,” I reply without turning around. “Before I make an even bigger fool of myself.”
Then I’m out the door, half-running down the corridor while his scent still wraps around my clothes and the taste of him lingers on my lips. Behind me, I hear him call my name, but I don’t look back.
I can’t.
Because if I do, I’ll end up right back where I started—wanting something from him that he’ll never be willing to give.