30. Trip
THIRTY
TRIP
L ydia is mine.
A month has passed since I dragged her out of that fucking factory, and I haven’t let her go since.
Not even for a second.
She’s my oxygen. My fucking lifeline. I can’t breathe without her. Can’t think . When she isn’t within arm’s reach, the world tilts. My pulse slows. My mind spins with worst-case scenarios.
I see her in that chair again, bound and bleeding, Patrick’s fucking hands on her. And I lose it.
Every. Fucking. Time.
I don’t tell her that, of course. I don’t want her to see how close I am to losing control. But I know she can feel it.
She feels it every time I touch her.
Every time I pin her to the bed, my hands gripping her wrists too tightly, my body covering hers like I can shield her from everything with just my skin. She feels it when I fuck her–harder, deeper, taking everything I can until I’m sure there’s nothing left between us.
And even then…it isn’t enough.
It’s never enough. I’m addicted to her. Completely. It isn’t just the sex–though fuck, the sex is enough to ruin me. It’s her.
The way her body melts against mine like she belongs there. The way she whispers filthy, desperate things in my ear, begging me to ruin her, to mark her, to own her. The way she looks at me afterward, like I’m her whole fucking world.
Because I am.
Just like she is mine.
I watch her sleep now, her body tangled in the sheets, her hair a mess against the pillow. Her lips are swollen, her skin still flushed from the last time I fucked her.
Twice.
No… three times.
Fuck. I’ve lost count.
Her body is mine in every way that matters. I’ve carved my marks into her skin, stained her with my cum, fucked her until she couldn’t walk, and still… It’s not enough.
I need her. All the fucking time. My cock is already hard again just looking at her.
Her thighs are slightly parted, the wetness between them glistening in the faint glow from the bathroom light. She’s still dripping with me, and I fucking love it.
Mine.
My brain stops working when she’s like this. It goes back to caveman ways. All I can think is Mine .
My jaw clenches as I run my hand down her back, tracing over the bruises I’d left there earlier. She doesn’t stir, but I feel her body react, her breathing hitching just slightly even in sleep.
“Even asleep, you know who you belong to,” I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper.
I can’t stop touching her. I never want to stop. My fingers trace lower, slipping between her thighs to feel how slick she still is.
Warm.
Wet.
Fucking perfect.
A low growl rumbles in my chest as I spread her legs wider, my thumb circling her clit gently–just enough to make her body shudder. She stirs, a soft moan escaping her lips, but she doesn’t wake.
Not yet.
But I want her awake. I need her eyes on me. Need to see that look–that fucking look she gives me when I’m inside her. When she’s falling apart, and she knows it’s because of me .
“Wake up, killstreak,” I murmur, pressing a kiss against her shoulder as my fingers slide deeper. She gasps softly, her body arching instinctively as she wakes.
“Trip…” Her voice is breathless, her eyes fluttering open, still hazy with sleep.
I don’t give her time to catch up. I’m already on her. My mouth claiming hers in a deep, demanding kiss, swallowing her moan as my fingers fuck her slowly.
“Morning,” I whisper against her lips, my cock pressing against her thigh.
Her eyes meet mine, and fuck… that look. That fucking look. Her pupils are blown wide, her lips swollen, her body already responding to me like it’s made for this.
Made for me.
“Again?” Her voice is soft, teasing, but I hear the need in it.
“Always.”
I pull her onto her back, her legs spreading automatically as I position myself between them. I drag my cock through her slick folds, teasing her, making her body beg for it.
“Please…”
One word.
That’s all it takes to snap whatever control I have left. I shove into her with one brutal thrust, burying myself to the hilt as her body arches beneath me.
“Fuck, killstreak…” I growl, my teeth grazing her jaw as I move inside her.
Her nails dig into my back, her hips grinding up to meet every thrust. She’s so fucking wet, so tight, her body gripping me like it’s made to take me.
“Harder,” she whispers, her voice shaky but needy.
“Yeah?” I growl, lifting her legs higher, spreading her wider to take me deeper.
She gasps, her eyes rolling back as I fuck her harder, deeper, every thrust sending shockwaves through both of us.
“Like that, killstreak?” I grit out, watching her fall apart beneath me.
“Y-yes… oh god, yes…” Her head tilts back, her neck bared to me like a fucking offering.
I can’t resist. My teeth sank into her skin, right where her neck meets her shoulder, marking her again.
“Mine,” I growl against her skin.
She comes hard, her body clenching around me, milking my cock as her screams echo through the room. But I’m not done.
Not even close.
Afterward, I don’t let her go. I can’t. Her body is still trembling, her breathing ragged as she curls into me, but I keep her close, holding her like I’m afraid she’ll disappear if I let go.
Because I am .
Fuck.
I’m spiraling. Every time I touch her, I fall deeper. Every time she screams my name, I lose another piece of whatever sanity I have left.
I’m obsessed.
Possessive.
And it’s getting worse.
I watch her sleep again, my fingers brushing lightly over her hair as I try to calm the storm in my chest.
She’s everything. Everything I never knew I needed. And the thought of losing her…
No.
I tighten my grip on her, my jaw clenching as I press a kiss to her forehead. I won’t lose her.
Ever.
She’s mine. Body. Mind. Soul. And if the world tries to take her from me?
I’ll fucking burn it to the ground.