Chapter 11 #4
She cries out, her legs wrapping around my waist, pulling me tighter against her core. I can feel the heat radiating from her cunt, even through the denim of her jeans. It’s an inferno. It’s a magnet.
I reach between us, fumbling with the button of her jeans. I need to be inside her. I need to feel her gripping me, tight and wet and alive. I need to drown in her.
"Get these off," I command, my voice rough.
She lifts her hips, shimmying the denim down her legs. I help her, yanking the fabric and her panties down in one rough motion. They pool around her ankles, a barrier I kick away without a second thought.
She’s bare. Exposed. The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
I spread her thighs with my knees, settling between them. The air is thick with the scent of her arousal—musky and sweet and utterly addicting. I run a finger through her folds, and she’s soaking wet. Drenched. Her juices coat my fingers, slick and hot.
"Look at this," I murmur, bringing my fingers to my mouth to taste her. "You're dripping for me."
"Only for you," she says, her eyes locked on mine. She reaches for my cock, freeing it from my trousers. Her hand wraps around the shaft, stroking me from base to tip. Her grip is firm, confident. She knows exactly how to touch me.
I grit my teeth, the pleasure almost blinding. "Fuck, your hand feels good."
"I want more," she whispers, guiding the head of my cock to her entrance. She rubs the tip through her wetness, coating me in her essence. "I want all of you."
I don’t hesitate. I grip her hips, my fingers digging into her flesh hard enough to leave bruises, and I thrust forward.
I sink into her in one long, relentless stroke. She’s tight, a velvet vise that grips me like a fist, but she takes me all. She gasps, her head falling back, her mouth open in a silent scream as I stretch her open.
"Yes!" she whispers out when I’m fully seated, my balls slapping against her ass. "You feel so fucking big."
I still for a moment, savoring the sensation of being buried to the hilt inside her. It’s grounding. It’s chaotic. It’s the only thing that makes sense. The rage is still there, but it’s turning into a primal, possessive lust that demands I claim her over and over again.
"Look at me," I order, withdrawing almost all the way before slamming back into her.
The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the hallway. It’s the sound of us. The sound of survival.
She meets my eyes, her gaze hazy with pleasure but sharp with defiance. "I'm looking," she pants. "Don't stop."
I set a brutal pace. I fuck her missionary on the floor, driving into her with the force of my rage. Every thrust is a declaration. Every stroke is a battle. I’m not making love to her; I’m worshipping her at the altar of violence and need.
Her nails rake down my back, tearing at the fabric of my shirt, scoring my skin. The pain sharpens my focus, makes the pleasure more intense. I like the sting. I like the reminder that she’s right here with me, fighting just as hard.
"Fuck, Romeo, your cock," she moans, her voice rising in pitch. "You're splitting me open."
"You can take it," I grunt, sweat beading on my forehead. I slide one hand between her legs, finding her clit. I rub the sensitive bundle of nerves in tight, fast circles, matching the rhythm of my hips. "You were made for this."
She shudders, her inner walls clamping down around me like a vice. "Yes! Right there! Don't stop!"
I can feel the orgasm building in the base of my spine, a tight coil of heat waiting to snap. I want to fill her up. I want to mark her from the inside out.
"Come for me, Nova," I command, my voice low and dangerous. "Squeeze my cock. Let me feel you."
She lets out a broken sob, her body trembling. "I'm close... I'm so close..."
I bite her neck again, harder this time, tasting the copper tang of blood. "Do it. Now."
She explodes around me. Her pussy convulses, waves of pleasure rippling through her, milking my cock. She whispers my name, her voice cracking, her fingers gripping my shoulders so hard it hurts.
The sensation of her coming undone pushes me over the edge. I thrust into her one last time, burying myself as deep as I can go, and I let go.
My vision whites out. I roar, a guttural sound of release and possession, as I empty myself inside her.
Pulse after pulse of hot cum spurts into her channel, filling her up.
I hold her tight, my hips jerking reflexively as I ride out the aftershocks, marking her as mine in the most primal way possible.
We slump against the wall sitting exhausted, breathing heavy our chests heaving, our hearts racing in sync. The air is thick with the smell of sex—sweat and cum and the lingering scent of her perfume. It’s the best thing I’ve ever smelled.
I bury my face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent, feeling the rapid thrum of her pulse against my lips.
For a moment, the rage is gone. The darkness outside the windows doesn’t matter. The threats don’t matter. There’s only this. Only her.
She strokes my hair, her fingers gentle now, combing through the damp strands. It’s a stark contrast to the anger and rage of just moments ago, but it feels just as necessary.
"Okay?" she whispers, her voice hoarse.
I lift my head to look at her. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips swollen and red from my kisses. She looks thoroughly fucked. She looks beautiful.
"Yeah," I say, my voice rough. "I'm okay."
She smiles, a small, crooked thing that makes my chest tight. "Good. Because I'm not letting you go."
I lean in and kiss her, softer this time. A slow, lingering brush of lips that tastes of promise and belonging.
"You're stuck with me, Nova," I murmur against her mouth. "Forever."
She pulls back slightly, her eyes searching mine. "Then you better be ready to fight for me, Romeo. Because I'm not going anywhere."
I grip her chin, tilting her face up. "I'll burn the world down before I let anyone take you from me."
She laughs, a low, breathless sound. "I know you will. That's why I'm here."
We sit there on the floor of the hallway, tangled together in the aftermath, letting the silence settle back around us.
But it’s not heavy anymore. It’s not a weight.
It’s a shield. The darkness is still outside, but in here, in the circle of her arms, I’m exactly where I’m meant to be. And I’m never leaving.
I hold her against my chest. I listen. The hum of the security system. The distant rhythm of Tomás breathing. The faint shift of Marisol turning in her sleep, her body still restless even in the deep hours.
My family. Chosen. Assembled from wreckage and stubbornness and a gas station wedding dress and a napkin note that says you're my favorite weirdo. Someone photographed them like targets on a range.
I stare at the ceiling. Nova's heartbeat pulses against my ribs, steady as a drum.
Whatever comes through that door next is going to meet a man who has found everything worth keeping.
And a man with everything to lose is the most dangerous thing alive.