27. Chapter Twenty-Seven #2
He leans forward and kisses me with every starving part of himself.
His tongue slides against mine, swallowing every sound I make.
His body drives into me again and again with a rhythm that is dirty.
The bed moves beneath us. The room narrows down to heat, sweat, and the obscene sound of him fucking me properly this time. The way he should have the first time.
“I’ve got you,” he says against my mouth. “I’ve fucking got you, Wills.”
My body starts to tighten again, pleasure building too fast, too soon, because he already dragged one orgasm out of me with his mouth and fingers. Now every deep stroke of his cock is landing in exactly the place he has clearly made it his personal mission to ruin.
He senses it as well.
“Already?” he murmurs.
“Shut up.”
His hips drive forward. “No, I want your tight little pussy coming on my cock. I want every fucking piece of you, Wills. All of it. Give it to me.”
A moan tears out of me so loud I should be embarrassed about it.
His eyes never leave mine as his hand slides down over my stomach, past my hip, fingers spreading warm against my skin until his thumb finds my clit.
“Fuck,” I say.
Phoenix does it again. His thumb flicks softly on my clit while his cock drives into me deep. The two sensations combine into something my body has absolutely no defense against.
“That’s it,” he says, watching my face the whole time. “There’s my girl.”
His thumb moves over my clit, matching the deep filthy rhythm of his thrusts, giving me no room to breathe or think. No room to do anything except feel every sensation he is giving me.
My thighs tremble around his hips.
I lift my hands and drag my nails down his arms—hard enough to leave marks.
He groans as if the pain were a reward.
I’m close. My whole body is climbing toward something bigger and more dangerous than anything physical because there is emotion beneath it now.
He fucks me like he has been thinking about it for years and has catalogued every sound I make. I sense every ridge of his cock dragging through me before he drives back in hard.
“You feel like a fucking dream,” he says, his hips snapping forward.
“You feel like something I conjured up while missing you and too much of a fucking coward to pick up the phone.” He fucks into me harder now, the headboard finding the wall.
“I want to feel you soak my cock the way you soaked my mouth. I want you coming so fucking hard you forget every other person who has ever been inside you because after tonight, Wills, I am the only one you are going to remember.”
My orgasm hits hard. It tears through me. Pleasure so brutal it steals every sound I have for a suspended second before ripping a moan from me that I’ll think about for a long time.
My back arches. My thighs lock around his hips so tight he groans as my pussy clamps down around his cock in waves, clenching and releasing, pulling him deeper, and I feel every pulse of it from the inside out.
Phoenix curses and then moans, every muscle in his body going rigid as he holds himself back, and fucks me through it. He keeps moving, dragging every last wave of pleasure through me.
“That’s it,” he grits out, his voice shot to pieces. “Fuck, Willow.” His hips drive forward, hard, once, twice. “That’s it. Come all over my cock.”
I do.
Pleasure keeps pulsing through me in waves I can’t control. He watches every second of it with a look so intense it almost feels like worship. If worship had a dirty mouth and a grip hard enough to leave marks on my hips that I will find tomorrow and not be sorry about.
When I start to come down, he slows but doesn’t stop.
My body is too oversensitive, every nerve ending raw and sparking.
He leans in and kisses the corner of my mouth.
“Too much?” he asks.
I shake my head.
His mouth curves. “Hold on. I’m taking what I fucking need now.”
A shiver moves through me so strongly that my toes curl.
He shifts, hooking my leg higher, opening me wider beneath him, and the new angle makes us both exhale sharply.
Every stroke draws a sound from me I can’t swallow.
He draws it out, refusing to let me hide from how badly I still want him.
I should be embarrassed by how I cling to him. But I’m not.
I let myself experience the weight of him. The heat of him. Hear the things he mutters against my skin, all dirty talk and hunger and possession, a running filthy commentary that bypasses my brain entirely and goes straight to my pussy.
He looks down between us. At where his cock is sliding into me, my pussy stretched around him, wet and swollen and taking every inch he gives me.
He watches for a moment before a smirk appears.
“Such a pretty fucking mess,” he says, voice rough and deeply satisfied. “You have any idea what my cock looks like fucking you? Sliding in and out of your soaked pussy as if it was made for me.”
He looks back up at me with dark eyes, dirty mouth, and all that devastating certainty. “Because it always was, wasn’t it, Wills.”
I nod because I don’t know what it looks like. I only know the sensation he is giving me.
“You are mine,” he says.
The words hang there and I wait for the smirk, the pivot, and for Phoenix to turn it into something he can survive. But he just rests his forehead against mine, breathing hard.
My fingers find his jaw.
“I have wanted to fuck you like this for so fucking long that it has made me crazy,” he says, closing his eyes. “You have no idea how many times I have thought about having you like this, Wills.”
There’s a shift in him. The way his hands hold me instead of gripping me. The way his mouth finds mine like he needs it rather than wants it. This is not fucking. This is something else entirely. Something that scares me even more.
He pulls back and looks at me with dark brown eyes and his rhythm changes.
He fucks me hard, his hips driving into me with enough force to move the bed beneath us.
He is so much rougher now. Hungrier. As if the careful, controlled version of him has run out of patience and what’s left underneath is this.
The pressure builds again.
He smirks, clearly proud of himself. “Ready to give me another fucking one?”
He draws it out of me, piece by piece, reading every tremble, ragged breath, and every desperate, broken sound I can’t hold back.
His body is slick with sweat above mine, but he doesn’t slow. His muscles are shaking with the effort of fucking me. With every curse, he presses hot against my skin.
My whole body locks beneath him, back arching, thighs clamping. My moan breaks apart into his mouth as my pussy throbs around his cock.
“Fuck,” he growls against my mouth. “That’s my fucking girl. Give it to me.”
His voice is the last thing I hear clearly before pleasure takes the rest of me.
“Fuck,” he growls. “I wish I could experience you bare, fill this pretty pussy, and watch you drip my cum for the rest of the night. Make sure you know exactly who fucked you.”
His body locks up.
I perceive the exact point when he loses it.
His rhythm stutters. His head drops, and I watch his face.
His jaw locks, eyes squeeze shut, brows furrowed, like he’s fighting it and losing spectacularly.
Every muscle stripped of the smirk and the swagger.
His hips stall and his cock pulses inside me as he comes.
Helpless shudders move through his body.
His mouth falls open and for one second there is no sound at all.
Then a groan tears out of him. My name is tangled somewhere in it. His hips grind slowly through every wave as if his body has taken over completely.
He looks nothing like the man the world thinks it knows.
For a long time, there is only breathing.
Mine.
His.
The room settles around us as if it, too, is waiting to see what happens next.
That is when the fear slides in.
The last time ended with him pulling away and leaving me exposed in a way that had nothing to do with being naked. My body remembers that moment.
The second my body goes still beneath his, Phoenix’s eyes find mine. All that post-sex haze is gone and replaced with something else entirely.
He eases his cock out of me. He gets up, deals with the condom, and is back before I have finished convincing myself to turn away, make myself small, and pretend tonight was something I can file neatly away and survive without damage.
He lies down facing me. He pulls me into his chest, close enough that I can feel his heartbeat still racing against mine.
His hand comes up, pushing the hair back from my face. He tips my chin up so I have nowhere to look but at him.
“I’m here,” he says. “I told you I’d fucking learn to stay. I meant it, Wills. Every fucking word.”
He presses his mouth to mine.
When I pull back, I tuck my face into the side of his neck, my nose against his skin, breathing him in.
His arm tightens around me and for once in his life, he stays.