43. Ellie #2
He pushes in with one slow thrust, his eyes never leaving mine, forcing me to hold his gaze as he fills me.
The stretch burns in the best way, and I groan, my fingers digging into his back to pull him deeper.
His forehead presses to mine, both of us panting, our skin searing where it touches.
Then he begins to move. Long, slow strokes that drag against every nerve ending, giving me exactly what I need while making it clear he's the one providing the power.
His thrusts are deep, wrenching rough sounds from both of us.
His mouth finds my throat, his teeth scraping over the hammering pulse there, his hands hitching my thighs higher to change the angle.
Water rains down, but I only feel the grind of his hips, the way every thrust pushes the noise in my head further away.
There's a slow, aching heat building low in my stomach, tightening with every stroke, and I can feel myself clenching around him, my body pulling him deeper.
My nails rake down his back, leaving marks I'll see on his skin tomorrow.
I don't care. I want to mark him. I want to be marked.
His hand slides up to grip my throat, not squeezing, but holding.
Claiming. His eyes devour me, dark and intense, and I feel the knot in my stomach tighten.
Then he kisses me, deep and slow, swallowing the sounds I'm making as he drives into me.
It's tender and brutal all at once, and everything inside me cracks open.
"Harder," I gasp.
His eyes flash. He slams into me with a force that shoves the air from my lungs, pinning me against the tile so hard I can feel the cold seeping through my spine even as the rest of me burns.
His hips roll against mine, each thrust deeper and rougher than the last, hitting a spot inside me that makes my vision white out at the edges.
The sounds we're making are obscene. The wet slap of skin, my choked moans, his ragged breathing as he pounds into me like he's trying to climb inside my body and never leave.
One hand grips my thigh, hitching it higher, spreading me wider, and the new angle makes me cry out, my head falling back against the tile as I feel myself unraveling.
"Come for me," he growls against my ear, his teeth grazing the shell. "I want to feel you come."
I'm right there, teetering on the edge, every muscle in my body wound so tight I can barely breathe.
He bites down on my shoulder, his teeth sinking into my skin, and that sharp sting of pain is exactly what I need.
I shatter. The orgasm rips through me in waves, my whole body seizing around him as I cry out his name.
I'm clenching so hard I can feel every inch of him, every pulse and throb as my body tries to pull him deeper.
"Fuck," he grits out, his hips stuttering, his grip on my thigh turning bruising.
He drives into me one last time, burying himself to the hilt, and I feel him lose control.
His whole body shudders as he comes inside me with an animalistic sound that vibrates through my chest. He pulses deep, his forehead dropping to my shoulder, his breath ragged and hot against my skin as we both tremble through the aftershocks.
"Holy fuck," he growls against my skin.
We stay like that for a minute, me still wrapped around him, his forehead pressed to my shoulder, the water running down his back.
Neither of us moves. I can feel his heart slamming against my chest, gradually slowing to match mine.
My legs are shaking so badly I don't think I could stand on my own if I tried, and he doesn't seem to be in any hurry to let me.
When he pulls back, his eyes find mine. His thumb brushes my cheek. A small, tender gesture that doesn't match the way he just wrecked me.
"You okay?" he asks, his voice low and worn.
I take him in. The water streaming down his chest, the dark ink that maps his skin, the hard lines of his jaw soften ever so slightly as he waits for my answer.
This man—this terrifying, patient, devastatingly beautiful man—has waited for me.
Through every flinch, every nightmare, every time I couldn't bear to be touched.
He never pushed. He stayed, and he waited, and now he's looking at me like I'm the only thing in the world worth seeing. I have no idea how I got this lucky.
"More than okay," I breathe.
He reaches behind me and shuts off the water. He lets me slide down slowly until my feet hit the tile, keeping one heavy arm locked around my waist to support my shaking legs.
He grabs a towel and wraps it around me, rubbing the water from my skin with a gentleness that doesn't seem possible for a man as big as him.
Then he tosses the towel aside, scoops me up, and carries me to the bed.
He lays me down carefully, then climbs in beside me and pulls me against his chest, his arm locking around my waist like he's afraid I'll disappear if he lets go.
Neither of us says anything. His chest rises and falls against mine, my heart finally slowing to match his.
I feel emptied out in the best way. Clean.
Like he fucked the last of the basement right out of me.
I press my face into the hollow of his shoulder, breathing in the scent of him. The shaking has stopped. The voices are gone. Tomorrow, I'll face Julian in that basement from a position of strength he won't expect. Tonight, I've reclaimed the last piece of myself they tried to steal.
"I love you," he murmurs against my hair.
I press my lips to his chest, right over his heart. "I love you too."
I close my eyes, my fingers trace the stubborn, steady beat of his heart. His arm tightens around me.
And for the first time since the cellar, the silence finally belongs to me.