Chapter Thirty-Three #3
Has, since the second she stepped into my world and ruined me with that bratty mouth and steel spine.
I shove my sweats down, my cock leaking for her.
Her gaze drops. And fuck, I could come from that look alone.
“You gonna cry again before I’m even inside you?” I rasp, stroking myself.
Her legs fall open—like she’s forgotten the rules.
But she knows she’s already won.
Her cunt’s still slick from my mouth. The way she stares at me—like I’m the weapon and the wound—rips the last shred of control right out of me.
I crawl over her, caging her in.
And yeah, it shouldn’t make me harder—knowing I was built to break her, that I still don’t know how to love her—if I even can.
But she pulls me down to her. Our lips brush—a dare wrapped in a kiss.
This time, she doesn’t resist. She takes me—and fuck—my blood ignites, heart hammering a savage beat that goes, Mine, mine, mine.
I guide my cock to her entrance. Nudge in—just the tip.
Her whole body tenses, a choked moan spilling from her lips.
“Say it,” I growl.
Her eyes flash—defiant even now. “Make me.”
I drag the head of my cock through her slick, teasing her clit with each pass. Her nails bite into my shoulders.
Another inch and I’m unraveling—like coming home to a place I don’t deserve. “Tell me you’re mine. That you never stopped being mine.”
“Yours,” she chokes out. “Always yours.”
I slam home. Bury myself to the hilt.
Heat. Heaven. Damnation.
I don’t give her time to adjust. I fuck her deep—hard—grinding her clit with each thrust.
Not enough.
She claws at my back. Heels dig into my ass like she’s trying to brand me from the inside out.
This.
This is how we make sense. We were never gentle. Never safe. Just chaos and need and the ache of almost losing it all.
I brace on one hand, slowing not out of mercy but to feel it. Her. Every squeeze, every tremble.
She wraps around me tighter, and I know she feels it too—this isn’t fucking. This is remembering.
Remembering who we are.
What we survived.
What we still want, even when it burns.
I pull out. Slam in hard.
Her mouth falls open in a silent scream. My name’s on her lips before she can bite it back.
And I want it again. Want all of her.
I grind in deep, hold there.
“Feel that?” I whisper in her ear, breath ragged. “Tell me you don’t miss this. Tell me you don’t want it. Lie to me. I’ll still fuck the truth out of you.”
Her whole body clamps down—half-sob, half-gasp, all mine.
“Say it again,” I growl, bottoming out. “Tell me who you belong to.”
“You,” she cries. “Always—f-ffuck—always you.”
Her hands clutch at me as if I can save her from this, from us, from her own goddamn heart.
She presses her lips to my jaw and I lose it.
I’m so close, so deep inside her I can feel her heartbeat in my teeth.
I fuck her like I can empty out every haunted part of me and fill her with something that won’t rot.
My pace is brutal. She takes it. Gets off on it.
Each thrust drags a broken sound from her throat—half-sob, half-prayer. I swallow it, licking into her like I’m starving.
Five weeks without her taste. Five fucking weeks of waking up hard and aching, fist around my cock, her name caught in my throat.
She shivers. Mewls. Her body locks around me, back arched.
She comes with her lips on mine. Shaking. Clinging.
I fuck her through it—another wave, and another, until she goes liquid. Until she’s limp, spent, soaked.
I pull out—slick, aching—flip her onto her stomach in one fluid motion.
The scent of her—of us—hits me. I’d bottle it if I could. Snort it like the addict I am.
She lifts her hips, ass high, and I lose my goddamn mind.
“Look at you,” I growl, palming her cheeks, spreading her wider. “So fucking needy.”
She moans as I slide back in from behind. Deeper than before. Tighter. Hotter.
Her hands fist in the sheets. Her body takes every inch like it was made for this.
For me.
I haul her up on all fours and pound into her.
And it still isn’t enough.
I drag her upright—back to chest. My mouth finds hers as I piston into her. Every wet slap of skin is a pledge. Every thrust, a confession.
“This what you wanted?” I snarl, keeping one arm locked across her stomach, taking her hard. “Me fucking you like I mean it? Like you’re mine?”
She whimpers.
“You came back”—thrust—“for this”—thrust—“Don’t lie to me.”
“Yes … God. Yes.”
My rhythm falters. Nothing left except the need to finish inside her.
“Come for me,” I rasp, “On my cock. Let me fucking own it.”
She sobs, her cunt fluttering around me like she wants to drag my soul out.
My balls tighten. My mouth crashes into hers. No holding back. Just need. White-hot and holy.
“Want me to stay in?” I grit out.
“Inside me,” she moans, tilting her head. “Don’t stop.”
I slam deep and spill into her—groaning into the crook of her neck, pumping with frantic thrusts until she gets all of me.
I stay buried in her.
Breathing like I’ve just survived a war.
I did.
We did.
When she quivers—pinned under my body and finally, fucking finally, mine—she sobs my name again.
This time, it sounds like forgiveness.