Chapter Thirty-Four #2
He works deeper. Through the burn. Until his knuckles nest against me and I’m full in a way that claws past physical.
Another finger—rougher this time. My thighs spread wider.
He nips my nape. Licks away the sting. His thumb glides over my clit in a lazy, too-soft stroke.
Fuck. I ride his hand.
“Look at you. Taking me like you fucking missed this.”
I whimper. Because I did.
He’s not just opening my body—he’s proving I can still feel after everything.
His fingers slip free with a wet sound, leaving me aching. Empty.
His cock slides up the cleft of my ass.
The tip presses in—blunt, insistent. My mouth goes dry.
He groans into the curve of my spine.
I clench on instinct. His weight keeps me from bucking him off.
“Relax,” he coos. “Let me in.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, fighting the pull—trying not to return to that altar, the cameras, the stains—
“It’s just me, Payton.” A low, soothing rumble in his throat. “Just us.”
He works past the resistance and finally stops moving—the thick head of his cock lodged inside my ass.
His body covers mine, one hand locked around my wrist, the other teasing my clit.
“Ready?”
I nod frantically, the mattress biting into my cheek.
One long, hard thrust and he’s in.
The stretch steals the air from my lungs. All at once, he’s everywhere—above me, inside me, around me.
It burns. It hurts, but hell, I’d take this fire a thousand times over waking up alone.
“Okay?” he rasps.
I nod, unable to speak, too full. Of him. Of everything we’ve held back.
He moves—quick, hot thrusts at first, then deeper, harder—the rhythm somehow new and familiar at once. My nipples rub against the mattress with each stroke.
The burn’s gone, replaced by white-hot need. I bite down on a curse. Grind back against him.
His teeth graze my nape. “That’s it. Take my cock.”
He drives in harder, stretching me until I see stars.
“Shh … You can take it, little fox. Take every last thing I have.”
“Yes … please. Kade. I’m yours. Fuck.”
“Damn right. Your pretty little pussy’s made for my cock. This perfect ass? Already mine. Every scream? Fucking earned.”
“Fuck—yes,” I moan into the mattress. “It’s yours. I’m yours. Just—don’t stop.”
“I’ll never stop. I’ll carve it into you—every fucking inch. Brand you where no one else gets to touch. You’ll feel me in your bones.” He fists my hair and yanks. “Now show me how good my dirty little slut can take it.”
He slams into me. My head falls back on a broken moan.
“Touch yourself.”
I do, fingers finding my clit, rubbing fast.
“Gonna come inside you,” he growls. “In your ass. Watch my cum drip from this tight little hole—then lick you clean. You want that, little fox? Want to be so ruined you forget every name but mine?”
My moan’s ragged. Incoherent. But fuck, yes—
Yes to the way his hand slides down my throat. To how he claims every inch of me with teeth and tongue. To his voice and filthy promises. To his cock buried deep, stretching me open, owning me until I break. To the only thing that’s ever truly made me feel whole.
Until I finally feel—
Like his.
Like me again.
I slip over the edge—unraveling.
“Good girl,” he pants, kissing my spine. “Fuck, I’m coming.”
He holds me there—hands pinning my hips, teeth locked in my shoulder, his thrusts shallow.
“So full,” he rasps, pulsing deep inside me. “So perfect.”
I’m boneless. Burning. Brain fogged.
He pulls out slow. “Stay still.”
I don’t move. Can’t.
More hot spurts hit my lower back.
He drags a finger through the mess—tracing one letter at a time across my skin in uneven strokes.
M-I-N-E
He licks a stripe up my spine.
“I should tattoo it on you,” he murmurs. “So you never forget.”
The sting of his teeth dulls first. The stretch of him lingers longer. But the burn of his claim on my skin? That might never fade—
—and fuck if I want it to.
***
I’m sprawled on the mattress, hazy and drifting and warm in the places that matter.
Kade’s back, crouching beside me on the mattress. He’s thrown on his sweatpants—bare torso still gleaming with sweat and gloriously on display. A towel slung over his shoulder. Water bottle in one hand. The other filled with random snacks—chips, a banana, a melted protein bar. Double Stuf Oreos.
A faint laugh escapes me. “Did you rob a vending machine?”
“Pantry. Max’s stash too.” His gaze sweeps over me, stretched out and bare except for his shirt half-pulled over me. “Figured you’d need something.”
He sets everything down and leans in. The towel’s warm, damp. He wipes me clean with slow, steady hands. My breasts. My belly. Between my legs, gentle even when I flinch.
His fingers pause between my thighs. “Hurts?”
I shake my head. It’s not pain. It’s how careful he is. Like I’m something precious.
“I can carry you to my room upstairs. If you want.”
“Here’s good.”
“Yeah?” His mouth curves faintly. “Me too.”
He climbs in beside me. Tugs a blanket over both of us.
“Kade?” I snuggle into him. “Can I ask you something?”
“Shoot.”
“Why’d you say no? Back when I asked you out.”
“Because I didn’t think I deserved you.”
My body’s wrecked. My heart’s cracked open.
“Max’s dad—Robert—was beating him. Cheating on my mom. One night, I just … snapped.” He swallows. “I killed him, Payton. Buried the body. Told them he left.”
The pre-Verge version of me would’ve flinched. But that girl’s gone.
“I think my mom always knew.” A muscle ticks in his jaw. “She never said it, but she hates me.”
His eyes finally meet mine. “Do you?”
“Not at all. Thank you for telling me.”
He exhales—like something in him finally unclenches. His hand finds mine under the blanket.
“One more thing.”
“Yeah?”
“Should I start calling you Ben when you’re being soft?”
He gives me a look. “Try it and see what happens.”
When he kisses the top of my head and offers me half an Oreo, I think—
Maybe we’ll be okay.
This isn’t the stuff of dreamy love songs.
But it’s real. It’s ours.
It’ll damn well stay—demons, scars, and all.