Chapter 26
SUNDAY
Lou grins as I order the food. “It’s good to see you both happy again.”
“I couldn’t help myself. One look was all it took. I’m a disgrace.”
She shrugs. “Then join the disgrace club, honey. We have all been there. It’s impossible not to join because the heart does what the head hates.
It sets you up for marriage. You hate the asshole you married but also love him with your entire soul.
It’s a conflict that never gets resolved, so don’t beat yourself up about what is inevitable. ”
She winks as she serves two plates of everything.
“Now go and feed that man, and I won’t expect to see you working today.”
I say nothing, merely smile, and as I turn away, I thank God that the break is over. At least this one, anyway. I’m positive I’ll be super angry with Razor in record time, probably, and yet Lou is right. The heart wins every single time and probably always will where he is involved.
At first, it’s a little awkward. Conversation is almost non-existent where he is concerned. We eat, maintain eye contact, and the conversation is in the unspoken words that pass between us like telepathy.
I’m not even sure what this is. It’s not a relationship—not in the normal sense of the word, but it is something, and I can’t walk away from it.
I want him. It’s simple, and the past couple of days have been miserable. If all I get is this, it will have to do because it’s better than not having him at all.
We finish up, and I wonder what happens next.
If he asks me to accompany him to his room, I probably would.
I’ve missed his rough touch, his dirty kisses and his cock inside me, but as always, I want more than that.
I would like to get to know the man behind the huge beard, and yet he makes it impossible to.
As we head out of the cafeteria, I’m quiet because I have no clue as to where we go from here, and I’m surprised when his hand finds mine and he leans down and whispers, “I missed you, darlin’.”
Simple words and gestures mean a lot coming from him and I smile. “Me too.”
The deep yearning in his eyes reaches out and controls every part of me. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for this man who hides his past like a well-guarded secret.
“Do you have plans for today?”
He asks, his eyes burning into mine, and I shake my head. “No.”
He nods, as if satisfied with that, and then adds, “So, would it be in bad taste if I asked you to my room?”
“Probably.”
I shrug, wishing I didn’t want him as much as I do right now, wishing I could make him work harder to give me what I want.
“That’s a maybe, then.”
His eyes twinkle and I sigh deeply.
“I wish I wasn’t attracted to you, Razor. God help me, but I’m burning up here.”
His sudden smile destroys any lingering doubts, and he grips my hand and pulls me swiftly toward the Reaper block.
I don’t listen to my head screaming at me to walk away, my heart fluttering like a virgin as I anticipate a few hour’s pleasure that I have sorely missed.
We reach his condo and as we fall through the door, I am stripping off my clothes while he does the same before the door is fully closed.
God, I’ve missed this man, and in my darkest hour, I imagined I would never experience his touch again.
That my memories would have to suffice, which is why I’m grateful for another shot at the beast.
He grips my face roughly and punishes me with a deep, sexy kiss that causes every nerve inside me to stand to attention. I swear my toes even curl as my heart bangs inside me and as his rough hands slide to my thigh, my pussy is already throbbing, desperate for release.
He pushes me back against the wall, his cock pressing against my pussy, and I moan as his teeth nip my neck, his tongue trailing down toward my nipple.
He sucks on it hard, his other hand drifting toward my clit, his huge muscles rippling against my skin, his scent musky and tinged with self-loathing.
I can’t deny him and I can’t deny myself this pleasure because having this man’s attention is worth way more than a mere conversation.
It’s all-encompassing, possessive. Brutal even.
It’s as if I am his prey and he is about to swallow me whole.
He drops to his knees, his fingers spreading me wide, his tongue lashing against my aching clit, my fingers tangling in his hair.
I moan as if I’m being taken apart piece by piece by a wild animal, and I suppose I am.
He sucks, licks, and presses down hard, and my orgasm explodes from inside me without warning, almost bringing me to my knees.
I am throbbing for him, desperate for him inside me and he pulls me away from the wall, lowering me onto the floor. He rolls on top of me, no warning at all as he plunges inside my orgasm that is still rocking my world, owning it, claiming it and creating another storm in its wake.
He holds my wrists down on the floor as he pushes up inside me, uncovered, skin against skin, flesh slapping against flesh. I bite my lip, he tugs it into his mouth, wanting all of me, taking it all, thrusting deeper, owning my freaking soul.
“Razor.”
I gasp his name as he pushes in deep, with a slow and steady rhythm, taking his time.
“I’ve missed you, baby.” I whisper against his lips as his tongue flicks inside my mouth, his domination gratefully accepted.
“You are my woman, Sunday. There is nobody else.”
He says the words I’ve wanted to hear but gives no promises other than that.
“I know.”
I’m not lying, I do. I am Razor’s girl, no matter what that involves. I’ve been miserable without him. This is where I belong.
He rolls onto his back, and I sit astride him, riding him, my palms flat against his chest, staring into his eyes, our connection strong.
He presses down on my clit; I bite my lip. He grunts, then tenses, thrusting up harder.
His hands wrap around my waist, and he moves me to his rhythm; I can’t look away.
He commands me with one heavily loaded gaze, one thrust, one promise. He is mine.
I don’t register he is lacking protection; it ceases to matter because I protect myself. I always have. Physically, anyway; mentally, I’m not so sure.
It’s so good having the whole of him. I ride him slower, my tits occasionally drifting into his hungry mouth. I am delirious with desire, and am taking my time, and his low groan tells me I’m torturing him good and proper.
“Sunday.”
His ragged breathing borders on insanity as I bounce up and down on his cock, loving how it fills me, stretches me – completes me.
This time I grip his throat, my gaze fierce, my possession obvious, and I push him in deeper, his heart thumping against his chest.
Then I pull out, lowering further down his body, sucking him into my mouth, savoring my arousal on his throbbing cock.
I slide him in deep, his groan ragged, desperate even as I lick the shaft, my nails digging into his balls.
He pushes in fast, fisting my hair as he controls the rhythm. Fucking my mouth deeper, almost brutally.
His loud roar warns me of the storm about to break, and as he lashes streams of cum fast down my throat, I struggle to keep up with the flow.
I take him. I want him. I consider this a win because accepting my man, every part of him gives me pleasure I never realized was so addictive.
I love every mouthful, swallowing every drop, wishing I could jump off the rollercoaster and run to the top to start it all over again.
I am insatiable. My mind is blown, and as he releases my hair, I fall back onto the floor, staring up at the ceiling, my pussy throbbing, my heart hammering, and my mouth smiling.
“Fuck, I’ve missed you, darlin’.”
His low groan brings a smile to my face, and as his arm slips around my shoulder and pulls me close, our fight is forgotten, our relationship set. I am Razor’s woman. I accept what that means; he is my man, and that is all the label I need.