30. Chapter 30
Chapter 30
S he was flushed and spread out beneath him, skin glowing, chest heaving, pupils blown wide. Her body still trembled from the last orgasm he’d dragged out of her—hands shaking, lips parted like she was struggling to breathe.
Isaac wasn’t done.
Not even close.
He gripped her chin and tilted her head back toward him, eyes burning into hers. “You ever use a toy when you thought about me?”
Her mouth opened, closed. Then—soft, breathless—“Yes.”
His voice dropped. “Show me.”
She reached for the nightstand. The drawer creaked open, and her hand closed around a slim, pale-pink vibrator. She hesitated just a beat, then placed it in his hand.
Isaac looked at it, then at her. “You used this?”
Rosie nodded, cheeks flushing darker.
He exhaled through his nose, sharp and full of something dangerous. “Turn over.”
She obeyed immediately, flipping onto her stomach, trusting him completely.
“Pillow,” he ordered.
Rosie grabbed one and shoved it under her hips. Isaac adjusted it with both hands, lifting her ass higher, angling her just the way he wanted. She was open now—exposed, vulnerable, perfect.
“You have no idea what this does to me,” he muttered, voice thick with restraint as he clicked the toy on to low and slid it beneath her, nestling it between her thighs so it pressed right where she needed it.
She gasped, hips twitching at the vibration.
“Don’t move,” he said, firm. Possessive.
Then he knelt behind her, gripping her hips so tightly she’d wear the bruises tomorrow, and thrust into her—slow, deep, brutal.
“Fuck.”
The word ripped out of him as her heat closed around him. He braced one hand on the headboard, the other gripping her waist like he could pin her soul to the mattress.
Every thrust was a brand.
Every stroke a mark.
Isaac was buried deep, grinding into her slow and rough, his jaw clenched against the ache in his ribs. Her moans were high and frantic now, the toy beneath her only adding fuel to the fire.
It fucking burned.
Every movement burned through his side like a warning.
But he didn’t stop.
Couldn’t.
Not with Rosie like this—open, writhing, whispering his name like a prayer and a curse.
“You think about me like this?” he ground out. “You lie in your bed and touch yourself thinking about my cock inside you?”
“Yes—Isaac—God, yes—”
He leaned down, pressing his chest to her back, hand tangled in her hair now, yanking her head to the side so he could kiss her mouth from above.
“You’re mine,” he growled. “You hear me? This body—this pussy—mine.”
“Yes—yours—”
The words shattered him.
He drove into her harder, deeper, the pain in his ribs a distant scream under the roar in his blood. He didn’t stop. Wouldn’t stop. Not until he’d left her wrecked and full and unable to forget who she belonged to.
The toy buzzed between them, her thighs shaking, her whimpers breaking into sobs of pleasure.
“Come again,” he demanded, voice ragged. “Now.”
And she did.
She screamed his name, convulsing beneath him, and Isaac followed, slamming into her once, twice, before emptying himself with a groan so deep it sounded like a threat. Pain and pleasure collided in a flash of white heat.
When it was over, he collapsed onto her back, panting, still inside her, his arms wrapped around her like chains.
Mine.
He kissed her shoulder, her spine, the side of her neck.
And whispered it again. “Mine.”
And even through the fire in his ribs, even through the haze of it all, he knew—
There was no going back. She’d just let him in. Not just her body—he’d had that. Was buried in it. But everything else. The way she looked at him. The way she opened her mouth for him. The way she let him push her past her own limits—without hesitation. Without fear.
Rosie was curled into him, her skin still hot and damp, their legs tangled under the twisted sheets. The room smelled like sweat and sex, and the quiet was heavy—full of adrenaline fading, lungs still catching up. Isaac could feel her heartbeat against his chest, her breath slowing against his throat.
He ran a hand down her spine, slick and smooth. She shivered. He pulled her in tighter, kissed her hairline.
“Let’s stay in bed,” he said quietly. “All day. Fuck the world.”
She shifted. Not away, just enough to rest her chin on his chest. “I can’t.”
Isaac opened one eye. “Wrong answer.”
“I’m serious,” she said. “I have to go. This afternoon—I’m doing a preview event in East L.A. for the mentorship pilot. The one at the youth center Greg’s foundation funds.”
He was quiet for half a beat.
Then: “Cool. I’ll drive.”
Rosie blinked up at him. “What? No. You’re not coming.”
Isaac stared down at her, unrushed. “Why not?”
“Because it’s not—” She pulled away a little more, brow furrowed. “It’s not something you need to come to. It’s my thing.”
He shrugged, calm, like he wasn’t about to drop a bomb. “You’re my girlfriend now. I go where you go.”
That stopped her.
She sat up a little, sheet dropping from her chest. “What?”
He sat up, too, bare and unbothered, propped on one arm. “I said you’re my girlfriend.”
“Since when?”
“Since just now.” He gave her a smirk. “This is happening.”
She stared at him, disbelief radiating from every inch. He could see the battle behind her eyes—how badly she wanted to believe him and how deeply she didn’t.
“Isaac,” she said softly, eyes sharp now. “You just have to say something like that and it’s real?”
He leaned in, kissed her shoulder. “You want this. Don’t pretend you don’t.”
Her voice caught. “I do.”
“Then you just have to trust me.”
She looked down. “But you’ll never love me back, right?”
That one stung more than he wanted to admit.
He exhaled. “Every girlfriend I’ve ever had had a three-month shelf life. Like clockwork. The minute they said ‘I love you,’ I was already out the door. Because I couldn’t say it back. I couldn’t even lie about it.”
She traced one of the tattoos on his ribs—right near where it still ached from the dive. Her fingertip was soft and slow, but her silence was heavier than anything she was doing with her hands.
“But I’ve known you for twenty-five years,” he added. “It’s not the same. You’re not the same.”
“I need to know,” she said after a moment. “That you’re capable of being in love with me. That this isn’t some sick thing where you’re using me for sex because I’m convenient. I’ve had enough of that.”
He met her eyes. “That’s a whole lot of childhood trauma, Coco.”
She flinched slightly at the name, but didn’t tell him to stop. Her fingers were still on his skin, drawing patterns into the ink.
“You’re my girlfriend,” he said again, steadier this time. “We’re together. It might not be the perfect answer, but it’s the honest one. You just have to let it go where it goes. You just have to let me try.”
She swallowed, voice small. “So I just give you the chance to break my heart?”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he pulled her into his chest again, wrapped his arms around her back, held her close.
His mouth brushed the top of her head. “A long time ago, one night, I promised I’d never let anyone hurt you.”
He paused, breathed her in.
“That includes me. That—I can promise.”