Chapter 32 #3
He growled, low in his throat, and pushed her hand away to roll on the condom. He positioned himself at her entrance, the broad head pressing against her sensitive flesh.
“Look at me when I take you.”
She held his gaze as he pushed in, inch by excruciating inch, until he filled her completely. The stretch was intense—perfectly intense. He paused, buried to the hilt, his body trembling with restraint, with sweat beading on his forehead.
“Christ, you feel so good.”
“So do you.” She flexed around him, drawing a ragged groan from his chest. “Move, Ty. Please.”
He withdrew almost completely, then slammed back in. The force drove the air from her lungs. He set a brutal pace, each thrust deep and claiming. The bedframe rattled against the wall. He braced himself on his forearms, caging her in, his eyes never leaving hers.
“Mine,” he gritted out.
“Yours.” She wrapped her legs around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back, meeting him thrust for thrust. The slap of skin on skin, his ragged breaths, her own whimpers—it was primal and overwhelming, and she loved it. “Harder. More.”
He obeyed, driving into her with relentless force.
One hand slid between them, his thumb finding her clit, rubbing in tight, insistent circles.
White-hot pleasure drove her onward, and she cried out, her nails scoring his shoulders as she came, her inner muscles clamping down on him in rhythmic pulses.
“Look at me,” he growled against her lips, his rhythm relentless. “I want to see you.”
She forced her eyes open, drowning in the dark intensity of his stare.
His thrusts grew sharper, deeper, each one a deliberate claim that pushed her higher.
The friction burned, delicious and unbearable.
She clutched his shoulders, her nails digging into hard muscle as the pressure built, a storm gathering in her belly.
“Tyrone—" Her voice broke.
“Come for me.” His command was low, rough, vibrating through her chest. “Again. Now, Glens.”
She shattered. White light exploded behind her eyelids as her body convulsed around him, wave after wave of ecstasy tearing through her. She cried out, a sound swallowed by his kiss, her hips lifting frantically against his as he rode her through it, never slowing, never softening.
Before the tremors fully subsided, he shifted. One strong hand slid between their sweat-slicked bodies, his thumb finding her swollen clit. The contact was electric, almost too much after the intensity of her climaxes. She whimpered, oversensitive, trying to twist away.
“Shh.” He pinned her hips down with his own, his thumb circling with ruthless precision. “Stay with me.” His thrusts slowed but deepened, grinding against her in a way that reignited the fire. “You can take more.”
She shook her head, too breathless to find many words. “Too much?—”
“Never.” His eyes burned into hers. “You’re mine.
All of you.” His thumb pressed harder, circling faster while his hips maintained that deep, rolling rhythm.
Pleasure began to build again, impossibly fast. It wasn’t the slow, sweet build of before; it was a desperate climb, fueled by his relentless touch and the sheer, overwhelming fullness of him.
“Please,” she gasped, torn between pushing into his hand and arching away. “Tyrone?—"
“Tell me.” His voice was gritted and strained. Sweat dripped from his temple onto her collarbone. “Tell me you want it.”
“I want it!” The raw and needy admission tore from her. “I want you!”
He bent his head, capturing her nipple in his mouth, sucking hard.
The assault of his mouth on her breast, his thumb on her clit, and the deep, grinding thrusts was too much.
It stole her breath and her vision. She screamed, her body bowing off the bed, every muscle locking as the climax ripped through her with brutal force.
Stars burst behind her eyelids, and for a terrifying, glorious second, she felt weightless, suspended in pure sensation.
Tyrone groaned, a deep, guttural sound of satisfaction, his hips never stopping their relentless drive. He watched her unravel, his gaze fierce and possessive, drinking in every tremor, every choked gasp.
As the last aftershocks trembled through her, leaving her limp and boneless beneath him, he lowered his forehead to hers, his breathing harsh and ragged.
“That’s my girl,” he murmured.
His thrusts grew faster, losing some of their controlled precision, becoming more urgent and desperate.
The bedframe creaked in protest, and his muscles corded under her hands, trembling with the effort of holding back.
She felt the tension coiling in him, the raw power barely leashed. His eyes held hers.
“So close.”
His groan vibrated against her throat as he buried himself deep and held there, his entire body rigid against hers.
Heat flooded her while his hands gripped her hips.
She clung to him, her fingers tangled in the damp hair at his nape, breathing in the scent of something uniquely him that had become as essential to her as the air she needed to survive.
Her entire world narrowed to the hammering of his heart against her breastbone, the slick heat between them, and the ragged harmony of their breaths.
Then Tyrone collapsed onto her, his weight a crushing, comforting anchor.
He buried his face in the curve of her neck, his lips moving against her skin in a soundless murmur she felt more than heard.
His arms slid beneath her, locking her against him as if she might dissolve.
“Glens,” he rasped, the word thick with exhaustion and something else—awe, maybe, or disbelief.
She traced the tense line of his shoulder blade with a fingertip. “Still alive?”
A huff of laughter warmed her skin. “Barely.” He lifted his head just enough to meet her eyes. The intensity hadn’t faded; if anything, it had deepened, stripped bare of lust and replaced with a terrifying vulnerability. “You?”
“Feels like I got hit by a truck.” She managed a shaky smile. “A really thorough, really enthusiastic truck.”
His thumb brushed her cheekbone, rough skin catching on the delicate flesh. “Regrets?”
“Not a single one.” Glenna’s head rested on his chest while his fingers moved lazily along her spine. The room had gone quiet except for the distant hum of traffic beyond the windows and Tyrone’s heartbeat beneath her ear.
For once, neither of them needed to get up. Nobody was missing. Nobody was waiting for intel. No alarm was about to drag a team into the war-room. Sullivan was in custody. Kelsey was safe in Italy with people who would burn the world down before allowing anybody near her again.
“What?”
Glenna smiled against his skin. “You always know when I'm smiling?”
“I can feel it.”
“That’s kinda creepy.”
“You love me.”
“Umm…”
His hand came down against her ass in a light swat. Glenna laughed and shifted higher until she could look at him. The exhaustion in his face had returned now that adrenaline had finally let go, but there was something peaceful there too.
“What happens now?”
The question had followed them for weeks. Every time they solved one disaster, something else had been waiting.
Tyrone looked at her. “Now?”
“Yeah.”
She could see he was thinking about how to answer, then his mouth curved into a seriously sexy smile.
“We go home. We figure out the paperwork,” he said after a moment. “Whatever residency route works without rushing anything. We get your boxes shipped. We make sure Kelsey has everything she needs.”
“And us?”
His hand stopped, and she lifted her head to peer up at him. He looked at her like she had personally insulted his intelligence. “You really asking me that?”
“Maybe.”
“You’re stuck with me.”
“That wasn’t technically an answer.”
“Fine.” He rolled, taking her with him until she found herself pinned beneath him again, although the softness in his eyes ruined any attempt at intimidation. “You and me. Kelsey. Home. Whatever comes after that, we do it together.”
Her heart squeezed.
“And when the visa runs out?”
His eyes narrowed. “Don’t start.”
Glenna smiled sweetly. “I’m asking a legitimate legal question.”
“Glenna.”
Tyrone stared at her. She could almost see him trying to decide whether throttling the woman he loved would ruin the moment. “I remember exactly what I said.”
“Excellent.”
“You are not getting a proposal in a hotel bed because you’re harassing me about immigration.”
“Did I ask for one?”
“Your face did.”
“My face needs to learn to stop giving you subtitles.” She caught the pillow and hit him with it.
Tyrone laughed as he took it away and tossed it across the room, then dropped back beside her and pulled her against him.
She settled into his arms. The future wasn’t completely solved, but none of it frightened her the way it once would have.
She wasn’t standing alone anymore, and this time she didn’t need Tyrone to tell her that. She knew.
His breathing had begun to slow behind her when Glenna threaded her fingers through his where they rested against her stomach.
“Tyrone?”
“Mmm?”
“I meant it.”
His arm tightened around her. “I know, Glens.”
“I love you.”
His lips touched the back of her shoulder.
“Love you, too.”
Tomorrow they would call Kelsey, figure out flights, deal with whatever practical stuff waited, and start moving toward the life they’d chosen.
Tonight, there was nowhere they needed to go.
For the first time since Tyrone had exploded into her life, the only thing waiting for them in the morning was home, and she couldn’t wait.