14. Chapter Fourteen #3
“Fuck,” I grit out, teeth clenched.
Goddamn, he’s a beast.
“You can take it,” he murmurs, voice right in my ear.
I breathe out and concentrate on relaxing my muscles to let him in. He slides deeper, inch by inch.
“Almost there. You were made for me, Vi.”
I’ve never been stretched this wide. My body eventually yields, protesting and hungry at the same time. The piercings rub against my sensitive flesh with each small push, sending sharp sparks through me.
He bottoms out, hips flush to mine.
I’m so fucking full.
“That’s my girl.”
He pulls his hips back and snaps them forward. His promise holds. This is hard and fast and filthy. And it’s everything. Years of pent-up fury and want tumble out of us with every thrust.
He drives into me over and over again, fucking me into the carpet.
I can already tell my back and ass are going to be raw with friction burns tomorrow.
Worth it doesn’t even begin to cover it.
He braces one forearm beside my head to keep me from sliding backward, but it only does so much.
He’s a fucking machine, and I’m here for it.
All the anger, the sadness, the guilt we’ve both been carrying pour out in animalistic noises. My nails rake down his back, and he groans, thrusts harder, sweat dripping from his temple onto my neck.
His piercing drags over my G-spot and lights my world up white. A cry tears out of me before I can muffle it. He does it again. And again. On the third time, I snap. The orgasm rips through me, sharp and unstoppable. My whole body locks, then shakes. Wetness floods out around him, soaking us both.
“Fuck, Vi,” he groans. “That’s it.”
Just as the scream leaves my lungs, he roars, head thrown back and muscles straining. I wouldn’t be surprised if three rooms down heard it.
It feels less like sex and more like an exorcism.
Carter pulls out carefully, and the warm slickness trickles down my inner thighs. He collapses on top of me, chest heaving, his weight pinning me to the carpet. I rake my fingers through his hair and push it back from his forehead, both of us still catching up to our breaths.
“That was . . .” I start, then fade out. The English language escapes me. “I actually have no words.”
He laughs against my shoulder. “Transcendent, therapeutic, and out of this fucking world?” he suggests.
“Let’s go again,” I murmur, then sink my teeth into his shoulder just to make him jolt.
“Give me a minute,” he pants. “That orgasm was years in the making.”
I roll us so I’m on top, my thighs sliding over his, the mess between us slick and hot. “Exactly,” I say. “Hurry the fuck up, because I’m done waiting.”
Dragging my soaked pussy up his body to where his thickening cock lies along his stomach, I slot him against my slit and rock back and forth.
“I’m a fan of the hardware. That’s new for me.”
“I’m glad you approve.” One arm is bent behind his head, the other anchored on my hip, guiding my movement. We both stare at his pierced head disappearing between my lips.
“What a sight,” he mutters. “I never thought I’d get to see this.”
“Same,” I admit softly.
“What do we do about Liam?” he asks.
I glare. “Can you please not mention my brother’s name while I’m humping your cock?”
He laughs. “Fair point.”
My eyes travel over his chest as I keep rocking, fingers tracing the shapes and lines of his tattoos. Some are music—notes and lyrics. Others are patterns and symbols. Tiny marks of things I don’t know.
I stop at the gray wolf inked over his ribs. Its eyes are a vivid violet, strange and arresting, the tattoo different enough from the others that it stands out.
I bend down to get a closer look.
“I got that for you when I was twenty,” he says. “The gray fur matches your eyes. The violet eyes . . . self-explanatory.”
I look up sharply.
“Thought I had the gray color right. Didn’t know your eyes turn into a fucking storm when you’re wet. Gonna have to fix that.” He winks.
I slap his chest. “Idiot.”
He smiles. “I wanted to get something more obvious, but your brother isn’t stupid.”
“It’s beautiful.” My fingers drift, tracing the lines of the wolf inked into his skin. The curve of its jaw. The sharp intelligence in its eye. “Why a wolf?” I hadn’t even come up with the name Vega Wolfe when he got this.
He watches my hand instead of my face. “I always knew you were strong and fierce. A force to be reckoned with.”
My mouth twists to the side, unsure what to do with that. Compliments usually slide right off me. From him, they don’t. My thumb lingers over the wolf’s left violet eye before I pull my hand back.
“Come on, rock star,” I murmur against his mouth. “Time’s up. Show me what you’ve got. But we gotta move, my ass and back are taking a beating from this carpet.”
He laughs, eyes lighting up with mischief. Then his hands clamp around my thighs, and in one fluid move, he sits up, shifts to his knees, and rises—lifting me with him, my legs wrapped around his waist.
“Keep up, Storm,” he says, taking a few steps and dropping me onto the mattress with a bounce. “It’s going to be a long night.”