Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Hilary
Alarms are sounding in my head.
Or maybe they’re not alarms.
Maybe it’s music.
A dark, pulsing beat—low and wicked—the kind that crawls under your skin and refuses to let go.
His kind of music.
Because when David kisses me, it doesn’t feel like a moment.
It feels like a drop.
Like everything in me builds—tightens—waits—and then crashes.
Our mouths collide, not soft, not hesitant.
Hungry.
Our tongues meet and tangle, a clash and surrender all at once—like something ancient and inevitable, like every story I’ve ever read distilled down to this one moment.
He moves me.
Not gently.
Not carefully.
But not carelessly either.
With intention.
With certainty.
Step by step, he walks me backward until the backs of my thighs hit the edge of the bed, grounding me in something real even as everything else tilts off balance.
I gasp against his mouth.
He answers with a low sound—something rough, almost a growl—that sends a shiver racing down my spine.
His hands move.
Mapping.
Claiming.
Learning.
Sliding down my back, strong and sure, until they find my hips, my curves, my center of gravity—and hold me there like he already knows exactly how I fit.
Like he’s been searching for it.
Like he’s found it.
“David—” I breathe, but it comes out broken, more feeling than sound.
He doesn’t slow.
Doesn’t pull back.
He cups me between my legs from behind, sliding his fingers through my lips and pressing inside with zero resistance.
“Fuck, linda, you’re already so wet for me,” he groans into my mouth.
His mouth leaves mine only to trail lower, along my jaw, my throat, each touch deliberate—like punctuation in a language my body suddenly understands.
Every place he touches sparks.
Every place he doesn’t feels like it’s waiting.
I’ve read about this.
God, I’ve read about this.
The consuming kiss.
The dangerous man.
The moment where the heroine knows she’s already lost.
But reading it?
Imagining it?
Nothing—nothing—prepared me for this.
For the way my body reacts without permission.
For the way I arch into him, chasing something I can’t even name.
For the sounds that slip from me—soft, helpless, real.
He feels it. I know he does.
He pulls back just enough to look at me, eyes dark, blown wide, like there’s no world outside this room.
Like I’ve become the only thing that matters.
And that—that wrecks me.
Because I see it.
That same intensity.
That same edge.
That same almost-dangerous focus.
And instead of running?
I lean in.
I choose it.
My hands slide up his chest, over the ink and heat of him, feeling the solid reality of his body beneath my palms, grounding myself in him the same way he’s grounding himself in me.
“You’re going to be the end of me,” I whisper, not even sure if I mean it as a warning or a confession.
His mouth curves slightly—not a smile.
Something sharper.
“Nah,” he murmurs. “This is just the beginning.”
And then he kisses me again.
Deeper.
Slower.
Like he’s not rushing this.
Like he’s savoring it.
Like he knows exactly what he’s doing to me—and has no intention of stopping.
The city glitters behind us, silent witness.
The music in my head crescendos.
And somewhere between one breath and the next—between fear and want, between logic and whatever this is—I let go.
Not of control. Of doubt.
Because this? This feels like something out of the stories I’ve always loved.
Dark.
Intense.
All-consuming.
And for once, I’m not just reading it.
I’m living it.
I wrap my hands around his neck and pull him to me, desire riding me hard now.
The stubble on his cheeks as he growls and nips the skin of my neck between his teeth only makes this more real, more raw.
I don’t know what to pay attention to first—it’s like sensation overload.
Like his hands are just everywhere—and for a moment I wonder if being a DJ—using top tech equipment at supersonic speeds has made him kind of a master at this, at foreplay.
Whatever the reason, I am more than grateful, and I hold on as he tips us both until we’re on top of the mattress—me on my back and him hovering over me.
I hear the rustle of fabric as he pushes his pants down, then his dick is sliding between my folds and I can’t hold back my whimper.
“I’ll put on a condom if you want me to. I swear I’m clean, I haven’t been with anybody in months and my contract makes me get a physical once a month.”
“I’m clean too,” I moan, and honestly, I should know better, but he feels really good and I want him so much.
“Damn straight you are, linda. But like I said, if you want me to, I’ll wear one. Just not yet. Right now I want you to grind that sweet slit against my cock while I suck on your tits. Can you do that for me, Sunshine? Can you get my dick nice and wet?”
My eyes are so wide I wonder if they’ll pop out of my head, but somehow I manage to nod and David groans and holds his hips hard against me while he bends his head and takes one nipple into his hot mouth.
I moan and clutch at his shoulders and neck, and yeah, I do as he says. I grind against his thick, girthy cock as he sucks on my tit. The heat? The suction? It’s so good.
I swear I’m gonna come if he keeps doing that.
He rolls us over so he’s the one on his back and now I’m astride him.
My legs are short and I feel the burn in my thighs, but it’s good. So damn good. The pressure now is just right, and his hands are on my ass, digging in, demanding more.
“Fuck, you’re so hot for it. For me. Aren’t you, Sunshine? That’s it. Keep rubbing that sweet pussy all over me. Get me soaked in your juices, linda,” David growls as he switches to my other breast.
And he’s not wrong.
I am hot for him.
Wet. Soaked.
My need is already dripping down his cock, and I’m desperate for more.
He’s the one in control. But he doesn’t use it to dominate me. Instead, it feels like he uses his power to help me let go. To make me feel loose and confident—and God help me, I do.
“David, I need,” I moan, frustration making me whine.
“What do you need? You can have it. Anything you want,” he growls, hands fisted in my hair as he forces my unfocused gaze to his.
“I need your cock. Inside me. Right now,” I tell him and he groans as I lift up on one knee, placing my hands on his chest to help.
His hands on my hips tighten, and he lifts me. I grab his cock and position him at my entrance. Then he guides me down, and we both moan aloud.
“Fuck!”
“David!”
He’s big. Hard. So thick.
I swear I can feel every ridge and vein pressing against my sheath as I stretch around him.
“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” he asks, and his concern makes my eyes tear.
I shake my head. And I lean down and press my mouth to his. For one second, our kiss is sweet. Then I rock my hips, changing the tone, and it grows frantic.
Uncoordinated passion at its best. Our teeth clink, our lips merge, and I start to move with David rocking up into me.
He sits up, arms wrapped around me, one hand between my ass cheeks as I ride him.
And the whole time, he’s kissing me like he needs me to breathe—and the thing is—I think I need him too.
His mouth finds my neck, my collarbone, my tits, and he sucks and flicks his tongue against my nipples.
My pussy tightens. A flood of moisture pools between us, and now I’m moving faster, harder, and David grunts with effort.
“Come for me, Sunshine. Right now,” he commands.
And I am helpless to do otherwise.