4. Rev #2
The first kiss was for show. This one isn’t.
This one is real—desperate and hungry and full of everything we’ve both been holding back. She grabs the front of my shirt and pulls me in, and I go willingly, cupping her face in my hands, angling her head so I can kiss her deeper.
“Rev.” She gasps it against my mouth, and the sound of my name in her voice breaks something loose in my chest.
I pull her into my lap. Her thighs bracket my hips, her hands slide up my chest, and I can feel the heat of her through the thin fabric of her shirt.
She rolls her hips against me and I groan into her mouth—she can feel how hard I am already, and she’s grinding against me like she needs the friction as badly as I do.
“Tell me to stop,” I say against her throat. “If you want me to stop, say it now.”
“Don’t stop.” Her fingers yank at the buttons of my shirt. “I need to feel you.”
I strip her shirt over her head and toss it somewhere. Her skin is warm under my hands and I drag my palms down her sides, feeling her shiver, feeling goosebumps rise in the wake of my touch.
“You’re so fucking responsive.” I drag my teeth along her collarbone and she gasps. “Every little thing I do, I can see it hit you.”
“Then do more.”
Christ.
She gets my shirt open and shoves it off my shoulders. Her palms press flat against my chest, sliding over ink and muscle, and when her nails scrape lightly over my nipples I hiss through my teeth.
“Bedroom,” I say. It’s not a request.
“Down the hall.”
I stand up with her wrapped around me. I carry her down the hall and kick open the door, and then we’re falling onto her bed in a tangle of limbs and heat.
I pin her beneath me. Look down at her—flushed, breathless, eyes dark with want.
“I’ve thought about this,” I tell her. “For years. Thought about what you’d look like under me. What sounds you’d make when I got my hands on you.”
“And?”
“Reality’s better.” I kiss down her throat. “But I’m just getting started.”
I unhook her bra and drag it off, and then her breasts are bare and I can’t think about anything except getting my mouth on her. I suck one nipple between my lips and she arches off the bed, a broken moan spilling out of her.
“Rev—God—”
“That’s it.” I switch to the other side, licking and sucking until she’s squirming under me. “Let me hear you.”
Her hands are in my hair, pulling, holding me against her. I work my way down her body—kissing, biting, tasting every inch of skin I can reach. When I get to her jeans, I look up at her.
“These need to go.”
She lifts her hips and helps me drag them down along with her underwear, and then she’s naked beneath me and the sight of her nearly stops my heart.
I spread her thighs. She’s slick and swollen and the scent of her arousal hits me and I have to take a second just to breathe.
“You’re soaked.” I drag one finger through her wetness and she whimpers. “All this for me?”
“Yes—please—”
I lower my mouth to her and she cries out at the first stroke of my tongue.
I pin her hips down and eat her like I’ve been starving for her—because I have.
Six years of want poured into every lick, every suck, every flick of my tongue against her clit until she’s shaking apart beneath me with a scream.
I work her through it, then kiss my way back up her body.
“I need you inside me.” Her voice is wrecked. “Now, Rev. I can’t wait anymore.”
I strip out of my remaining clothes. Her eyes drag down my body, lingering on my cock, and she licks her lips in a way that makes me throb.
I position myself between her thighs.
“Look at me,” I tell her.
She does. Brown eyes meeting mine, and I see everything there—the want, the trust, the need. The same thing I’ve been feeling for years.
I push inside her.
The sound she makes—this broken, desperate moan—I feel it everywhere. She’s tight and wet and so fucking hot I have to hold still for a second, jaw clenched, every muscle locked down.
“You feel incredible,” I grit out. “So tight.”
“Move.” She wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me deeper. “Please, I need—”
I start slow. Deep, grinding thrusts that let her feel every inch of me. She’s gasping, her nails digging into my shoulders, her hips rising to meet me stroke for stroke.
“Harder,” she demands. “I won’t break.”
Something snaps in my chest. I hitch her thighs higher, change the angle, and drive into her hard enough that the headboard cracks against the wall. She screams with pleasure—and I do it again.
“This what you want?” I’m fucking her in earnest now, sweat slicking my skin, the wet sound of our bodies filling the room. “You want me to wreck you?”
“Yes—fuck—right there, don’t stop—”
I can feel her tightening around me, her whole body tensing. I reach between us and press my thumb against her clit, circling in time with my thrusts.
“Come for me, Angel.” I’m close—so close—but I need to feel her fall apart first. “Let go. I’ve got you.”
She shatters.
Her pussy clamps down on me so hard I see stars, her back arching, my name tearing from her throat. The feel of her coming undone around me drags me over the edge. I bury myself deep and let go with a groan that feels like it’s ripped from somewhere primal.
For a long moment, neither of us moves. I’m still buried inside her, still trying to remember how to breathe. Her hands stroke up and down my back, soft and soothing.
“Stay,” she whispers. “Tonight. Stay.”
I couldn’t leave if I wanted to.
I roll onto my side, taking her with me. She curls against my chest like she belongs there. Maybe she does.
Her fingers trace the ink on my chest. I watch her explore, following the lines of tattoos I’ve had for years. She pauses over one—small letters just below my collarbone.
“Wheels,” she reads softly.
I nod. “Got it after the funeral.”
She stares at it for a long moment. Then she leans up and presses her lips to the ink.
“Thank you,” she whispers against my skin.
I pull her closer. Hold her tight.
The walls are down. There’s no more pretending. Whatever this is between us—it’s real now.
And I’m not letting go.