Page 94 of Break the Ice
He sets a pace that matches the mood between us.
Angry, savage, rough.
Hard, punishing thrusts that send me jolting forward ’til he’s wrenching me back toward him. My nails sink into the earth to try to gain some traction, some ground, but there’s no battling Rafe in a moment like this.
He’s relentless. His hips whip back and forth, his stroke so good it feels unreal. He reaches the deepest part of me, and stars burst before my eyes. It’s like being split in two in the best possible way. I arch my back and try to lift myself up on shaky arms only to collapse again.
I have no choice but to give in completely. Embrace the sloppy, nasty, skin-slapping sex where I’m ass up, face down under him and we’re both grunting.
Pleasure swirls around me. My body’s electric, pinging from the shocks of pleasure that come from my pussy. I lose all concept of the time and place, so wrapped up in the body-racking pleasure that I’m not sure if my eyes are open or closed.
Everything’s dark. Stars blink in front of me. I might as well be spinning through space.
Any fight I put up earlier has long been drained out of me as Rafe fucks into me and his dick dominates every inch of my pussy. Later I’ll come to my senses and curse myself out, wondering how I could ever fall prey to moments like this.
But I’ll only be fooling myself. Because Rafe Golding’s too addictive. He’s a wildfire that’s burned into my life and razed everything down to the ground. No matter how hard I try, how much I tell myself I hate him, I can never resist him.
We’re in this together! But you’re going to have to fucking trust me, alright?
His earlier words splice in and out between his current grunts of pleasure.
I bite down so hard on my bottom lip, I taste blood, blocking out what he’d said.
I can’t… I can’t… but what if… what if I can…
My orgasm crashes into me on this vague thought. I tense up, my pussy walls spasming, and I come as if I’m pained. It’s a kind of pleasure close to it, echoing through every inch of me. Both of my thighs quake. All ten toes tingle, then go numb. My mouth drops open, and I cry out.
I almost pass out.
I almost don’t realize Rafe’s coming too. He’s right along with me, losing his mind as he grunts and his hips wind down to shallow thrusts. He spills inside my pussy ’til his warm release leaks down my inner thighs.
Then he wraps his arms around me, his breath rough pants against my skin, and he bites the tip of my shoulder. He buries his face into the crook of my neck and holds onto me like he intends on spending the night where we are—collapsed on the ground in the middle of the forest, lying in the dirt.
We don’t come to our senses until minutes later when we’re back on our feet and redressing. I slide into my jeans with thoughts about a long, hot shower. After the filthy night I’ve had, I desperately need one.
“Sugar,” he says, reaching for my hand.
I turn my back to him. “We have a situation to handle. Or have you forgotten about Mr. Blackman?”
“Mitch’s got it under control.”
“Take me home. This wasn’t a round. This wasn’t part of the game,” I lash out. Emotion swells in my throat, making it hard to speak. My voice sounds hoarse. “This was you pulling me into more of a mess. I don’t want anything to do with it.”
I’m not sure why I’m lashing out the way I am. The only thing I know is that once it spills out of me, I can’t stop myself. Once the aftershocks of my orgasm fade, I’m back to hating how I’ve given in. How I’ve let myself think I could ever trust…
…I can’t even finish the thought.
Who am I kidding?
Rafe Golding is poison. He’s no more trustworthy than David. He simply uses different means to fool and manipulate me. I’m drunk off his dick.
Nothing more.
Rafe surveys me for a long second, then gives a tight nod. “If you want to tell yourself that… you don’t want it… this… so be it. But we both know the truth, Sugar.”
He walks past me without waiting to see if I’ll follow. I do only because it’s back toward the clearing where Mitch, Mr. Blackman’s dead body, and the cars are. Though I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t second guessing myself, wondering if maybe Rafe’s right.
Someone’s knocking on my door minutes before eight in the morning.
