Page 45 of Scorpion

Mathijs removes his fingers to replace them with the cool tip of the gun. If I hadn’t already been discharged from the military, they sure as shit would discharge me now. My eyes gloss over at the hard intrusion, but I spread my legs wider to welcome it deeper, and he watches every one of my reactions with the intensity of someone whose life depends on the very act.

Inch by inch, he slides it further inside me, slowly spinning it so the trigger guard pushes against my clit for added stimulation. Moisture glistens on the weapon as he draws it out of me, then pushes it back in with agonizingly slow speed. The stretch adds to the pure bliss coursing through my veins. I’m going to come if he keeps this up.

“Look at me or I’ll stop.”

I avert my bleary gaze up to his ungodly expression, which is an unholy mixture of languish, desperation, frustration, and lust. Seeing him out of sorts because of me has my toes curling with self-satisfaction. He’s just as helpless to this pull as I am.

Before I can make another sound, his lips descend on mine, capturing me in the type of kiss I thought was only possible in dreams. I meet him with the same fervor and reverent worship. Like he said, I am his. I just don’t know how to be.

If we were crossing a line two days ago, we’re jumping straight off a cliff tonight. This is a point of no return. Acceptance. Whatever hell we’re in, we’re agreeing to be in it together. Every dark, depraved skeleton buried in the recesses of our minds are to be held by each other. Somehow, someway. It’s just us.

The logical part of me is jumping up and down about my job. I refuse to be put to the side just because he doesn’t want to risk my safety for the sake of his. I’m good at what I do and there’s no relationship that will get in the way of that. I won’t let it. I built this life. I honed my skills. When I get lowered into a grave, it’s the only thing that I can say was truly my own.

With the next drive of the gun, I’m gasping for breath and clawing at his back. “Right there.”

He does it again.

Over and over until I can barely hold my weight anymore. Each time the trigger guard hits my clit, another curse falls past my lips. The orgasm knocks the wind out of my lungs and renders me limp and shaking on the table as he continues to drive the gun into me.

Mathijs captures my lips like he wants to steal the sound from me. He doesn’t give me any reprieve before unzipping his pants and thrusting into me. My body sings from the change in sensation. It hits me far deeper than the gun, and has the perfect curve that reaches the spot that makes the lights in my head go out.

“Ik kan niet zonder jou.”

I nod even though I don’t understand a word of what he’s saying. I’m so sensitive, it almost hurts to keep going. But I would rather die than stop this. My second orgasm looms closer with each of his thrusts, and I claw at his back, begging for more.

His lips are on me. His hands. His eyes. Every single part of him moves like it belongs to me. Like it always has, and he’s begging me to see it.

A trickle of fear crawls through the lusty haze. I don’t know if I’m ready to go around declaring to the world that we’re in a relationship. But he’s given me the push I needed to stop looking at my own reflection. Mathijs forced me out of my shell and gave me a roof, food, and companionship.

I know if I told him to stop, he would. If I said I needed time before any kind of relationship, he’d give it to me. If I wanted space… I don’t know how willing he’d be for that. But I’m sure he’d keep me at a distance.

So this time, when I kiss him, I hope he knows how grateful I am for helping me back onto my feet. I hope he’s aware that with each move of my lips, I’m thanking him for all his insistence. I tell him with my lips that he will always have my endless gratitude for reminding me what it means to be alive. Living. Not just a shadow of my former self.

I don’t want to say that I owe him for taking me in when he didn’t have to, but there’s no doubt in my mind that I would put myself in the line of fire for him. I’ll do it every day until I can’t stand anymore.

His groan ripples between us, breaths growing more labored like he’s on the pinnacle of his own release. The pressure of his thumb against my clit pulls me closer to the edge of another release that I don’t know how I’ll survive.

He murmurs words in Dutch that I don’t understand, and I capture his bottom lip between my teeth. A noise that doesn’t sound human rumbles at the back of his throat and his thrusts turn punishing. Blinding. Completely soul-destroying. The grip he has around the back of my neck is hard enough to leave behind a splotch of blue and black on my skin.

“Please don’t stop,” I whisper, clawing at any part of him I can reach while his thumb circles my clit.

“Louder,” he growls.

I whimper when he slams into me. My hand flies behind me to keep me steady. My moans come out unbidden and uncaring for the audience outside. By some miracle, I manage to form the words he wants, and they come out closer to a chant that builds the pressure in my core until I hit a breaking point. Every inch of me shatters and reforms, crying out his name like it’s my only link to life.

His own climax hits right after mine, and he seals it with a kiss that could stop time itself. Everything about it feels like utter perfection; the way his come drips into me, our thundering heartbeats, the desperate touches.

But the words that follow feel like a pin drop in a quiet room. Something about it is so vulnerable, yet feels like I’m being gutted alive.

“Let me make you another promise. One day, you will finally be my wife.”

Chapter 12

ZALAK

Isway, unsure whether to feel giddy from bliss, exhausted from having my insides wrung dry, or hollow now that I’ve become aware of reality.

I don’t have the energy to feel embarrassed as we navigate between the tables. Anyone could have heard us. I’m sure I look like I’ve just been fucked within an inch of my life, but the opinions of strangers are far too insignificant and inconsequential in the grand scheme of things.

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