Page 87 of Fire for Effect

“Look at me!” The voice, impatient, and cruel, came with a fist around my throat. A hard hand, that pulled me to the present.

My eyes opened, and he was there.

“That’s right baby,” his voice was soothing again. Sweet. “Stay in the moment with me.”

I had asked to ride him, but just because I straddled him between my thighs didn’t mean I was in charge. Not by a long shot.

“Stay right here, with me,” he demanded, his brown eyes were so rich, they didn’t look real. “Yes, baby. Now, move your hips…. Just like that.”

I followed his commands without knowing it.

“I’m right here, with you.” His voice kept the cruel thoughts from my head. The ones that told me this couldn’t be true, that Kai Winchester Griffith couldn’t be here with me. That he couldn't want me the way I wanted him. “That’s right, baby, move your hips. Just like that. Feel it… Feel me.”

What was he soothing me for?

“No more running, Taz,” he said. “We’re done running. We’re done not talking. You get me? We’re in this together, now.”

No. I understood nothing. Not when his cock buried so far inside me threatened to go right through my entire body. Not when his movements sent electricity over every cell of my body like I was some dormant corpse, feeling alive for the first time.

“Tell me you understand, Taz. Tell me.”

“I–I…” I had no idea which way was up, and which way was down. I had no clue what I was doing. I felt too much and too little and wasn’t sure how I could survive.

“We’ll start slow, baby,” he said, his six-pack straining as he sat up. His hand on my throat, the other in my hair, directing my head to move wherever he wanted me to go. “Start by telling me you’re mine.”

I shook my head.

That was one confession I could not make. Not now. Not ever.

It was a death sentence.

“Was that something he made you say?” He asked, his brows furrowed.

I had confessed. I had told him about a marriage I had hoped to never share with him.

So what did it matter if I confessed it now?

I nodded.

He snarled, but then schooled his features - a feat, considering our hips still moved in a slow, sensual rhythm. I could smell the earth in his hair and feel the cold of the autumn wind. But none of it mattered if he kept me warm.

“Then I won’t ask for more. At least not right now,” he said, almost gritting it through his teeth. “Let me tell you what you are to me instead.”

He placed a kiss on my throat, moving that damned hand. As soon as he let go, I wanted it back. I wanted to be in his control once more. To let him take what he wanted and show me what I was too chicken shit to admit I needed.

“You’re my woman,” he said, planting a kiss on my chest, between my breasts. “My Pyromaniac Firefly. I belong to you, and you belong to me. I will catch another bullet for you, if that’s what it takes–”

“Don’t!” I placed my fingers over his mouth, stopping him before he tempted fate again. “I don’t want that. Don’t say that again.”

He took my fingers in his mouth, his teeth grazing against the sensitive skin of my fingertips as he sucked them, his sweet, warm tongue tasting it like it was the sweetest lollipop.

“I’ll do whatever you want, as long as you stay with me.”

I wasn’t in charge. I was riding him, but I wasn’t in charge. I was following his rhythm. I followed his pace. He moved his lips, and I countered, pressing with him, and retracting when he did. We joined, and separated, but never severed the connection between our two bodies.

“You don’t have to say it,” he said with a shrug. “As long as you share my bed at night.”

Was that more or less of a commitment than admitting that I was his? Or did the two go hand in hand? I wasn’t sure anymore. I couldn’t think. My brain was fogged with so many things. His hand in my hair, the other exploring my naked skin. Him, inside me, his kisses, his body. The firefly tattoo...

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