Page 59 of Say You're Mine

But even in the grip of mindless need, I pause, holding her gaze with an intensity that robs us both of breath.

"Tell me you want this," I rasp, the words raw as fresh road rash. "Tell me you need me, that this isn't just some fever dream or fucking hallucination."

Her eyes blaze, twin stars gone supernova. "I want this," she says, deliberate and diamond-cut. "I want you, June. In me, on me, possessing every fucking atom. Now shut up and fuck me."

I comply with a snarl, a single brutal thrust seating me to the hilt in her grasping, dripping core. We both cry out at the soul-deep connection, the feeling of utter completion. It's like coming home, like finding religion, like staring into the face of the divine and seeing only infinite acceptance, infinite grace.

"Fuck, you feel incredible," I groan, already moving, falling into the ancient rhythm of bodies and hearts and raw animal need. "So tight, so perfect, so wet just for me."

"I was," she pants, scoring lines of sweet fire down my heaving flanks. "Yours, June. Designed for your cock, for your come, for-"

Her words dissolve into a low, keening wail as I change the angle, hitting that spot that turns her molten and boneless and incoherent with bliss. I set a punishing pace, driving into her like I can fuse our very molecules, like I can crawl inside her skin and live there, safe and loved and unshakably sane.

Every thrust, every slap of skin, every broken endearment feels like an exorcism, a savage purging of demons both literal and figurative. Faulkner's poison recoils with each cry of my name from her lips, each declaration of eternal devotion gasped into the sweat-damp hollow of my throat.

"That's it," Cara hisses, eyes wild and glassy with lust, with love, with the all-consuming need that mirrors my own. "Harder, baby. Wanna feel this for days, wanna be split open and dripping with this perfect fucking cock."

I comply with a roar, folding her nearly in half as I pound into her soaked, swollen flesh. I'm close, teetering on the knife's edge of shattering ecstasy, but I'll be damned if I fall without her.

"Come on, gorgeous," I grit out, working a hand between us to circle the throbbing pearl of her clit. "Come for me, let me feel this sweet cunt squeezing me dry."

She seizes up with a choked scream, spasming and fluttering around my dick. It's exquisite, obliterating, the most intensely perfect sensation I've ever known. I thrust once, twice more, and then I'm coming like a freight train, like a force of nature, painting her trembling walls with thick jets of my seed.

I collapse against her, both of us gulping air like drowning victims finally breaching the surface. She cradles me close, fingers twining in my sweat-soaked hair, legs locked around my hips as if she can't bear even an inch of separation.

For a long moment, we lay tangled together, our hearts racing in tandem. I press my forehead to hers, breathing her in, reveling in the feel of her skin against mine.

"I love you," I whisper, the words inadequate but all I have to offer. "I love you so fucking much, Cara."

She cups my face in her hands, her eyes shining with tears. "I love you too, June. Always."

But as the afterglow fades, as reality starts to creep back in, I see the doubt shadowing her gaze. The fear.

"June," she says softly, her thumb tracing the curve of my cheek. "We need to talk about what happened. About Elaine, and the custody hearing, and-"

"No." The word comes out harsher than I intend, and I feel her flinch beneath me. "No, I can't... I can't think about that right now. Just let me have this moment, Cara. Please."

She hesitates, worry creasing her brow. But then she nods, pulling me close once more. "Okay," she murmurs, pressing a kiss to my temple. "Okay, my love. We'll face it in the morning."

I close my eyes, breathing in the scent of her, letting it calm the storm raging in my mind. For now, in this stolen moment of peace, I can almost believe that everything will be alright.

But deep down, in the darkest corners of my soul, I know the truth.

This is just the calm before the hurricane.

The afterglow fades, reality seeping back like poison. Cara's warmth beside me is a lifeline, but even that can't silence the demons clawing at my skull.

"We should talk about names," Cara murmurs, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on my chest. "I was thinking Onyx might be nice."

I hum noncommittally, drinking in her scent - jasmine and sex and home.

She chuckles softly. "Song and Louis were joking about Bernard earlier. Can you imagine?"

Louis. The name ignites a flashfire of memories - Faulkner's twisted illusions, Cara writhing beneath Louis while I'm forced to watch. My body goes rigid, a snarl building in my throat.

"June?" Cara's voice is distant, muffled by the roaring in my ears. "Baby, what's wrong?"

I blink, struggling to separate reality from the nightmares Faulkner planted. Cara's eyes are wide, concern etched in every line of her face.

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