Page 25 of The Keeper

He moved one hand between my legs, savagely rubbing my clit. It matched the wild intensity of his thrusts, bringing me within seconds of climaxing.

I never orgasm this fast. Never.

Not even when I’m using my own hand or toys. My second orgasm hit with the same ferocity as the first.

I cried out, scratching down his back, gasping for breath.

The involuntary grunt he expelled along with his rough breathing signaled we’d come at the same time. That’s a first for me.

His sides heaved like he’d just finished running a race. Closing my eyes, I leaned my head back. His body shivered against mine on a shaky inhale as he pulled out.

“You’re bloody dangerous,” he declared.

“And you’re addictive,” I countered, looking at him.

“Perfect combination.” He carefully lowered my legs to the floor. To say they were wobbly would be a gross misrepresentation. I’d had decent lovers before. But this? Him? We’re talking next level.

“Feels like you marked up my back pretty good.”

“What?” I panted. “Oh. Well, I mean…you…did I hurt you?”

A low, satisfied chuckle spread through his chest. “No.”

His lips brushed over mine in a lush, soft kiss. When he pulled away, he held my arms, keeping me secured against the wall. My damn legs kept shaking.

“Can you walk?”

“The cheek on this one.”

His serious expression almost made me regret my flippant remark. “I’m not letting you go until I know you can stand and walk.”

“I can,” I responded, sounding a bit more breathless than I expected. “I’m good.”

Backing away as though to study his handiwork, he grinned. “Fucking gorgeous.”

“Pretty sure my mascara is smudged to high hell but I’ll take the compliment.”

“It’s not.” He extended his hand. “Come with me. I need to get you cleaned up.”

I gladly placed my hand in his and followed him to the bedroom. No lights were on so I could only see his face in shadows. Somehow, it was even more stunning.

He got me settled on the bed and went into the bathroom to dispose of the condom. When he rejoined me, he handed me a warm washcloth, waited for me to clean myself, and tossed it in the hamper.

Then he finally climbed in next to me. I nestled into him with my back against his chest, laying on my side. His legs tangled with mine, one arm draped over my hip. He nuzzled into my neck, nibbling at the skin. Nothing but comfort flowed through me. For at least this moment in time, I felt relaxed and whole.

His fingers traced down the side of my ribcage. I closed my eyes, hoping he wouldn’t ask about the tattoo he’d no doubt already seen. He kissed it softly and let his lips linger for longer than I would have expected.

“What does this mean?”

Shit.

This was neither the time nor place for oversharing.

I shrugged. “I just liked it.”

“I like mine, too, but I know what each of them means.”

I swallowed. “Twin phoenix feathers made of flames. I got it when I was eighteen. It’s…personal.”

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