Page 50 of Rebel Hawke

After what happened with the girls and Benjamin, I thought I understood what it felt like to want to protect somebody, but this is different. More primal. A need to claim her. Mark her. Let everyone know she’s mine and that I’ll do literallyanythingfor her.

Maybe that’s what made this crazy thought about getting her pregnant feel sonecessary.

I don’t fucking know, and I don’t fucking care why.

All I care about right now is this.

The feel of her cunt squeezing my cock. Her nails digging into me. Her slick skin gliding along mine. The look of sheer ecstasy and pure bliss on her face every time I plow into her.

Releasing her leg, I lean forward and grip her chin, tugging her head over to mine so that I can seal my mouth to hers as I continue to take her hard.

What she asked for.

What I’m good at.

I don’t know what it feels like to make love to a woman.

This is all I know.

Fast.

Rough.

And it feels so damn fucking good with her.

But something makes me slow, makes me still my hips, makes my thrusts come more languidly.

Wren moans. “Wh-what are you…why’d you—”

I kiss her to silence her again, a long, torturously slow meeting of lips, too soft and gentle for what I was just doing. “I’m sorry, Wren. I just want to savor this. Savor you. Make it last. It isn’t a fucking race, but I—”

She clenches around me and rolls her hips against mine, trying to find that angle, that friction, frantic to spur me to move again.

“Open your eyes, Little Bird.”

Her lids flutter open, and the pure need there, mixed with a hint of panic, steals my breath momentarily.

“I’m all yours, Wren.” I pull my hips back slowly and sink into her so she can feel every fucking inch of me. Tightening my grip on her chin, I brush my thumb along the scarring on the left side. “Anything that happened in your past, anyone who hurt you can’t anymore. Do you hear me?”

She gives me a tiny nod as a tear trickles from her eye.

“I’m going to take care of you, protect you, give you anything you need. In life and in this bed. Do you understand me?”

Her head bobs softly, her lips quivering, and I feather mine over them again, catching the little gasp as I draw back and plunge into her again.

This time, the rhythm I set is a long, slow grind, one I know will take what was already building up inside of her and make it coil even tighter, make it snap even harder when it releases, make her reach even more catastrophic heights.

She clenches her eyes shut and tosses her head back and forth. “Atlas, I can’t—”

“You can’t what?”

“I can’t…”—she whimpers, frustration filling the sound—“I can’t come…during sex. I’ve never been able to. I can’t—”

“Fucking hell, Little Bird.” I seize her mouth again with a bruising kiss and shift my knee up, changing the angle again, ensuring I give her the most possible friction in that all-important spot. “Then every man you’ve ever been with is a worthless, selfish piece of shit who didn’t deserve to even look at you, let alone touch you.”

She laughs against my lips, the sound half humor and half anguish that I feel deep in my bones, too.

I don’t want to think about the kind of men she was with, anyone else fucking touching her, but I know I’ll be the last one who ever does and that she’ll remember this moment for as long as she fucking lives.

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