Page 103 of Consume Me

“Probably not. You can tell me if it’s too much.”

“I can take you,” she says, reading me again. “There’s nothing wrong with you, okay?”

I offer a strained nod and shove my hand into an oven mitt. As I place the pizza on the table, the aromatic smell of herbs, cheese, and salami wafts through the air.

Mia digs in, moaning.

“You only moan on my cock,” I demand, not caring that I sound like a crazy person.

She nearly chokes on her bite. “You’re crazy.”

I know that, but I never would have guessed that I would be this possessive and jealous.

“But it’s so good.”

“Non-negotiable.”

She throws her head back and laughs, dissipating that layer of gloom around me.

“I can’t just live off your cum and cock.” She bats her lashes in faux innocence.

Fucking hell, this woman is doing things to me I never thought possible.

“Eat. You’re getting fucked right afterward. Again.”

I am a man of my word, and the moment we finish eating, I jerk my chin toward the sofa. She takes off, her ass jiggling. Fuck, there’s something about that submissive nature mixed with a minx that has me mad about her.

When I finally snap out of my trance, the view nearly makes me come on the spot. Her back is to me, her legs parted while she holds herself on her palms on the sofa.

“Like this, Sir?”

“You’re getting fucked so hard you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

“Promises, promises.”

Fuck me. I don’t know who commands who anymore, and I don’t care. I descend on her like a madman, desperate to imprint myself on her skin, to embed myself deep inside her the way she has in me. And she welcomes me, all of me, with her greedy, wet pussy.

Suddenly, I want to live—to stay alive for as long as possible—just to feel and be with her.

She’s both my sickness and my cure––my silver lining.

My eyes flutter open to dreamy greens––those deep green eyes that burrow into my heart, owning it entirely. The corners of his lips tilt up into a panty-melting grin.

“Morning, Silver,” he says in that deep, sleepy voice that peppers goose bumps across my skin.

I never want to experience a day when I don’t wake up to him—my protector, the only one for me.

“Morning, baby,” I say, then immediately clamp my mouth shut, freezing in place.

His finger traces along my cheek. “I like you calling me that.”

My nerves calm, and a smile parts my lips.

“How long did you sleep?” I ask.

“Who needs sleep when I can watch you instead?”

His words unravel me. I was infatuated with him before, but now my feelings have intensified. I need everything. I need his truths, not the version of him that hides, though he’s an expert at that—and at adapting.

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