Page 47 of Throttle All the Way

MILA

Iwoke to the scent of him—smoky leather, musk, and something distinctly Cipher. His arm was wrapped tightly around my waist, holding me like he feared I’d vanish in the night. My body ached, filled with bruises, a sad reminder of what we’d just been through, but none of that mattered now.

I’d snuck into his hospital room hours ago, desperate to be near him, to make sure he was still breathing. The chaos of everything faded when I curled into his warmth, his heartbeat steady against my ear. Now, his body pressed into mine, firm and solid, grounding me in a way I hadn’t ever felt. Not even when I had a family did I feel this safe.

I didn’t want to move, didn’t want this moment to end. He was the best thing to happen to me, and I couldn’t lose him. Not now. Not ever.

His hand slid over my stomach, waking me fully as his fingers dipped lower, bunching the hospital gown I wore. I was bare under there and he growled as his finger went lower, a slow, teasing glide that made me gasp softly.

“Cipher,” I whispered, my voice still thick with sleep.

“Couldn’t wait,” he murmured, his lips brushing my ear. His cock, hard and insistent, pressed against my backside. “You snuck into my bed, Mila. Now you’ve got to pay for it.”

I shivered as his fingers found my clit, flicking and circling with deliberate intent. My hips moved on their own, pushing back against him, my body aching for more.

“You’re gonna wake the whole damn hospital,” I teased breathlessly, biting my lip to keep from crying out.

“Let them hear,” he growled, his voice low and filled with need. His hand gripped my hip, holding me still as he positioned himself against me. I tensed, anticipation coiling tight in my core. My pussy pulsed, needy to be filled by him. To be taken.

Then he was there, the thick head of his cock pressing against my entrance. Slowly, inch by inch, he slid inside my pussy, stretching me, filling me, until I was gasping his name.

“Fuck, Mila,” he groaned, his grip tightening on my bruised hip. I whimpered in half pain, half pleasure, but I didn’t want him to stop. His touch erased the torture I’d felt earlier. “You feel so goddamn perfect.”

He moved with an agonizingly slow rhythm, each thrust a deliberate claim. His hand slid up, cupping my breast, squeezing and kneading as his teeth grazed my neck. I moaned, my body arching into his touch, my leg spreading wider, gliding over his hip, the sensation too much and not enough all at once.

“Cipher,” I whimpered, my fingers clutching the sheets as he began to move faster, harder.

His pace quickened, the bed creaking beneath us as he drove me closer to the edge. His teeth sank into my shoulder, a sharp bite that sent a shiver down my spine.

“Mine,” he growled, his voice rough. “Say it.”

“Yours,” I gasped, my body trembling as the tension finally snapped. I cried out, the world fading as he thrust deep, spilling into me with a guttural groan.

We collapsed together, his arms wrapping around me, holding me tight as our breaths mingled in the quiet. The adrenaline slowly dissipated, leaving behind that steady ache of worn bodies, and although we hurt, we fell asleep in each other’s arms in exhaustion.

Hours passed,and the world outside turned soft and white. I woke to find Cipher still asleep, his face relaxed, the lines of tension erased in the warm glow of the morning. I traced the lines at the edges of his eyes, softly taking him in. Quietly, I slipped out of bed. He groaned, tightening his hold on my waist, but I gently maneuvered away from him and padded over to the window, the sight stealing my breath. Snow blanketed the bay, the water calm and reflecting the gray of the sky.

Christmas Eve.

A knock at the door broke the peace, and I turned to see December and Soul step in, their faces bright with smiles.

“How are you holding up, Mila?” December asked, her voice soft but genuine.

I smiled, brushing a hand through my hair. “Better than you would think.”

She touched my arm lightly before glancing at Cipher. “Let’s get him up.”

“What? Why?” I asked expectantly, as Hart and Guardian appeared, moving Cipher into a wheelchair with careful precision. He grumbled under his breath but didn’t resist.

We followed them into a private waiting room, and my heart swelled at the sight. Lights twinkled from a small, decorated tree, presents piled beneath it. The smell of cinnamon and pine filled the air, and the room was alive with warmth and laughter.

Bulldog stood at the center, his arm around Aiyana, who smirked at me knowingly. This was their doing, their way of reminding us that family wasn’t just blood—it was the people who stood by you when everything else fell apart.

“Merry Christmas, kiddos,” Aiyana smiled at us, and I heard Cipher laugh.

“You let her do all this?”

“Hey,” Bulldog raised his hands. “I don’t let these women do anything. They do what they want, you know that.” He put a hand on Cipher’s shoulder and looked down at him reassuringly.

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