Page 51 of Twisted

She knew the rules. She knew what she wanted. His chest burst into flames at how quickly she’d come to learn him, and how quickly he’d learned her. She needed this affection, this release, the pain and pleasure—she was an addict, and he was her drug of choice.

“Gonna take my time with you tonight, baby doll. Wanna see your knees shakin’ in the mornin’ when I eat your sweet cunt again.”

“Oh, god,” she moaned as he teased his tip at her entrance from behind. Instead of his fast and hard approach, he eased his way in slowly, until he filled her and she released a sigh of contentment. He groaned at the same moment, seated so deeply in her that he felt as though they were unified as one entity. She was like warm, soaked velvet, sucking him in, clenching and rippling already as he kissed her neck and gripped her breast in a firm hand.

“More…Jaeger, please, go fast.”

“Nah, baby, just relax, let me take my time with you,” he said gently, wishing to enforce their growing bond tonight with passion versus dominance. He wanted her to see both sides, to understand he could be attentive and loving in the bedroom as well as out of it, but only if she let him.

She made a noise of protest, but he eased out at the same time his hand left her breast and roamed downward. As soon as he began to push back in, he found her hand gripping the sheets, and he pulled her free, interlocking their fingers as he stroked into her cunt. Every time he was kissing her womb with the head of his cock, she shivered and relaxed, pushing back against him in a silent plea for more.

It was the most erotic sex he’d ever had. It was full of unspoken passion and the breaking down of walls. It was trust, and at least on his part, it was love. He couldn’t keep the blissful smile from his face when her free hand reached up and behind to tangle in his hair.

“God, Maisie, I’ll never tire of ya.”

“Good,” she breathed, and his grin doubled. As eager as he was to keep this punishingly slow pace, he already felt as though he’d explode. Pulling out, he maneuvered her hips until he was on top between her thighs. He’d always hated missionary, hated staring down at the women who made weird faces and noises, their hair or eyes the wrong shade. Maisie had ruined all other women for him the night of that party.

He caught her confused look, awash in the golden glow of the candles as more thunder rumbled. Slow, he teased her clit with the heavy head of his cock, and her back arched, exposing the cords of her slender, pale neck to him, her hair a deep brown halo on his pillow.

“M-more,” she urged. He couldn’t deny her, not when she looked like that, with her lips wet and parted, her eyes pinched closed and her brow furrowed as if she was concentrating very hard on what he was doing to her.

He groaned, sheathing himself again in her warm depths. “Feel me, Mais,” he urged, gripping her wrist and pulling it down to where his thick cock was just pulling out. Startled, her eyes opened, cheeks flushing, but she obeyed, wrapping her tiny fingers around his slick cock before he pushed back in. “Fuck,” he hissed, for not a single centimeter of him was exposed now. And the way her eyes sparked to life when she stared up into his? He felt like a fucking king.

“Hard…harder, please,” she begged, pinching her eyes shut and letting go of him, her demeanor changing in an instant.

“Enjoy it, Mais—”

Her eyes flew back open, and in a burst of anger, she shoved against his chest. He paused, dumbfounded, until he could see the seething in her gaze, in the rise and fall of her chest and the way her eyes glossed with tears. Dropping down onto his elbows, their noses almost touching, he stilled deep within her. A few tears slipped loose as she tried to turn her face away. He caught her, but her response was to close her eyes.

He understood it; she wanted the pain, the all-consuming fire. She was afraid to feel, and Jaeger was making her feel more than she’d likely felt in a long time. He smoothed his thumb over her cheek, pressing a kiss to her nose. Her eyes shot open to glare, but it was a wounded look—a woman who needed the affection she tried so hard to shove away.

“It’s you and it’s me, Maisie Jane. Don’t wanna share ya, even with your ghosts.”

Her plump bottom lip wobbled.

“I’m scared, Jaeg.”

Smiling down at her, he stroked the side of her face from hairline to chin, smoothing her wavy locks away from her forehead and cheek.

“I know ya are, baby. We all gotta do things that scare us, right?”

He was surprised when she nodded, her fat bottom lip still stuck in an adorable pout.

“But I’m here, and it’s gonna be okay. And right now, baby doll? I just wanna know ya in a different way.”

Sniffling, she nodded again, and he gave her a soft smile in return, easing out, their eyes locked the entire time. He could see the fear, the anguish, the pain, but there was also a spark of a different kind of trust—the kind that came from the depths of a shattered heart. When he pushed back in, she whimpered, and he leaned up to press a lingering kiss to her forehead.

Shocked when he felt her shaky little hands smooth up his arms to his shoulders and then to his neck, he stared down at her and grinned like a giddy teenage boy losing his virginity. Her legs soon followed, though she hissed when her sprained ankle hit his hip. Chuckling, he caught her eye again, and this time a small smile answered him.

Deepening his strokes and pounding harder into her, she became jelly beneath him, and he knew it wouldn’t be long for either of them. He’d had his slow torture, and now he wanted that euphoria before he tucked his girl into his embrace and fought off the demons in her nightmares. Skin slapped, and Maisie’s moans grew in fervency and pitch, her perfect tits bouncing in his shirt.

Without warning, lightning cracked closer than ever before, charging the air and setting their hairs standing on end as the thunder followed immediately after. At the same moment, Maisie cried out, jutting her hands up to claw at his broad shoulders as he stroked deep and hard into her, the walls of her cunt rippling before clamping down like a vise.

He pounded through her climax, gripping her hips and keeping himself seated snug against her wall as he spilled his seed. Collapsing in a heap of panting limbs, he gathered her up in his arms, cradling her head against his neck and shoulder. And in that moment, she sagged in his arms and sobbed.

He held her close until she quieted and the rain outside sang a softer melody. She was fast asleep against him, shielded by his body over hers. He dared not move,couldn’tmove, just stared down at her as her eyelids twitched and her breathing went deeper.

“God I love ya, my Maisie Jane,” he murmured to the darkness.

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