Page 62 of The Way You Hurt Me

Making me scream, and scream, and grasp the seat, and beg for a break, for him to pause, stop, because no person is equipped to feel this much. I'm going to die. I will die of pleasure if he doesn't…

I lose it. Everything is black, and empty, and quiet.

I now know why the French call it a little death. Well, I don't really get thelittlebit, because it feels like a huge, fat, inescapable death.

But then my heart's racing, beating against my chest, and suddenly, I'm back in the back of his Bentley, surrounded by the smell of ocean, the familiar white musk, the impossible warmth and safety and comfort I only experience with Dimitri.

"Brace yourself, petal. I don't think I can hold back."

I blink up at him, half dreaming, high in a cloud. This must be what it feels like to be shot with drugs, because my body doesn't even feel real.

And then, something hard, and hot, and huge slides between my leg in one rough, deep thrust, and I die all over again, and again. There’s something cool and hard inside me, pressing against my walls. It’s unbearable. It’s everything.

Electricity, fire, magma churn in my core, and he keeps slamming inside it. No one is made to take this. I can't take this. I scream. I can't. I need. I die, and die, and die again and again, wondering why my entire life hasn't been this, every day, every moment, every hour.

"Fuck, Willow. You're so fucking tight."

It occurs to me I should tell him, so I find the words. "Because I've only had you inside me," I rasp. He pauses over me. Somehow, now, I'm laughing. "Well, you and a lot of plastic toys that did not feel like this."

"You're…you're trying to kill me."

He's one to talk. "Right back at you."

He brings his mouth to my knee, kisses it, and the next thrust feels oh so much deeper. One of my legs is over his shoulder, as he drives in again.

"Tell me I can keep you," he demands.

"Yes."

"Tell me you'remine,"he adds.

There's only one answer. "Yours."

He's pressing, squeezing my clit, and I don't think either of us are capable of formulating any words right now. There's only one thing that’s real. The next scream. The next thrust. The next death.

We both fall.

30

WILLOW

Isleep on his lap, completely at peace, and safe and happy, for the first time in I don't know how long. The first time forever, in all likelihood.

Dimitri wakes me up with a combination of sweet nothings I don't understand and a caress on my back, yet when I emerge, I am completely conscious of the how, and when, and where we are.

The lab.

We reach it at dusk. It's a far cry from the Hamptons mansion; a simple gray stone building in the middle of a field. I would have assumed it was a farm if I didn't know better.

Dimitri puts his jacket around my shoulders before leading me out of the car and into the barn, which is indeed, filled with a tractor, hay, various tools I don't recognize.

I glance up to Dimitri. He winks, and leads me to a rusty door.

"Open it," Dimitri says.

I glance at him before doing so. Inside, there's just a cupboard, mostly empty except for more tools. "Are we in the right place?"

"Are we?" He steps inside, and I follow with a giggle. "Dimitri Volkov, alpha," he calls, and the cupboard starts descending.

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