Page 31 of The Secrets We Share

“Fuck, little one. You’re taking me so well,” he groans.

My pussy clenches, wishing it wasn’t still hidden away inside my jeans at the other end of the table, being wholly denied any sense of pleasure.

“Take a deep breath, sweetness. It’ll be your last until I coat your throat.” His gravelly tone is pure sexual desire.

When his hips push forward, the table keeps my head in place as his cock slides down my throat. I squeeze my eyes shut at the unnatural feeling while his hand glides against my throat. The sensation makes my need for air more evident in my mind. It’s at that exact moment the panic starts to set in that I feelhis fingers reach between us and clamp down on my nostrils, cutting off my air completely.

He wasn’t being facetious when he told me it would be my last breath. Picking up a punishing pace, his cock never leaves my mouth. Only pulling out enough to glide against the soft, warm space before diving back in. He swells, growing indecently fuller than I can take. My body is screaming for the chance to draw in a breath, my chest aching and limbs twitching.

The idea to tap out dances through the fog in my brain, my consciousness not quite grasping it before my vision grows blurry while stars of different colors dance around the corners. A guttural moan rips through the room, accompanied by heavy breathing, just as the lights turn out completely.

I feel the sharp slap against my cheek, the broken words being yelled right in my ear.

“Dammit, Keira. Open those beautiful eyes for me, you stubborn, wicked woman. I swear to God, if you did this on purpose, I’ll whip your ass until you can’t sit for a week.”

I let his threat land, and my body comes to under his ministration to bring me back to a state of consciousness. I wish I could let him worry just a bit longer, but I’m pushed to heave in a lungful of air, gasping as my body shoots up further, bending over my lap.

I’m cradled in Harkin’s arms on the floor, his worried eyes dancing around my face. The worry calms a little too quickly when he sees my lips quirk up at the corner.

“Is it my turn now?” I cough out, trying to distill the tension radiating from his aura.

He doesn’t let me bait him into more of our give-and-take. I knew my limit, and I let him pass it. That’s not on him; it was all me, and I’ll make sure he knows it as soon as my voice can come out as more than a whisper. His assault on my throat is beyondevident. I wonder if it’ll look swollen from the outside, even though it feels as though the entire passage has shriveled up.

I notice he’s still half naked when his arms tighten around my upper back and under my knees. He lifts us both from the floor in one fluid motion, heading straight for the cracked metal door. He doesn’t stop in the small living area. It’s an industrial style, a lot like his apartment in Brooklyn.

“Harkin?”

“Not right now, Keira. I need a second.”

My stomach ties into a knot at the drop of my name. He rarely uses it, but when he does, I know shit’s serious. A nervous energy courses through my veins, and I sink into my mind a little further, distressed that I might have taken things too far. He warned me once we couldn’t continue this if he couldn’t trust me. But I genuinely felt safe enough to take that leap over the ledge.

I’m placed gently on the softest bed before his hands quickly remove my shoes, jeans, and jacket. The mounting silence feels like a physical presence taking up space between us. He ushers me under the covers, tucking me in without saying a word before he turns on his heels and heads for a small door across the room.

I curl in on myself, bringing the edge of the comforter under my chin. Before I can let the depressing thoughts encroach on my foggy brain, he’s back, a glass of water and a couple of pills in his hand.

“Open,” he demands, sitting beside me on the bed.

I do, and the pills hit my tongue. The glass following close behind. I drain it slowly, letting the cold water soothe and wash away the evidence of the uncoated medicine. He discards the cup on the nightstand. Reaching an arm over his head, he pulls free his t-shirt, throwing it to the floor next to the bed.

I lift the covers and slide toward the middle of the mattress. Once he’s settled underneath, his strong arm wraps around mybody, folding me into him. My leg slides against his, hiking up around his waist as my upper body drapes across his chest, leaving me lying more on top of him than on the mattress. My fingers swirl against his chest, chasing the rise and fall of his accelerated breathing.

“I’m sorry,” tumbles out, frantic to bridge the chasm building quickly in the stillness.

Warm fingers drag up and down my spine, stopping every few passes to play in my hair. His chest heaves on an endless sigh, lifting my body with its efforts. My gaze leaves the safety of his inked chest, drifting up until it meets his, unsteady in return.

“Do you know how often I’ve thought about death since the accident?”

Not wanting to put a number on the morbid question, I shake my head in answer.

“Almost every day. After it happened, I was consumed with guilt. I tortured myself by living in the grief of repeating that night in my head over and over. I thought about her death until it twisted into contemplating my own. The alcohol and drugs were a numbing agent that made it better, or worse, depending on the day.”

My eyes prick with tears, hearing the pain radiating through his truth. I squeeze my body closer, wanting to provide a semblance of noiseless support.

“Life in New York was better for me, but I was still only surviving. Each day was the same. Work, sleep, gym, repeat, until you. You tore away the darkness, shadow by shadow, like an avenging angel. But that was before Ireallygot to know you.” He lets out a small laugh.

My fingers dig into his side, pinching the skin in retaliation. I still don’t butt in. Letting him have the space to continue whatever this is, knowing damn well it’s leading somewhere I’m wary about.

“What you just did, making me watch the light being snuffed out of your eyes at my hands. Keira, I—I couldn’t live with myself if I lost you. I don’t think you understand how much I love you. With every fucked-up inch of my damaged soul.”

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