Page 50 of The Grief We Hold

She lifts her thigh over mine, opening her pussy to me, and I run my fingers over the curve of her ass before seeking her wet warmth.

“Axel,” she says, rolling her cunt against my hand.

My cock seeks an out, desperate to slide into her. I’m glad he’s squeezed between the two of us while she rides my hand.

Her clit is firm beneath my touch, and I circle it roughly. I have no idea what this woman likes and dislikes yet, but I look forward to figuring it out.

You’re just fucking her out of your system.

I need that to be true, but…

My control dissolves as Raven kisses along my cheek, my jaw, and bites my earlobe, sending a shiver through me.

I roll her off me and onto her back, stroking my hand down between her breasts until my palm rests on her stomach. What little light the moon provides highlights the faded purple bruises on her ribs and I have to bank the anger I feel.

If I ever meet that fucking person who hurt her, I’ll give him a matching one.

Black hair spills across my pillow. She’s like one of the women in Arthurian legends…keeper of the fae or Lady of the Lake or some shit.

Taking my weight in my arms, I lower myself over her and kiss her. Settling between her thighs, I lose myself in the cradle of Raven.

In the warmth of her.

She’s too short for my cock to be snug against her pussy while I’m kissing her, but I grind it into the bed to ease the ache.

Raven wraps her legs around me, and I slide my palm beneath the curve of her ass.

Her hand slides into my hair, her nails tenderly dragging along my scalp.

“Axel, please,” she begs against my lips.

For half a heartbeat, guilt sneaks through me. This should feel wrong.

Like I’m letting my girls down.

I’m being weak.

But, fuck, I think I want to be weak with this woman.

I kiss the line of her jaw, the curve of her breast. I tug the taut nipple into my mouth and suck on it harder than I probably should.

There’s a dark need to bite her. To mark her as mine. I restrict myself to teasing her with my teeth.

Her breasts are small but perfectly shaped to fit in the curve of my palm. Didn’t know I had a size-difference kink until right this minute.

She’s sensitive, squirming beneath me as I tease her.

I peck the underside of her breast and continue my journey south down the plane of her stomach. I brush my lips over her bruise tenderly, before kissing above her pussy.

“This okay?” I ask. “Because I really want to devour you.”

“Yes, please.”

Somewhere between my brain telling me to be gentle and my tongue getting its first taste of her cream, everything gets lost in translation. Because there is nothing gentle, nothing slow, about the way I eat her.

It’s messy, fulfilling, primal.

I lick and suck and bite.

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