Page 87 of Final Serenade

“It looks very expensive, Frank,” I confessed. “What if I lose it?”

“Your man is giving you a present and you’re scared you’ll lose it?” A smirk tugged the corner of his mouth. “How about you let me see it on you?”

“You know what I do for a living.” I tried to rationalize my thoughts, but they were a mess. I was a mess. A hot one, actually. A wet one too. No one had ever given me anything this shiny, this exquisite, and this…intimate. “What if I accidentally drop it in a mosh pit?”

“I don’t think interviewing in a mosh pit is something I would attempt if I were you.”

“You know what I mean.” But even I had no idea what I meant. I was rambling. My chest heaved.

“Cassy.” Frank rubbed his stubble against my cheek. “You’re allowed to lose it. It’s just a necklace.” His voice was a fiery hum in my temples. His palms collared my neck and my legs quivered.

“Thank you,” I murmured. My eyes roamed over our reflections—the outline of his solid shoulders arched above mine, the shades of the evening falling across his sharp face, the sun-kissed blaze of his hair spilling into my blue-black strands.

My pulse raced against the press of his hands like a mad drumbeat. I was drowning in the hardness of his embrace and the inferno heat of his body.

“Allow me,” his voice said. Cool air tickled my skin as his hands helped me move my hair aside and up. He carefully took the chain from the box and placed it around my neck.

“What do you think?”

I let my hair fall down my back and studied the necklace in the mirror for a few seconds while his lips went to my shoulder blade to kiss the tip of my butterfly tat. “I love it.” I didn’t know what else to say. My mind was full of thick clouds and filthy thoughts. His erection, now evident, bulged against my ass.

He ran his fingers over the pendant and nuzzled the crook of my neck, pushing me against the dresser. The drawer closed under the weight of our bodies. I shivered. My heartbeat was tripping. When my gaze dropped to the empty box, Frank’s lips traced a wet trail along the edge of my shoulder. This was a delicious kind of torture. His hands, hot and greedy, inspected my curves. They teased between my thighs through the denim until I couldn’t stand anymore. I needed to come and I needed to come fast.

Satisfied with the outcome of his little game, he reached for my jeans and panties and pulled them down. His breaths were ragged as he unzipped his pants, the fabric of his shirt slipping across my ass as he freed himself.

“Look at me.” He grabbed my jaw, lifting my chin to meet his eyes in the mirror.

I saw the reflection of his silhouette outlined in the backdrop of dark sky behind the glass wall. A pulse of desire shot to my center. He was a delicious torment. The epitome of seductive devastation. My cheeks burned and my clit thrummed from a single glimpse.

With one hand still wrapped under my jaw, holding me in place, Frank slipped the other one between my thighs and found my pulsing entrance. He dipped two fingers inside and pressed them against my sweet spot, drawing a loud and desperate moan from me. My toes curled. I was no longer in control of my body and was losing my balance. The tip of his cock brushed my center. Flesh to flesh, we exchanged lingering gasps, and I gripped the edge of the dresser as his knees bumped into the back of mine. A surge of anticipation vibrated through me.

“You’re always so wet for me, doll.” He slid his lips over my cheek and rearranged my body. His desperate breaths pricked my skin. His cock, hard and thick, pushed into me roughly, bringing me almost to the edge. A soft whimper left my throat as pleasure swirled in my stomach. My knees shook. My chest fluttered.

I felt him whole, every raw inch buried deep inside me, his strokes long and angry, filling me to the hilt. I cried out and my body fell forward. His palms hovered above my knuckles, our ink touching. Then he tangled our fingers together and they moved across the expensive wood finish of the dresser as it rattled against the wall.

He owned me completely and entirely. My every heartbeat and my every scream. He was a wave of agonizing bliss that simmered across my skin.

Manic, he slid his hands to my hips, thrusting harder. I caught a glimpse of his elegantly muscled arms flexing beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. My vision went hazy. I couldn’t keep my gaze still anymore. I wanted to crawl into him, into his every cell, be a drop of his blood, a hair on his head. Be a part of him. Forever and always.

His groans grew louder and blended with mine. The room spun. Frank’s palm slipped across my waist and up my stomach to pull me against him. His stubbly chin grazed the side of my face. The sweat that coated his forehead dripped over my breasts and shoulder. We were a lawless and tragic entity, swept away by the maddening heat. The slick grind of our bodies turned me inside out. Then his index finger went to my needy clit and my breath caught in my lungs, my heart drumming a fierce rhythm.

“Come for me,” he ordered, pumping faster. His skin rubbed against my skin, his hair tangled with mine. The rush was incredible as he tore my climax out of me.

Eager, I fell apart for him. My limbs trembled and my mind screamed as our orgasms mingled. This was intense and dirty and for a second, I forgot who or where I was.

We stood limp in front of the dresser. His cock was still inside me and his shaking arms encircled my body. Our breaths were labored, our chests rising and falling at each inhale and exhale.

He pressed his lips to my temple. “Thank you for taking the time to go with me to Arizona.” His voice was a shudder. A collection of broken pieces.

“Of course.” I swallowed and tossed my head back to rest against him. “I think we might need a shower.”

“I think so too,” he agreed, and after he slowly pulled out of me, I still felt him between my legs, dripping down my skin, burning my thighs.

We moved to the bathroom and shed our clothes. As we stood under the stream of warm water, I watched the glimmering rivulets flow down his broad chest to his scar-littered sides and his hard stomach. He was a beautiful wall of ink and fine, lean muscle, and I wanted to stay in this shower cabin with him forever, to take in the view and the feel of him.

After, we sat in the dining room and destroyed Hannah’s chicken while an episode ofFriendsplayed in the background. I was wearing Frank’s shirt and he had on a pair of sweats. It was a casual, half-naked dinner I didn’t want to end, but the little voice in my head reminded me about my responsibilities and begged me to check on my brother.

“Are you going to get mad if I stay at my place tonight?” I asked, pushing my plate aside.

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