Page 21 of Tempt

It’s beautiful. She’s beautiful, but the act itself feels like her poem.She wrote me a God damn poem.And then she gave it to me, in breathy little gasps, when I don’t deserve such sweetness.

I told her exactly who I am.

She knows.

And she’s still pulling me into her body, letting me love her.

It’s beautiful, but it’s raw, too.Vulnerable.Exposed.

She looks at me like she sees right to my soul, and that should scare me. I’ve had enough of being put on display for a lifetime. I’ve been picked apart and judged and found lacking in the worst way.

I’m a social pariah. A menace.

But Hazel’s right here, letting me love her.

And she’s smiling. “Sam…”

God, yes.

“You fuck like a god.”

Fucking. Not loving.Keep it real, Sam.Our conversation on the train rockets through my mind. Neither of us are romantic. I can’t confuse great sex—mind-blowing sex—with more complicated emotional attachment.

I roll onto my back, pulling her with me. “Ride me, Hazel.”

Her eyes sparkle as she wiggles on top of me. “Make me, Sam.”

I squeeze her hips, urging her up. Her eyes flash, and she pushes against me, my cock disappearing inside her again.

My brain stutters over how good it feels to be fully sheathed in her sweet, tight cunt. I force her up again, her gasping cry a gorgeous reward. She resists again, sliding her heat back over me. We play that game for a few more thrusts, then I take over, holding her place with a firm grip as I fuck her from below.

Hard, demanding thrusts. Take it, come for me, take it, be more perfect. A riot of sensations numb my thoughts as she begins to shake. My thumb finds her clit, giving her something to grind against as I drive up and into her on a final ruthless plunge.

And then she collapses, and I’m coming, I’m coming, deep inside her, and the thoughts rush back.

So perfect, so warm, so real.

Hazel.

Our second roundof sex starts in the shower.

It ends with a hard, fast screw on the floor three feet from the shower, with Hazel perched on my lap, my cock buried deep in her clutching pussy.

She presses her forehead against mine, and the damp tendrils of her hair curtain us in.

Another cocoon. Another safe space for me to lose myself in her.

To pretend I’m not stuck in a weird place in my life where I’m desperately grateful for all that I have—and hating it all the same.

“Come for me, Sam,” she whispers, and I do. Hard, fast, blindingly.

After we clean up again, we crawl naked into my bed.

Outside, the snow has died down. I gesture to the dark sky and the distant glint of a star. “The ice demon doesn’t seem upset now.”

“He convinced his beloved to return to his fortress with him.” She wriggles in my arms. “That is not a metaphor for anything.”

A pain that feels a lot like regret spasms in my chest. “I wouldn’t presume.”

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