Page 122 of Runaways

"What?" I ask breathlessly, my mind post-orgasm mush.

"Just for a second. I need my hands."

"Oh…" I say, realizing I've still got a death grip on his hands and releasing them. "I'm sorry."

He smiles, laughing just a little. "It's okay."

Then he sits up, pulling his sweats down over his hips, and it's the first time I really look at him.

How is it possible that they both got even more beautiful? Tate has always had a lean build versus Silas, who is more muscular, but just like Silas, his shoulders and chest are broader, and he has more muscle and more defined abs. And the tattoos covering his neck, chest, and down his arms and onto his hands…those are beautiful, too. The bite mark and the bloody cut only make him more beautiful somehow.

"Where have you been?"

"All my life," he says as he fists his dick. My pussy clenches as I watch him, fully erect and hovering over me, holding the base in his tattooed hand.

"What?" I ask, confused.

"I think you mean,where have you been all my life?And I've always been with you."

"No, I mean—"

"I know what you mean, baby. Not right now, okay?"

I hold my breath as he slowly lowers his body, guiding the head of his cock to my entrance and pushing inside me.

"Tate!"

"Fuuuuuuuck," he groans, his jaw tight as he buries himself to the hilt. He grabs my hands again, pinning them above my head as he drives into me, and I lift my hips to meet his thrusts. "You feel so fucking good, Noah. You have to know you were made for me."

He leans in, flatting his tongue over my nipple and then sucking it into his mouth, toying with the hardened tip before moving on to the other one. I moan, squirming beneath him, desperate to have more of him on me, more of my body touching his, more of his dick fucking into me, but with my hands restrained by his, I'm…limited.

I whimper in desperation.

He looks up at me as he thrusts in and out of me, his face smeared with mud and his blood. "Greedy brat," he says.

Then his lips crash into mine; his kiss is hard and just as eager as I feel, and he changes his pace to match. I cry out, spreading my legs wider and hitching one around his waist.

"Oh, god…Tate…"

My knuckles rub painfully against the floors with each punishing thrust of his hips. And that's how it feels—like a punishment. Like a deliciously thorough, well-earned punishment.

My eyes run down his body, and I watch the blood mix with sweat and drip down his abs and onto my body. I watch his dick move in and out of me, hard, veiny, and slick with my arousal.

"You like watching my dick sink into your pussy?" he asks. "You better answer me."

"Yes! Oh, god," I moan again, my eyes rolling back in my head.

His wet dick slips out of me, and he almost roars in frustration, gritting his teeth together as he's forced to release my hands. He grabs his throbbing cock, running the head over my clit and down my slit before thrusting back inside me, picking up the same brutal pace.

This time, he grabs me by my ankles, pinning them next to my head, and my body picks up right where it left off, on the edge of orgasm, the head of his cock hitting me at just the right angle.

"Tate…fuck…"

"Are you gonna come on me now?"

"Y-yes."

Before I can finish the word, my legs are shaking and my pussy squeezing his dick while I come apart, writhing against his tight hold.

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