Page 41 of Fervent

“What they took. Take back control. It’s yours, not theirs or Zach’s. Only yours.”

He tugged me toward him. “This is what you want?”

I wanted him to remember. I wanted him to unleash the beast inside him, the one that didn’t give a shit about what I wanted. But I was also scared of him remembering. What if this soft side of him, the side I was falling even more in love with, completely disappeared? Was it too much to want the whole man?

“I want you. No, Ineedyou. I don’t care what’s happened. That might sound heartless, but God…please, Rafe. Take it all away.”

He let out a rough breath. “Then open your mouth.”

“No.”

“No?”

“Don’t tell me what to do.Makeme do it. You once told me that you had some fucked up fantasies. I want them. I want you to take what you need from me. I want you to strip me of everything so I can think of you and not that fucking dark place.”

He tugged me by the hair, bringing my mouth to his cock, and nudged my lips. I pressed them together, wanting him to force his way in. He slid his tip along the seam of my lips before slapping my cheek in silent command, then he pushed against my tongue and made me hold still for several seconds. Warmth flooded the aching spot between my thighs, and my nipples hardened into tingling buds.

“Is this making you hot?” he asked in a breathless whisper.

My moan vibrated around his shaft, and he rammed all the way to my tonsils until I gagged uncontrollably. Pressing a hand on my throat, he massaged where his cock nestled.

The way his breathing filled the shower excited me, made me even wetter, and his raspy groans drove me up the wall in wanting him. He was so close to coming, just from having my mouth wrapped around him.

This was the part I craved, the reason I freely gave him the reins. In taking power, he was giving it back—in the way he dove over the edge at the touch of my mouth, the sensual slide of my tongue. In the way he took what he wanted, yet cherished the gift all the same.

He slipped out, then shoved in again. “I don’t wanna come in your mouth,” he said, words a hoarse plea colored by desperation. “I want inside you, your legs spread. I want you fucking begging for it.” But his control snapped, and he pistoned his cock down my throat, each downward thrust bringing him closer to the point of no return. My gag reflex kicked in again, fueling his fire.

Rafe became an uncaged animal, his reservations tossed to the side, all sense of guilt forgotten. He fucked my mouth with abandon. My heart raced behind my breastbone, and I pulled air through my nose, willing my throat to relax under the onslaught of his cock.

“Oh fuck…” He pulled out and yanked me to my feet, and his mouth crashed onto mine, his tongue conquering, dividing my lips and demanding entrance.

I severed the connection, inching back as my rapid breaths fanned across his mouth, and wondered if he liked the taste of himself on my lips. “You didn’t finish.”

“Your mouth is fucking amazing, but it’s not what I want.” He lifted me, urged my legs around his waist, and water rained over us as he pushed me against the wall again.

Then he slammed into me, plunging so deep he reached the center of my soul. I clawed his shoulders, and the wantonness inside me unraveled as he stretched me, filled me.

With his body, his spirit, his whole being.

“God, Rafe,” I said, lips teasing his earlobe. “You belong there. Don’t ever leave me.”

A moan caught in the back of his throat, and he fastened his mouth on mine again. He held me to the wall and sought control by seizing my wrists and raising them above my head. I tasted desperation on his tongue, and it zinged through my veins until I fought the band of his fingers.

I yanked my lips from his. “Let me touch you.”

He freed my wrists and wrapped both hands around my neck. The action stunned him. I saw self-disgust in his eyes but also the overwhelming need to take my breath. This wasn’t the gentle pressure of a few minutes ago, when he’d had his cock deep in my mouth. He wanted to choke me. I sensed it in the barely restrained energy emanating from his grip.

He hesitated, and I wondered which part of him would win the battle.

I fisted my hands and didn’t move, even though I ached to run them through his soaked hair. Slowly, he moved inside me again, his thrusts the speed of a crawl as he flexed his fingers. Memory or not, the need to take my air was embedded in him.

“You can’t break me,” I whispered.

“But I want to.” He leaned his forehead against mine and shuddered. “I want to make you beg for mercy, watch you shatter. Does that make me a monster, Alex? Does that make me no better than them? Than your brother?” He let up on my neck, and I placed my hands over his, urging him to squeeze harder.

“Get your hands back up there,” he ordered.

The hard edge of his tone made me shiver. I extended my arms. “Youcan’tbreak me. I need this from you. I need it because you need it.”

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