Page 103 of Caught Up

“Lauren.” My voice was low, guttural. I hadjustgotten her to relax around me again. The last thing I needed was to scare her off by getting ahead of myself, and yet there went my dick, reminding me that I still hadn’t gotten fully inside her.

She dropped her gaze to my crotch, but instead of looking freaked out, she looked turned on. I held myself perfectly still, worried that I was misinterpreting her expression, not wanting to say or do anything to ruin the tenuous peace between us.

She reached out and stroked her fingers down my lower abs.

I leaped off the bed, putting as much space between us as possible. Less than five minutes ago, she’d almost keeled over right in front of me. Less than ten minutes ago, she’d been convinced I killed her father. No way was she in the right headspace for something physical.

She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood, stalking forward. “What was it you said the last time you were in my room?” she asked, her voice low, sultry. “I need to fuck you?”

Jesus Christ.

“Lauren, I don’t think this is a good idea. We still haven’t talked everything through, and I don’t want to put my hands on you only for you to turn around and regret it.”

She shook her head, pulling off herT-shirt, and,goddamn it, she wasn’t wearing a bra. “I won’t regret it. Physical touch is healing for me. I need it to feel close to you, especially after a fight.”

“But nothing’s settled between us,” I argued, telling myself to lift my gaze up from her tits and failing spectacularly. In my defense, they were perfect tits.

“It doesn’t need to be settled for me to want you.” She stopped a foot away, her tongue peeking out to trace her bottom lip. “In fact, I like that it’s not. I’m still mad at you, and I know you’re still a little mad at me.”

I started to shake my head, but she pressed her finger to my mouth.

“You are. Don’t lie.” She ran her finger down my lip, lower, between my pecs, over my stomach, stopping to hook it into the top of my pants. Her eyes bored into mine, lust and anger turning them bottomless. “Taking it out on my body will make you feel better.” She shoved her sweatpants down, and then she was nude in front of me.

Fuuuck.

With a groan, I reached for her, but she was already moving, crashing into my chest. My back slammed against the wall, picture frames rattling. A yank on my neck had me jerking forward so she could kiss me, her hands everywhere, needy, impatient sounds crawling up her throat. The cut on my side burned with fresh pain—at this rate, it was never going to heal—and the chair rail dug into my taser burn, but I ignored them both, infected by her sudden desperation.

A gust of air at my crotch alerted me to the fact that my dick was free from my boxers. I hadn’t even felt her undoing my pants. Lauren scrambled up my body, and I caught her, cupping her ass as her legs wrapped around me and her tongue continued to ply my mouth. Her hand slipped between us and—oh, fuck—I was inside her.

I groaned, lost to the feeling of her working me, working totake mewithout enough foreplay. She pulled her lips from mine and bit her way along my jaw, teeth pinching hard enough to hurt, ass bouncing in my grip as she sank deeper and deeper onto my cock.

Was this what it felt like to get fucked against a wall? No wonder women were so into it.

Her mouth parted on my neck, and then she was sucking at me in a way that would absolutely leave a hickey. I used my grip to help her fuck me, shoving with every rise, tugging with every drop, gaining inch by precious inch until she was fully seated on my cock and I couldn’t just stand there anymore.

She’d made her point. Now it was my turn.

Wrapping an arm around her waist, I took us to the ground, plowing into her, pushing her thighs wide so I could get as deep inside her as possible.

She cried out, hands scrabbling at my back, begging, “Harder, harder.”

I grabbed her hair and wrenched her head to the side, marking her neck like she’d marked mine, thrusting into her with so much force that she was going to end up with rug burn from the way she was sliding across the carpet. I’d been waiting to fuck her for ten years, had imagined every scenario under the sun, dreamed of getting her off over and over before I let myself come, but now that it was finally happening, all I could think about was unloading inside her wet, welcoming cunt.

With difficulty, I pulled myself back from the brink. “Do I need to put a condom on?”

“No,” she said, her spine bowing, hips slamming up to meet mine. “I need you, Nic.”

“You have me,” I told her. “All of me.”

Not just my cock, but my protection, my loyalty, my trust, and even my heart. I loved this woman. I’d always loved her. Alwayswouldlove her, no matter what othercrazy-assshit happened in the future. She was who I was breaking free for, she was who I wanted to build a life with, areallife, lived out in the open and not in the shadows, where I’d spent every moment up until now. I wanted to explore my kinks with her, go to brunch with her and her friends, watch TV together, do all the other cute couple shit that I never thought I would get to experience.

She made me feel alive. She made me want to fight to keep living, to not let the monsters and the darkness win, because it was so much better being surrounded by her light. And if her penchant for taser play had taught me anything, she could more than put me in my place if necessary. She was my match, my queen, and I would spend the rest of my life worshipping her like one if she let me.

“Nic,” she moaned, hips rolling, head falling back, pussy clenching and, oh, god, she was coming.

My balls tightened, dick stiffened, and then I was coming, too, unloading into her, feeling her tight little pussy milk every last drop out of me.

Afterward, we lay there panting, her legs dropping away and her arms splayed wide as she went boneless. I rolled us, holding her close to my chest, her head tucked under my chin and her heart beating erratically against mine.

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