Page 82 of Second Sin

She starts to shake.Her fingers yank at my hair, pulling me in like she needs more, like she’s on the edge of shattering.

I groan into her, let her grind against my mouth. Let her ride that edge.

And when she comes, it’s wild.

Her cry echoes against the tile, her whole body going tense, then trembling as she jerks against me. Her hips buck, nails dragging down my shoulders, leg locking around me.

I don’t stop until I’ve felt every last wave of it—until she’s panting, wrecked, slumped forward, whispering my name like it’s the only thing holding her together.

Then I rise.

Her eyes flutter open, glassy and dazed. Her mouth parts, but no words come out.

I kiss her.

Deep. Slow. Letting her taste herself on my lips as her arms wind around my neck and pull me in like she never wants me to leave.

The friction is brutal—my cock hard, throbbing against her belly, every muscle in my body tight with want I can’t hold back anymore. Her fingers slide down, wrapping around me, and the groan I let out isn’t controlled—it’s desperate.

“I need you,” she whispers.

My jaw clenches. “You have me.”

Our lips meet again, slow and deep. Her hands splay over my chest, then my back, dragging down muscle and spine like she’s memorizing me.

I kiss her neck. Her shoulder. The curve of her breast.

She gasps.

I lift her. She wraps around me. Arms. Legs. Trust.

One thrust, deep and slow, and she cries out.

It’s not just fucking—it’s something deeper, something...devastating. Every move feels like the first, like nothing before this ever counted. Every drag of her nails down my back. Every whimper in my ear. Every desperate kiss...she undoes me.

My hand cradles her head. Her forehead presses to mine. We breathe the same broken air.

I’m too far gone to hold back.

She pulses around me, crying out as she falls apart again. Her body convulses. Shakes.

And I lose it.

I follow her over the edge, groaning against her skin, face buried in her shoulder, as release shatters through me.

We stay like that.

Panting. Pressed together. Her body trembling in my arms. The shower still runs hot, washing away the cold—but not the ache.

Not the craving.

Because I’ve never felt like this. Not with anyone.

This thing with Olivia?—

It’s not sex. It’s not lust.

It’s possession. Longing. A need so deep it scares the hell out of me.

---