Page 81 of The Prodigal

Remington shudders at my words and pulls in a harsh breath. The tension between us is thicker than desire. “I’mnota virgin. I donotbelieve in saving myself for a man—for him to take whatnoman has tasted. To claim what ishis—a gift of purity for the impure.”

Thunder rumbles outside, rocking the lights above us as I play his game and tell him pretty lies. He knows I’m pure. He knows I’ve saved myself for the right man. The question is: Is that man him? “What am I to you, Mr. Potter? Am I a pretty lie or your ruthless truth?”

My challenge snaps the last of his restraint as one hand delves into my hair, snatching my head back and exposing my neck to the predator.

“You want my truth?” He all but growls the question.

“Every painful word.”

This animalistic noise erupts from his throat as he drives his hips upward, grinding against my aching center. “You are foolish.” His teeth sink into my shoulder for a split second before he follows it up with more harsh truths. “You are reckless and impulsive.”

I smile, loving the uninhibited side of him. “That’s all you have? Those are the ruthless truths that I should be afraid of?”

I’m pushing every button he has. I’m dangling the truth in his face and daring him to cower. “Hurt me with your truths, and heal me with your actions.” It’s like even the storm outside knows this is the moment of truth, a monumental revelation that will change the course of history. “Tell me, 101. Who am I to you?”

Remington’s chest is heaving, his eyes locked with mine as his lip curls, and his anger wraps us in its suffocating wrath until he breaks. “You’re mine!”

Lightning strikes, and the thunder follows, orchestrating the tempo of our breaths as Remington grinds his hips into mine once more. “You. Are. Mine.”

I feed off his anger, soaking up his heartbreaking truth. He loves me, and he hates himself for it. I am his exception.

I am not like all the others.

I am different.

I am his.

My hands slip through his hair, forcing his eyes to stay on me. “Then accept my gift—claim my innocence as yours.”

For a moment, I think he’s going to turn me down, but then he exhales, his voice becoming gentler. “Guide me in.”

I still at his words. They weren’t at all what I expected. I thought he would drive his cock so deep inside me that tears would fall down my cheeks. I was prepared for it, but not for this. Not for his gentleness.

“What?”

I catch his gaze and then let my eyes drift between my open legs where his cock strains against the slit of his boxers, begging to be released.

“Guide me in,” he repeats, “and take me instead. I don’t deserve your gift.” I press a kiss to his mouth, letting him part my lips with his tongue and lavish me with moans of pleasure as he explores my mouth with fervor.

“I don’t think it works that way,” I say between breaths, creating space between us. “You need to stretch me,” I whisper, securing my hands around the back of his neck for stability. “Ready me so I can take all of you. I want all of you, Remington.”

His eyes pinch shut, and I can tell his demons are rushing to the surface, fighting for the upper hand as his now-bare cock nudges my entrance.

We came from families that told us we deserved nothing, but we aren’t those kids anymore.

What I’m giving Remington doesn’t come with stipulations.

“You are worthy of precious things,” I remind him. “You are worthy of love.”

“No.” He shakes his head. “You don’t under—”

I don’t give him a chance to say more. Instead, I steal our breaths with one quick push of my hips.

His cock slides inside me, parting me painfully as it breaches the barrier no man has ever claimed before.

“Fuck.” His arms tremble as he stills his hips from moving. “Don’t move, love.”

I knew it would hurt, but it’s bearable. “I’m okay,” I tell him. “You can move.”

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