Page 137 of Velvet Corruption
“Fuck,” she whispered, like it was both a plea and a surrender. Like she was giving me permission to ruin her, or maybe herself.
It turned into a gasp as I made my way down her neck, careful now, softer, tracing the places she bruised and scarred. I gaveeach one a moment’s attention before moving lower, running my hands over her like she might vanish if I wasn’t holding on. Like she was a promise I was afraid wouldn’t hold.
“Kieran,” she murmured, her voice all breath and want.
I kissed my way down her chest, dragging my mouth over the curve of her breast, and felt her arch for me—like her body had been waiting for this as long as mine had. Her pulse thudded just beneath her skin, frantic and wild, and I couldn’t help it—I groaned against her, open-mouthed, needy.
Her legs tightened around me, locking me in, pulling me closer like she couldn’t get enough. Like she didn’t want to. We were tangled, soaked, breathless—just a blur of skin and heat and years of wanting each other with no way to speak it.
And now I had her.
“Okay,” I managed, my voice wrecked, rough with how fucking badly I needed her. “I’m gonna take my pants off now.”
She bit her lip, a little smirk in her eyes. “Finally.”
I could’ve made a joke, but I couldn’t breathe. I shoved them down—boxers too—and when we were skin to skin, it hit me like a goddamn freight train. The heat of her. The feel of her against me, bare, real, finally. My eyes fluttered shut for half a second. I’d promised myself I’d make her beg. That I’d wait. But the second I touched her, I knew—I was already the one on my knees.
I lifted her again, couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop. She was weightless in my arms, laughing breathlessly, and I felt thatsound all the way to my spine. It was everything. Her legs locked around my waist, arms around my shoulders, and I pressed her back against the wall as the water pounded around us.
She looked up at me like she knew. Like she felt it too.
This wasn’t victory. It was surrender. And I wanted it more than I’d ever wanted anything in my life.
The shower beat down around us, rushing water the only sound. Maybe the only sound I’d ever remember. She didn’t push me away again; she didn’t tell me to stop.
“You miss me,” she said softly.
“Yes.”
“You missfuckingme.”
I groaned against her skin. “God, yes.”
Not just fucking you,I thought, but I didn’t want her to know that.
“You can fuck me now,” she rasped.
Her breath hitched as she whispered something I couldn’t catch—but I didn’t need to. Everything I needed to know was in the way she moved against me, the way her fingers gripped my back like she was already bracing for the fall. There was no space left for pretending. No control. Just us, stripped down to nothing but heat and need and eight fucking years of waiting.
Any attempt at restraint burned off like steam.
She reached down between us, and the second she lined me up, I pushed in—slow at first, just enough to feel the resistance, the stretch. Then I drove the rest of the way home in a single, brutal thrust. She cried out, the sound high and broken, and I felt it everywhere. Felt her clench around me, slick and hot and so goddamn perfect I almost saw stars.
“Fuck,” I breathed, forehead pressed to hers, both of us shaking.
She was tight. So tight it was all I could do to hold still, to savor it—to feel her around me before the rest of me shattered. I rocked into her again, deeper this time, and her nails bit into my shoulders like she didn’t know whether to pull me closer or push me away. I didn’t give her the choice.
She moved with me. Desperate. Wild. Every thrust was an answer to a question we’d never asked out loud. Every snap of my hips into hers was a punishment for the years we’d lost.
I couldn’t be slow. I didn’t want to be slow.
Not when I had her like this—open to me, clinging to me, giving me everything I’d been dreaming about in silence. We were all heat and noise, the slap of skin and the sound of her gasping my name. I fucked her like I meant it. Like I’d earned it. Like I’d fucking die if I didn’t.
The shower tiles offered no give; they forced us up against each other, made it impossible to be anything but frantic and fierce. Her body tensed and arched, lifting for more and more until her breath turned ragged and I was groaning loud enough to drown out the water.
“You feel so fucking good,” I said. “I love being inside of you.”
It sent a shiver through her—one I felt from the inside out. She tightened more on me, clutching desperately now, and buried her face against my neck. The breath of her next words was a series of stuttering gasps.
