Page 81 of Wicked Scorn
Linc, the team, his fucking charges.
Royce and where the fuck did he disappear to?
I don’t have everything under control and while I enjoyed the thought of someone seeing her under me, I can’t fucking stand the thought of them actually seeing any part of her that only my eyes have seen.
She’s staring at me, seeing right through me and seeing all the things swirling in my head as she steps until she’s toe to toe with me. Her head barely coming to my collarbone.
Her fingers clutch at my shirt. “I’m yours, Jeremiah. Always.” There’s a vulnerability in her gaze that tugs at something deep within me. “I could never belong to anyone else.”
I press my forehead to hers, “Fuck, I love you so goddamn much.”
“I love you more, pretty boy.”
“This is only the beginning,” I murmur, my voice rough with emotion. “I’ll never be satisfied, never be full of you. You’ll be the death of me, Oakley Ashford.”
A small, tremulous smile tugs at her lips. “I won’t. I just want you. The boy I knew and the man you are now. My protector.”
I crush her to me, one hand fisting in her hair to angle her mouth against mine as I bend down. Our kiss is desperate, hungry, a clash of teeth and tongues. I plunder her mouth, savoring her taste, her whimpers of need.
Oakley clings to me, her nails scoring lines down my back that only fuel me on. I grind against her, my half-hard cock meeting the softness of her body once again. She gasps into my mouth, and I swallow the sound, consumed by an insatiable hunger.
“Again,” I growl when we part for air, my hands roaming over her curves. “I need you again. Need to be inside you, buried so deep you’ll never forget who you belong to.”
“Yes,” Oakley breathes, her eyes dark with want. “God, yes, Rem. Take me, I’m yours.”
A feral sound rumbles from my chest as I back her up against the brick wall of the mausoleum behind us, pulling the cotton fabric down just enough for my cock to slip out. I hike up her skirt without preamble, bunching the fabric around her waist. She’s still slick and swollen from moments ago and the sight has me throbbing and now I’m fucking completely hard again.
“So fucking perfect,” I grate out, lining myself up and sinking into her with one hard thrust. We both groan, her inner walls fluttering around me in a velvet vise.
I set a punishing pace, driving into her again and again as her cries make a melody for me. My name falls from her lips in a breathless litany, each cry only fueling me further. I tilt my hips, changing the angle until I’m hitting that one spot inside her that has her keening.
“That’s it,” I growl against the curve of her neck. “Let me hear how good I make you feel. Let me know exactly who this sweet cunt belongs to.”
My release coils low in my gut, building with every slick thrust into her welcoming depths. I tear my mouth from Oakley’s, baring my teeth against the fragile skin of her throat.
“You’re gonna have my babies. All this practice we have, I’m gonna make sure I knock you up soon,” I demand, my voice wrecked with pleasure and need. “I want to feel you come all over my cock. My dick is only ever gonna find home in you. You fucking own me bunny.”
Oakley’s back bows, her inner walls fluttering and clenching around me. I grit my teeth, fighting against my own peak as she shatters apart with a broken cry. Only when her shudders begin to ease do I allow myself to follow, buryingmyself to the hilt as I come inside her for the second time tonight.
Fuck, my thigh is killing me, and this definitely isn’t what Doc meant by taking it fucking easy, but this was worth it.
She’s worth it. She’s worth everything.
I pull back enough to meet her gaze, struck again by how beautiful she is at this moment. “Come on,” I murmur, brushing a stray curl back from her face. “Let’s get back to the house before the ghosts come up and bite your ass cheek.”
“Jeremiah Robert Blackwood!” She screeches as me, and all I can do is fucking grin.
Chapter 31
Oakley
As I sit at one of the library’s ancient wooden desk, surrounded by towering shelves of books I can’t wait to read, I feel a sense of calm wash over me. I really do love working here. It’s almost dusk, and the golden light filters through the stained-glass windows, casting vibrant hues across the room. The musty scent of old books mingles with the faint aroma of my chai tea. My fingers trace the embossed letters on the cover of a worn-out novel as I attempt to focus, but my mind keeps drifting.
A sudden creak of the heavy door pulls my attention away. My heart does an involuntary flip when I see Jeremiah standing there, his tall frame silhouetted against the dimming light.
I’m unable to hide the smile that tugs at my lips. For a moment, the world feels right again. He strides toward me, each step deliberate and confident. His expression is serious, yet there’s a softness in his eyes that’s reserved only for me. When he reaches me, he gently takes my hand in his, his touchsending comforting vibrations straight to my core. I exhale a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
“I missed you,” he murmurs, his voice low and reassuring. “I have to leave campus for a bit, but I wanted to see you before I do.” He pauses, squeezing my hand. “But listen, we found the person who hurt you.”
