Page 59 of Second Chance with the Half-Elf
“Look at me,” he demands.
I refuse—until he stills entirely. Bastard.
Our eyes meet. His pupils drown the sea-glass green.
“Could’ve left. Ten years ago. Thirty.” He pushes a sweat-soaked strand off my face. “Waited for the hurricane.”
His hips snap up, that thick cock shearing deeper. I bite down on his shoulder to muffle the scream clawing up my throat—taste salt and storm still clinging to his skin.
"You want it rough?" His fingers twist in my hair, forcing my head back. "Or you want me to take my time?"
I rake nails down his chest. "Could youpossiblylast long enough to?—"
He flips us again, pinning my wrists above my head. "Still talking."
The next thrust steals air from my lungs. I arch, heels digging into the small of his back as he sets a brutal rhythm. Firelight glistens on our sweat-slicked skin, his silver hair curtaining our faces.
"Admit it." He lets go of my wrists to grip my hips, angling himself to hit that spot that makes my vision fracture. "You missed this."
"Missed your—fuck—inflated ego?"
His thumb finds my clit, pressing hard circles. "Missed us."
I buck against him, muscles clenching. "You're?—"
"Liar." He captures my nipple between his teeth, sucking as his pelvis grinds. "Photographing every pier and festival stall for weeks. But never me."
"Too—god—blurry through your thick skull?—"
He slams deeper, sheathing himself to the hilt. My back leaves the rug, driven up by each merciless stroke. The room smells of sex and burning driftwood, the storm's fury muted beneath our panting.
"Come on, Evie." His breath scalds my throat. "Let me see you break."
"Make. Me."
He drags his cock out almost completely, pausing at the tip. Taunting. I glare up through sweat-stung eyes—find his sea-glass gaze locked on mine, pupils blown. My hips jerk, trying to force him back in, but he pins me down with those sailor's hands.
"Say. It."
I spit a curse. He laughs—low, dark—and plunges back in at a new angle. The world whites out. Distantly, I hear myself begging.
"That's it." He licks into my mouth, fingers returning to my clit. "Need you to come. Now."
The coil snaps. I shatter with a choked cry, back bowing as my pussy clamps down on him. He groans, grip going brutal, thrusts turning erratic.
Our eyes lock. He stills deep, pulsing as he comes with a guttural sound that reverberates through both of us—shipwrecked and survivors.
For a suspended moment, we breathe the same charged air.
Then he collapses beside me, chest heaving. "Still think there's no us?"
I kick his ankle under the tangled blanket. "Still think you're not insufferable?"
His chuckle rumbles against my temple. The storm relents, reduced to a drizzle hissing against hot coals.
CHAPTER 22
AERON
