Page 79 of Obliterated
He has me in ways I can’t even comprehend.
He has me in ways I couldn’t have fathomed in my stupidest fantasies.
His hands are brutal and exact, pulling me back on every surge, thumbs digging into the meat of my hips, fingers splayed, nails scoring my skin. He drags me with him, hard and relentless.
I choke on a gasp with every brutal thrust, my voice shredded, thoughts reduced to heat and ache as he damn near obliterates me.
I’m his. I’m his in every fucking way, and I want it, need it, need him to claim me. “Bite me,” I grunt, panting. “Mark me.Do it.”
When he does—when those teeth find my neck just as his hand grabs my throat so tight I can barely fucking breathe—I claw for the edge of the mattress, fingers digging in the material, wanting more, more, more until the sound of skin and teeth is the only thing that exists.
I sink into it, into this brutal, beautiful mess of us, and nothing else matters but the way he pins me to the world, keeps me teetering on lunacy.
He does more than claim me. He’s owning me. It’s in every snap of his hips, every mark of his teeth, every growl ripping from his chest. And I wouldn’t want him any other way.
He’s mine. Fucking mine.
He’s fucking me raw, bleeding me dry, and rebuilding me at the same time, pulling me apart and putting me back together in ways I never thought possible. The intensity of it is too much… and the sob that rips through me as he takes me, annihilates me, isn’t pain or heartbreak. It’s love and full-blown surrender.
Tears streak my cheeks, tears of want and relief and the kind of aching I didn’t know had a name.
Then, abrupt and smooth, he shifts gears: his thrusts slow, his hands unclench, and the feral edge softens into something almost careful. He starts kissing me—my shoulder blades, the curve of my spine—then hauls me up flush against his chest, his lips trailing over my neck, his tongue flicking over the trail of kisses.
It’s soft. Tender. Unlike anything I’d expect from him; a complete turn from what he just did.
One hand stays on my throat, massaging it now, sometimes clenching that tiny delirious bit, that damn thumb caressing the whole time.
The other hand snakes lower, traces the outline of every one of my abs, fingers fluttering over the coarse hair. When he finally wraps those strong, scarred fingers around my aching length, he fucking shudders as I let out a whimper. His mouth finds my neck again, kissing the tender spot he bit moments ago, soothing it, taking the sting away.
He starts to move again, slowly fucking upward, keeping me seated on his lap with those strong arms.
And when he twists me, bringing my lips to his, when he kisses me like he’ddieif he didn’t, like I’m his fucking oxygen, like this is our forever, the only forever we’re going to get, everything snaps.
I fucking explode: a white-hot bolt that rips through me, my body convulsing, my voice tearing into a raw, keening shout as heat floods every nerve. He holds me through it, lips crushing mine, arms locking me to him while the world tilts and burns and then, impossibly, softens.
He follows right after, grunting and groaning my name, his body twitching inside me as he comes. Hard, ragged, everything collapsing into one desperate, animal sound.
We sag against each other, limbs tangled in a hot, sated mess, the blanket bunched under us, breath coming in jagged, hungry bursts. I’m flying, soaring; I can’t catch my thoughts.
When he finally moves, he’s careful. He turns me, slips out, then crawls over me until he’s atop me. Our foreheads press, noses touch, lips grazing softly until they find each other.
I feel him drip out of me, but couldn’t care less; I only care about the slow, steadying beat of his chest, the way his weight anchors me to the bed.
His eyes have calmed, the animal in him breathing softer, for now the monster is sated. I can still smell grief on him, feel it under his ribs, but it’s muted by the closeness.
The outside world—Joyeus, the city, Tass, all the shit that’s waiting for us—drops away.
Those dark-starred eyes fix on me with the weight of a planet, and that look flattens everything else into silence.
Chapter nineteen
Max
Ihatewaiting.Ireallydo.
Especially when I have no fucking idea what’s going on. Roe’s still up north and radioed in when we got back home. He said he’d found a damn goldmine, that he’s got everything he needs to nail that bitch to the wall, but couldn’t go into details over the air. Makes sense, since you don’t talk on the radio if you don’t have to. You never know who’s listening.
He explained it’s bigger than we thought, and it’ll take a couple of days before they can come back. They’ve got to get their shit inorder first and ordered us to hunker down: lay low, don’t go into work, don’t go outside, stay holed up in the apartment.
