Page 98 of When the Storm Breaks
But right now, I don’t care.
Right now, I want him to destroy me.
His mouth finds my chest, lips closing around a tight peak. His tongue flicks, then his teeth sink in. The pain sharpens into pleasure, a shock that tears straight through me.
And I break.
My body convulses, helpless against the high, wrecked and wrung out, ruined beyond reason. The orgasm crashes over me in waves, like he’s still pulling it from me, still dragging me under.
I slump forward, forehead pressed to his shoulder, my nails dragging across his skin as tremors roll through me.
He presses his lips to my temple, his hand still between my thighs, holding me open, feeling every last pulse.
“I’m not done with you yet,” he whispers, voice low and promising.
I barely have time to catch my breath before he lifts me again.
The rough denim of his jeans presses against my throbbing clit, sending a sharp, agonizing wave of pleasure straight through me. I cry out, gripping his shoulders, half begging, half overwhelmed.
I need him.
All of him.
He carries me into his bedroom and lowers me onto the mattress, his body hovering over mine.
He steps back.
The soft glow of the bedside lamp casts his face in warm, fractured light, slipping over the ridges of his muscles as he unbuttons his jeans. His lust-drunk eyes stay locked on mine, shadows stretching long behind him.
The sound of the zipper rakes down my spine.
He shoves his jeans down and kicks them off, leaving only the tight stretch of his briefs. The outline is thick and straining, feeding the deep, unbearable ache between my thighs.
With one quick motion, his fingers hook into the waistband and drag it down.
His cock springs free—thick, hard, already leaking at the tip.
A sound catches in my throat. My thighs clench together instinctively. My fingers fist the sheets.
Haiyden sees it.
And groans.
He climbs over me, his weight pressing me into the mattress. For a moment, everything else falls away—the outside world, the questions, the uncertainty.
It’s just us. Just this.
His lips find mine, slower now, deeper. His hands trace the length of my body, memorizing, mapping. There’s tenderness in the way he touches me—but it’s edged with something rougher. Possessive. A silent claim.
He slides himself through my slick folds, dragging, teasing, pressing just enough to make me gasp.
“Okay?”
I swallow, breathless. “Okay.”
The word barely leaves my lips before he thrusts forward, stretching me open, filling me completely. A gasp catches in my throat. My spine bows, helpless against the stretch.
Holy. Fucking. Hell.
