Page 223 of His To Erase
When I reach his cock again, I stroke him harder, slick from the soap and water and the kind of need that won’t burn out until it consumes us both. His hands fist at his sides.
“Ani.” This time, it’s a warning.
He lowers his forehead to mine, breathing hard, holding my face like he’s memorizing the shape of it. And then he snaps. In one brutal motion, he’s shoving me back against the tile, and lifts one of my legs around his hip.
“You want this?” he growls against my throat, slamming into me.
I cry out, and it echoes off the tile.
Jesus. I can feel him in my ribs.
His hand braces the back of my neck, holding me steady as he drives into me over and over again—grunting and breathing like he’s seconds from blacking out. There’s nothing more intoxicating than watching him lose control, and the monster stops pretending to be human.
“You make me lose my fucking mind,” he growls, each brutal thrust branding the words into my skin. “You want to see what happens when I lose control? Then fucking feel what that costs—every inch, every second, until you forget how to breathe without me.”
I claw at his back, nails scraping slick skin, as my head falls back against the wall as he pounds into me. I’m already close. Hell, I never really stopped being close.
When I come, it’s not a climax—it’s a fucking exorcism. I scream his name, my whole body seizing around him, trying tokeep him buried inside me. I should be embarrassed. I should be mortified by the way I break apart for him—loud, messy, and wild—but all I can think is please don’t stop.
I don’t know where I end and he begins and I don’t care. He owns me. And God help me, I fucking love it.
He follows—groaning my name, burying himself deep and staying there, like leaving me isn’t even an option. For a moment, there’s only the sound of water and the pounding of my heart.
His forehead rests against mine as we breathe together, still tangled and pressed against the wall and I’m genuinely surprised the water isn’t freezing.
His hand slides to my waist, then he leans in and kisses my shoulder. “I’m still hungry.”
I laugh—weak and dizzy. “God, you’re disgusting.”
“Not what you said five minutes ago.” His smirk is lethal.
I roll my eyes, stepping out of the water, still catching my breath. “So what now?”
He runs a hand through his hair, flicking water from his fingers before reaching for a towel. “Now you tell me what you heard from Frank.”
My whole body goes still.
Shit.
That isn’t exactly what I had in mind. But okay. I wrap the towel around myself like it can shield me from what’s coming next.
“What did he say, Ani?”
I hesitate. Grabbing a towel, curling it tight around my shoulders.
“He said…” My throat closes, but I force it out. “He said worst case, he lets me think I matter until he gets what he needs. That I didn’t remember it the first time. And that I won’t remember it now.”
Steven
She’s curled against my chest, tucked into me like she belongs there. The world will come for us eventually—it always does—and when it does, it’ll tear this to hell. But until then, she stays pressed to my side, one arm draped over my chest.
I watch her longer than I should. Long enough to map out every freckle on her shoulder, and every scar I didn’t put there. She looks so calm and peaceful, it makes me want to stay. Makes me want to lie here and pretend that the storm clawing at the edge of my mind can wait until morning. For once, the world outside this room doesn’t matter. But it can’t. Because I don’t leave loose ends.
A sharp buzz cuts through the quiet—my phone, vibrating somewhere in the kitchen. I don’t want to move. Three seconds pass. Then five. And she still doesn’t stir.
Slowly, I shift beneath her, careful not to wake her. I move like a man disarming a bomb with his bare hands. Her fingerstwitch in her sleep, flexing once over my stomach—reaching for me even when her mind’s somewhere else.
Christ.
