Page 56 of Monsters Like Us
“Micah—”
He rips the mask off, shoving it into his pants pocket. He spins me around, his mouth devouring mine, violent and desperate, every ounce of silence he’s carried poured into the kiss. His hands fist in my stolen shirt, pulling me flush against him. My nails bite his flannel-covered shoulders, clinging like I might drown without him.
When he finally tears his mouth away, he breathes like a beast. “I could take you here,” he growls, forehead pressed to mine. “I should.”
“Do it.”
His dark chuckle fills my ears, echoing off the trees. Instead, he pushes me to my knees and rips open the denim jeans I stole for him. His hard cock springs from his boxers when he pulls them down, nearly hitting my lips.
“So impatient.” He stares down at me, irises blending with the darkness surrounding us. “Suck me, little murderess. Show me how much you love my cock.”
My hand is already wrapping around the base of him. I stare at his long, thick cock. I’ve had it inside me before, which was intimidating. Putting him in my mouth is even more nerve-racking.
His finger grazes my cheek. “You can take it.” The confidence burning in his eyes empowers me.
I stroke him from base to tip and back. Then I lick the pre-cum from his tip, moaning at his salty, musky taste. He hisses, those dark eyes watching me. I grin before opening my mouth wide and stuffing as much of his cock inside as I can.
“Fuck,” he mutters, his hand wrapping around my hair. “That’s it, little murderess.”
I suck him deep, gagging on him, my eyes watering. His cock thickens from the broken, choking sounds, a smirk curling his lips.
I pull back, gasping for air. It doesn’t last before he’s dragging my mouth back onto his dick, thrusting himself deep. “Breathe through your nose,” he commands. His advice helps keep my gag reflex in check, and I relax around him.
“That’s it.” He pulls out to the tip, then pushes back inside. “Suck that cock like a good fucking girl.”
A moan slips free as I look up at him, delighted by the pleasure on his face. By his words that praise me. And knowing the mask is in his back pocket is the icing on the cake.
He pumps in and out of my mouth, fucking me like I’m his toy. And I relish every moment of it, trusting him completely.
“Fuck, yeah.” His hips begin to piston, and a guttural moan rumbles through him before he whispers, “So fucking tight and wet. I love your mouth.”
My jaw is stretched as wide as it can go, tears roll down my cheeks, mixing with the saliva pooling from the sides of my mouth, yet I’ve never felt sexier than I do right now. My hands stroke up and down his powerful thighs, then roam around to his ass, squeezing it, wanting him to come in my mouth.
Instead, he pulls out of me with a ragged breath. “Not yet. I’m coming inside you.”
Somehow, he manages to pull his pants up around his hard cock, then reaches down and scoops me up like I weigh nothing.
I squeal as he throws me over his shoulder, my fists pounding on his back. “Put me down!”
He slaps my ass, hard enough to make me yelp. “Not a chance.”
I wriggle, laughing and cursing as he carries me through the dark. The cabin rises out of the trees likesomething waiting for us, crooked and looming. He kicks the door open, wood groaning in protest, and strides inside.
The heat in the small space wraps around us. He sets me down, my back hitting the rickety table. The wood groans under the impact, dust rising from its cracks like the cabin itself is exhaling. His hands cage me in, eyes burning black. For one beat, he just stares at me—like he can’t believe I’m real. Alive. His.
Then he breaks.
His mouth crashes into mine, all teeth and heat. My legs wrap around his waist. His hands roam over my body, frantic, possessive, as if he’s been denied the ability to touch me for far too long. My fingers shake when I reach for him, but it’s not fear—it’s hunger.
“I’ll never let you go,” he growls against my mouth, raw and feral. “Not now. Not ever.”
And I believe him.
I’m not letting go of him, either. God help me, I can’t imagine life without him.
The cabin groans around us as he presses me harder against the table, the storm inside him spilling into me. Every kiss, every grip, every ragged breath feels like survival. Like we weren’t meant to live through Black Hollow, but here we are—burning alive in each other’s arms.
The table creaks beneath me, wood groaning like it might split, but I don’t care. His mouth is everywhere—biting, devouring, branding me with each brutal kiss. My shirt tears when he yanks it over my head, the fabric ripping down the seam. His growl rumbles low in his chest, animalistic, satisfied, like he’s been waiting his whole life to destroy the barrier between us.
