Page 42 of Glitter Rose
“Where do you think you’re going?” He rolls my nipple between his fingers.
“It’s too much.” My body fights the approaching storm so intense, it borders on pain.
“I’m not letting you escape this.” He bites my earlobe. “You’re mine now.”
His words push me over like a wrecking ball, tearing down walls I didn’t know existed. My body convulses, inner muscles clamping down on his fingers as wave after wave of pleasure pulses outward from my core. I cry out his name, the sound muffled as he abandons my breast to cover my mouth with his hand.
“That’s it,” he whispers as I shake against him. “Let go, Paris. I’ve got you.”
I surrender to it completely, helpless in his grip as the most intense pleasure I’ve ever felt courses through my veins. My vision blurs, tears leaking from the corners of my eyes.
His fingers draw out every last tremor, and my thoughts scatter like glitter caught in sunlight. I can’t form words, can’t remember why I spent so long afraid of connection, of the reality of Knox’s hands on my body, and the safety I feel even as he dismantles me.
A year of isolation, and now this.
When I finally come down, limp and panting inhis arms, Knox slowly withdraws his fingers, making me whimper at the loss.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs against my hair. “Absolutely fucking beautiful.”
I struggle to form words, my body still trembling with aftershocks. And somehow, he knows exactly what I need as he cradles my body, his lips brushing my forehead with surprising tenderness.
I stare into the darkness, hyperaware of the fact that he’s still hard against my ass. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Don’t play dumb.” I wriggle my hips back against him. “This doesn’t look comfortable.”
He catches my hip, stilling my movement. “Not about me tonight.”
“I don’t understand you,” I whisper.
“Join the club.” He squeezes my hip before relaxing his grip. “Paris?”
“Mh?”
“Will you come with me? Back to my community?”
His question transforms the atmosphere from post-orgasmic bliss to something heavier. Come with him? Leave my fortress, my sanctuary, everything I’ve built?
“To your… community?” I finally manage, my voice still unsteady from what happened.
“Iron Gate.” His thumb traces circles on my hip, casual as if he didn’t just blow my mind apart and then drop a bomb on me. “It’s secure. Walls. Gardens. People.”
“You’re kidding, right?” I twist in his arms, facing him. “Yesterday, you couldn’t wait to get away from me.”
“Things change.”
“Like what? The fact that I let you finger me?” I shouldn’t be this defensive, but my walls slam up automatically. “Is that what this was about? A girl to warm your bed?”
“Paris.” He sits up, running a hand through his hair. “I?—”
I bunch the sheets around me, the sudden modesty ridiculous, but I don’t care. “Is that all I am?”
“That’s what you think?” His voice drops low, rough-edged. “That I just want to get off?”
“You tell me. One minute you’re pushing me away, the next you’re in my bed with your hands down my pants. Then suddenly it’s ‘come join my community.’ What am I supposed to think?”
He reaches for me, but I scramble back.
