Page 60 of Behind the Shadows
I let go of control, fucking her hard and fast, my hips snapping against hers, making her gasp with each thrust. Her head fell back against the wall, mouth open, hair sticking to her cheeks in damp arcs. I leaned in, biting into the curve of her neck, tasting the droplets of water. She shuddered, her nails clawing at my ass, pulling me deeper. My cock throbbed, impossibly hard, and I could feel her clit, swollen and slick, grinding against me.
Her moans grew louder, frantic, echoing off the tiles, louder than the groan of the old pipes. I pressed her harder against the wall, my hand snaking between her legs, fingers circling her swollen clit. She writhed, desperate, her hips bucking against me, fucking my cock like her life depended on it.
“Oh, fuck, fuck, please don’t stop—” Her voice was hoarse, pleading, a sound I wanted to hear more of. Her pussy was soaked, clenching tightly around me, pulsing through my entire body.
“Oh god,” she whispered, her words barely audible over the pounding water. And then, more desperately, “Don’t you dare stop.”
She rode out every thrust, her head thrown back, gasping, until the tremors took her, and her pussy squeezed me hard.
I pulled out, then turned her around to face the shower wall. Dropping to my knees, I parted her legs and pressed my mouthto her pussy, tasting her, licking her, making her gasp and writhe as my tongue slid into her. I lapped at her, feeling her shake, hearing her beg, before standing and lining up behind her. I pushed in, deeper than before, all the way until my hips pressed against hers. She turned her head, her cheek flat to the wall, and moaned.
She came with a violent spasm, pussy clenching my cock, nails puncturing the skin on the side of my leg. I fucked her through it, chasing my own release.
I followed, unable not to, emptying inside her in a few, short, sharp thrusts. She milked me for every last drop, wringing me dry.
She turned her head and bit my bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood, then soothed away the sting with a slide of her tongue—and that, more than anything, undid me. Somewhere deep inside I started shaking, a low-grade tremor building behind my ribcage, radiating out until it hit the tips of my fingers. Holland touched parts of me no one had ever dared to reach. She held the broken pieces of my heart like they were worth saving. And for the first time in my life, I wondered if I might be worth saving after all.
25
HOLLAND
I had the opportunity to escape, yet I hesitated. It seemed irrational, but part of me didn’t want to go. I could see the shattered pieces in Kip, and his darkness was both unsettling and compelling at the same time. I felt drawn to it, even as I questioned my own sanity. He didn’t need to restrain me or prevent my departure because I was caught in a web of my own conflicting desires.
I held his cheeks gently, gazing into his colorless eyes as the water cascaded around us. Uncertainty clouded my thoughts about what the future held, yet a part of me was eager to discover it. It wasn't about seeking protection; even on the days when Draco frightened me, I had defeated him once and believed I could do so again. But now, I wasn't alone. Kip stood by my side, and while that should have brought comfort, it also stirred my anxiety, as I questioned whether I was ready to rely on someone else. Over the years, I’d held everyone at arm’s length, and now I was willing to let someone in. I hoped like hell I wasn’t making a mistake.
He nipped at my ear. “I’m glad I didn’t kill you years ago.”
I threw my head back and laughed. “Me too.”
Kip reached behind him, and the sound of the rushing water abruptly stopped as he turned off the shower. Steam swirled around us, misting the bathroom mirrors and carrying a warm, humid scent. He opened the glass door and reached for the towel he had neatly placed on the edge of the sink. The fabric was soft and plush, still carrying the faint aroma of fresh detergent.
With a gentle gesture, he extended his hand toward me, helping me step out of the shower and onto the plush bathmat, which felt warm and comforting beneath my feet. He carefully began to dry my hair, the towel absorbing the droplets that clung to each strand. His touch was tender as he moved from my hair to my shoulders, and then to every inch of my body, his actions deliberate and filled with care. His gentleness was both soothing and unsettling, more intimidating than his possessive nature, yet it marked a shift in the dynamics between us—a silent promise to look after one another.
As I dressed, he dried himself off, each movement accentuating the powerful lines of his tattooed and muscled physique. My attention was drawn to him. I was unable to look away, my breath catching in my throat. A stirring heat rose inside me, a tangible reaction to his presence, as every fiber of my being responded to the sight of him. He stood before me, a masterpiece of strength and artistry. He was a tattooed, muscled god. I nearly dropped to my knees and worshipped him, but I would have to save that for later.
“Kip?” I asked. “No more chains. If you want to tie me up and fuck me with your cross, I’ll do that willingly. You need to believe me when I say I want to be here. Are we clear?”
He gave me a lopsided grin. “You’d let me fuck you with my cross?”
I rolled my eyes. “Is that what you took away from that?”
He wrapped the towel around his waist and took my hand as he led us out of the bathroom and to one of the bedrooms. Foran old warehouse, it had everything someone would need to hide for a while, and I wondered why.
“I heard you.” He reached beneath the bed, removed a duffel bag, and tossed it onto the mattress. My attention remained glued to him as he dressed in jeans that hung low on his hips and hugged his ass and thighs. His expression turned solemn. “I killed someone, Holland. Maybe it wasn’t you, but it was a redheaded girl. I snapped that day, something inside me isn’t right. I’m not like other people who have normal feelings. Iliketo kill. I love the power to end someone and then remove every trace of their existence from the fucking earth.” He sighed before he pulled his navy T-shirt over his head.
I stopped myself from throwing my arms around him and soothing the ugly demons that were clearly tormenting him. The urge to comfort him was overwhelming, but I couldn't become Holland the psychiatrist. I had to stand firm as Holland, the woman who was falling for him. His equal.
“The difference now is that I can channel it to men like Draco. If there’s a thing such as redemption, then that’s how I try to earn mine. Help innocent women and children.”
“Will you tell me more?”
A hush fell over the room followed by the loud growl of my stomach. I grinned, embarrassed. “It’s been a while since I’ve eaten.”
“Shit.” He glanced at his watch. “How about almost twenty-four hours?” He took my hand again and led me to the living room and tiny kitchen. “Sit and I’ll make us something to eat.”
I sank onto the chair he’d been sitting on earlier and stared at the chain resting on the floor. “You cook?”
He half shrugged. “If I don’t cook, I don’t eat. It’s that simple.”
