Page 127 of Behind the Shadows
I gasped, the sensation sharp and electric. He circled my clit with the tip of his tongue, then sucked it into his mouth, rolling it between his lips. I writhed beneath him, thighs shaking, grasping the sheets. Every nerve inside me was a live wire.
He licked me until I was panting his name, until my hips bucked up off the mattress and I begged him for more. He slid two fingers inside me, curling them just right, hitting the spot that sent stars exploding across my vision.
Kip was relentless, his mouth and hands working in perfect tandem, coaxing me toward the brink. I came hard, my body shaking with the force of it.
He didn’t stop. He licked me through it, until I was limp and weak, sweat breaking out across my forehead. He crawled up thebed, his chin slick with my orgasm, and kissed me deep. I tasted myself on his tongue and moaned.
“God, Holland,” he said, pulling back to look at me. “You’re fucking incredible.”
I wanted him inside me, needed it so much it almost hurt. I grabbed his cock, guiding him to my entrance. He hesitated, just for a second, like he wanted to memorize how I looked in that moment.
“Are you sure?” he asked, gently.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
He pushed in, slow and steady, filling me inch by perfect inch. The stretch was exquisite, a burn that bordered on pain before melting into pleasure. He braced himself on his forearms, forehead pressed to mine, his breath mingling with mine as he bottomed out. We stayed like that for a moment, locked together, hearts pounding in sync.
My back arched off the mattress as he slid in slow and steady, his cock stretching me wide, each stroke drawing a hot ribbon of fire through my core. My muscles clenched around him, hungry for every inch, every slick thrust that slammed me open.
His eyes locked on mine—intense, determined, like he was sculpting something out of flesh and heat.
He sank so deep I could feel the tip of him pressing against the soft spot I’d never known existed, and a moan slipped out of me. I wrapped my legs around his waist, digging my heels into the curve of his hips to pull him closer. He groaned, jaw tight, the tremor in his voice betraying the effort he made not to come too fast.
“Jesus Christ, Holland,” he panted against my collarbone. “You’re so—so fucking perfect.” He bit down on my pulse point, marking me with his teeth before burying his face in the nape of my neck.
One arm braced him on the edge of the bed, knuckles white against the headboard, while the other moved over my ribs, kneading upward until his fingers found my breast. His thumb curved onto my nipple and rolled it between skin and sweat in time with his thrusts.
My fingernails scored tiny red arcs along his spine, hunting for purchase as wave after wave of pleasure battered me. I felt the damp warmth of our bodies together, the slickness making every angle and movement more acute, more electric.
He shifted his hand lower, brushing my inner thigh before slipping between my folds to seek my clit. When he landed on it, he circled with firm, unrelenting strokes.
My vision blurred and my moans turned into cries. He pulled back just enough to watch me, then slammed back in, hard and fast, as if determined to destroy the world around us with this one collision of flesh.
I came apart around him—fast and loud—my muscles seizing, heat crashing through me like molten metal. My tears streamed down my face, and I tasted the salt of them when he kissed me, his tongue sweeping mine, mirroring the rhythm of his cock. My body shook so violently it rattled the rails, and I felt him shudder as I milked him through my orgasm.
He stilled inside me, his release flooding me until I tasted him warm and heady. He collapsed beside me, arm thrown over my waist, pulling me flush against him. His palm trailed across my hipbone in a slow, gentle caress as he tried to calm the racing of his heart.
Above us, the ceiling fan whirred, its lazy sweep barely stirring the humidity in the air. He pressed a series of soft kisses across my temple and cheek, his lips landing on my jaw as if memorizing every curve.
“I love you,” he whispered so quietly I almost missed it, the words fragile, like they needed my promise to believe them.
I curled into him, breathing in the faint scent of sweat and clove from his shampoo. “I love you too,” I said, my words muffled but steady.
He laughed—warm, relieved—and tightened his grip. We lay tangled around each other, the aftermath of our bodies slowing down as the fan overhead cast spinning shadows on the walls. After a while, I drifted off to sleep.
When I woke, gold light slanted across the bed, turning every particle of dust into a drifting constellation. Kip propped himself on one elbow, his hair messy, eyes soft with awe. He reached out to brush a strand of hair from my forehead.
“You’re even more beautiful than the first time I saw you,” he murmured, voice thick with something like wonder.
I smiled, reaching up to touch his jaw. “But now I’m all yours. You own my heart, Kip.” I nipped at his lower lip, my chest threatening to burst just from looking at him. If anyone had asked me a year ago what I thought my life would look like, I never would have guessed that the boy who’d saved me would finally come home … to me.
54
KIP
Three months had passed, and the rainy season had started in the Pacific Northwest. Holland and I had settled into our relationship, and Dope and Ella had welcomed her into the group. As far as Death, I hadn’t heard shit from him since the day I’d told him about how the Pied Piper had planted me in his life. I only hoped he wasn’t out killing without anyone cleaning up after him, though. Not a day passed that I didn’t grieve that friendship.
Thank God I had the woman I loved and the Horizon Society. When Death wasn’t around to clean up the sons of bitches who needed to be ended for the abuse and horrible acts they committed, I stepped in. Dope had even joined me a few times to kill. I suspected it gave him a safe place to get rid of his pent-up anger and raw emotion he didn’t know how to handle. He’d even slowed down on the weed. Every one of us was worried that our found family might never be the same again. No matter what anyone said, I carried the guilt on my shoulders. It was my fault that we had fallen apart.
