Page 35 of The Redemption of Alex Cade
“I’m clear,” he whispered. It was a moment of stillness in the storm. I dragged my eyes open, and twisted my head around to look at him. The city lights glittered in his eyes and he watched me with an intensity that all but stopped my heart.
“Yeah.” I met his gaze and nodded. Everything good, everything fine. Alex smiled and kissed me with a ferocity that buckled my knees.
A break of the kiss, of skin against skin, before the click of a cap being flipped, lube smearing between my arse cheeks. I shivered, but it wasn’t the cool of the gel that sent a shiver through me, but Alex’s dark laughter against my ear. His fingers grazed my hole, and I pushed back against him, wanting, demanding more.
“Alex, please,” I whispered. He said something, but I didn’t hear, not over the hard thud of my heart.
His fingers worked me open, fast, efficient, stretching me. I pressed my forehead hard against the glass wall as I pushed back at him, chasing the burn, edging towards pain, both of us gasping. Nothing gentle, nothing tender, because this was about need, about release. I felt it in every touch, every rough press of his fingers, and I craved it all.
Alex pulled his fingers free. I whined and whimpered at the loss, but then I felt the blunt pressure of him against me, and all coherent thought fled.
I cried out as he pushed in hard, no easing himself in, no giving me time to adjust. He was too wound up, too desperate, and I didn’t care. Because I wanted it like this, fast and furious, all-consuming.
He rammed into me hard, grunting out his need against the back of my neck. I met him thrust for thrust, the slap of skin against skin driving us on. Each move was rough, the tension in him bleeding out with every snap of his hips. I could feel it in the way his breath hitched, the low growls that rumbled in his throat, the sheer force of his need.
“Fuck, Kit,” he said, his voice tight. “I want to hear you. I want to hear you feel every moment of this.”
A switch flipped inside me. I cried out as he drove into me, deeper, harder, faster. With every thrust, moan and whimper, jumbled and incoherent words fell from my lips.
“Kit,” he groaned, my name a rough, guttural sound that sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through me. I turned my head slightly, catching his reflection in the glass, and the sight of him—eyes dark, lips parted, his jaw tight with concentration—nearly undid me. I wasn’t going to last. Alex must have read it in my face, felt it as my muscles pulsed around his cock. He smiled, dark and wild, as a hand slipped between my legs and squeezed down on the base of my cock.
“Bastard,” I groaned, half in frustration, half in relief, as the wave of my orgasm retreated.
He pushed me back against the glass, hammering me hard, hitting my sweet spot over and over. I was crying out, swearing, moaning, groaning, all of it a senseless mess that made all the sense in the world, because this was us, this was how we should be. Alex and Kit. Kit and Alex.
His hand curled around my cock, stroking me in time with the hard snap of his hips, and this time I knew there was no going back as my climax rose and burnt a path through me.
“I’m… Alex… I can’t,” I stammered out. He sucked down on my neck, rough and hard, feeding on me and I squeezed me eyes closed, giving myself up to the overwhelming rush of sensation as I tumbled over the edge, screaming out his name as I fell, all the time bucking between his fisted hand and the hammering thrust of his hips.
Alex followed me over with a ragged, guttural groan, his body going rigid against mine as he buried himself deep one final time. I felt every pulse of him inside me as he filled me up. I felt the tremor in his hands where they gripped me. I felt every uneven stutter of his breath against my neck. I felt it all, not just in my shaking limbs, but in my heart and soul too.
For several long seconds we stayed like that, both of us trembling with aftershocks, his forehead pressed against the back of my head as our breathing gradually slowed. The glass fogged with our combined heat, obscuring the city below. Carefully, Alex withdrew. My heart lurched, the loss leaving me empty. I turned, my back against the glass for support, my legs still unsteady.
Alex stood before me, his chest rising and falling with laboured breaths. His hair, always so groomed, was messy, his lips puffy and red, almost bruised. But it was his eyes that caught me, dark and unguarded in a way I’d not seen before. My heart twisted deep in my chest, knowing he was letting me see a side to him, a private part of him, one he kept hidden from the world.
The tension that had gripped him earlier had gone. He brushed a damp a strand of hair from my face, his palm lingering on my cheek.
“Stay,” he whispered, and I knew he wasn’t just talking about the night.
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
Alex slipped an arm around my waist and led me towardthe bedroom. What little remained of my logical, thinking brain told me we needed to clean up. But I wasn’t interested in logic, not when I was drenched in Alex’s scent, in his sweat, in his sticky cum. He’d marked me, made me his. I wanted to keep hold of the evidence of that for as long as I could.
The sheets were cool against my skin as he eased me down. He climbed in beside me, pulling me close, his hand splayed over my back as if he needed to feel every inch of me.
We lay like that for a long time, the silence between us easy and comfortable. I snuggled in close, to a man who felt both dangerous yet the safest place in my world. Alex pressed a kiss to my hair, his voice not much above a whisper when he finally spoke. “I’m sorry if I was too rough.”
“You weren’t,” I said immediately, turning my head to look at him. “It was what I wanted.”
His eyes met mine in a gaze so tender it made my throat tighten. I nestled against him again and closed my eyes, letting the steady beat of his heart and the warmth of his body pressed tight against mine soften and melt my muscles. Whatever darkness had followed us home tonight was now gone, locked away on the other side of the glass walls, my last thoughts as sleep claimed me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
KIT
“Tell me again. Why am I sitting in a damp shed and looking at ducks?”
I kept my focus on the wetland, which lay under a dank, grey sky. “It’s called a hide, and those ducks are mainly water rail and common sandpiper.”
