Page 78 of Red Flagged
I slammed into her again. And again. And again. My body was a machine. My heart was an altar. My rage was a fucking hymn. Each thrust was brutal, punishing, built on the desperate need tofeelher. My head dropped back, rain cooling my feverish skin.
There was no concept of where we were, who could see us, what rules we were breaking. The world had narrowed to this, to rain and skin and the sound of her moans caught between thunderclaps. Two wild things fucking to survive.
“Youdon’tget to tell me how to love you,” I snarled, one hand gripping the back of her neck, pressing her face down into the hood. “But youwillfucking feel it.”
I leaned over her while I ruined her from behind. “This is how I fucking love you, Aurélie. With everything I’ve got. With every last broken piece of me.” I bit her shoulder, relishing in the feel of wet fabric and flesh between my teeth. “With my cock. With my fists. With myname on your goddamn tongue.”
Her walls clamped down around me, and the edges of my vision darkened.
“Harder—”
“You’ll get what I give you,” I growled, pounding deeper, harder, faster.
So I did.
Rough. Fast. Borderline savage. The sound of slick skin and rain and ragged breaths cutting through the storm.
“More,” she sobbed.
Our rhythm turned frantic, almost violent. The slap of wet skin against wet skin. The storm screaming above us. Her moans were gasps now. Our bodies trembled. And I chased her over that edge like a fucking animal—no logic, no need, just the need to break her open and crawl inside.
She shattered, screamed, tore the fucking sky in half, and I followed the way I always would. I groaned her name like a curse and a prayer and like it was the only thing that had ever mattered.All at once.
I spilled inside her, hips jerking, chest heaving, lips on her neck.
A storm within the storm.
I didn’t move. I was still buried deep, pulsing inside her, my hand planted firmly on the nape of her neck, the other gripping her hip like she might vanish if I let go. Rain hissed off the hood like applause, steam rising between our bodies.
“Still mad at me?” I rasped, voice shredded.
She gave a laugh so wrecked it cracked something open in me.
“Fuckinglivid.”
Good. That made two of us.
I pulled out slow—just to hear her whimper. She was already trembling. Her thighs quivered.
I dragged her up with both hands, chest to her back now, whispering in her ear with venom-soft tenderness.
“Then you just need to tell me. Scream it. Say it. I don’t care. Hate me, baby. Bite me. Scratch me. Fucking bleed me if you need to—butdon’twalk away from me.”
Her breath caught.
I spun her around, hands locked on her waist. She blinked up at me, rain running down her cheeks, wet hair tangled in her lashes. Her lip was split—bitten, not bloodied—and her lipstick had long since vanished, but she’d never looked more goddamn divine.
“I love you,” she whispered. “Even when I hate you.”
“Good.” I crashed my mouth to hers like I could inhale the fight from her lungs.
She kissed me back harder. Sloppier. Our teeth clashed. Her nails tore at my shirt, digging into the chest that ached only for her.
When we broke apart, both of us panting, she shoved at me weakly. “This doesn’t change anything.”
“No,” I agreed, dragging my knuckles over her jaw. “But it proves one thing.”
She narrowed her eyes.
