Page 65 of Scarlet Mark
Amara had awoken a beast inside me, and that beast required surrender.Hersurrender. Over and over and over again. Until I worked her out of my system.
Except I knew that would never happen. She’d slain me. Well and truly. From the inside out. I was done.
Possessed.
Destroyed.
Reborn.
Amara Rose was no longer a job. She wasn’t even a client.
She’d just become my lover. And fuck if I wanted to fight it.
The woman was made for me. Just as I was made for her.
She’s mine.
And anyone who tried to take her from me would die.
Amara
“Are you sore, kitten?” Killian murmured, his lips against my ear as he thrust into me from behind.
“God, you’re insatiable,” I moaned, pressing back into him to provide deeper access.
Five days in Charlotte and he woke me up in a similar manner every morning—with either his cock between my thighs, or his tongue. And damn, I couldn’t deny him. I needed this just as badly as he did. Craved it. Adored it.
He trailed kisses along my neck, sending a shiver of longing down my spine.
After this would be breakfast, then training. That’d become our routine. He wanted me to be comfortable with weapons, specifically guns. But he taught me a few things about knives, too. Mostly how to disarm someone and toss the blade away.
Granted, every time I tried a move on him, I failed.
He was just too damn fast and strong andbig.
Just like his dick.
Seriously, the man embodied perfection. He had muscles in places I didn’t know existed on a man, and he used every lean, sinewy inch to his advantage. Both in sparring and in the bedroom.
Always carrying a hint of pain underlined in an ecstasy I’d only ever experienced in his arms.
Hard.
Fast.
Thorough.
“Killian,” I breathed, my orgasm mounting. He bit my pulse, yanking me backward with the sharp sting of his teeth. Then shoving me forward with a thrust I felt in my throat. He created a dichotomy within me that I didn’t know how to handle. It erased all thought, forced me to remain focused on him, the moment, our connection,this.
I shuddered, my body moving to his command, my nipples throbbing, my clit begging. And as if he heard me, he slid his hand from my hip to the place I needed him most, and played me with expert skill.
I shattered around him, stars blinking behind my eyes and sending me to a plane of existence not of this world.
Every. Fucking. Time.
Part of me expected the sensation to diminish, to grow used to this insanity, but each experience with him felt brand new with a touch of old. As if we’d always done this. As though we were re-created for one another, our spirits intertwined for all of eternity.
I’d never believed in soul mates.
