Page 212 of It Should Have Been You

It’s close to torture when I lower my body onto hers. With one swift movement, I push into her, drunk on how her mouth falls open and her eyes roll.

“Fuck, baby,” I rasp, sure I’ll never get sick of the way she grips my cock.

Her nails graze my skin, a fiery trail in their wake that only fuels every thrust. I lean down, claiming her mouth, our bodies moving together in a rhythm that is becoming dangerously addictive.

I remember her challenge from earlier and can’t help but smirk against her lips. She’s too far gone to notice. “Still think I can’t make a decision?” I punctuate every word with a purposeful roll of my hips that elicits a moan from deep in her throat.

Wrapping her legs around my waist, she pulls me deeper.

“Logan…” she breathes out, the rest of her words getting lost when I slam into her.

Our bodies are slick with sweat, the air in the room heavy with the scent of us. She arches beneath me, her body tightening around mine.

Pressing up on my knees, I run my thumb over her taut nipples, down the smooth skin of her stomach until I pressure it against her clit.

From here, I get to watch her.

All of her.

“Oh, God,” she cries out. Her head falls back, a soft gasp escaping her lips as pleasure overtakes her.

“Let go, baby.”

“God, Logan, don’t stop,” she pleads, her voice shaky.

I watch her, the sight of her surrendering is enough to push me to the edge. But I hold back, letting her ride the wave of her climax. It’s a sight I’ll never get tired of.

I feel her pulse around my cock, her body tightening under me until she comes undone.

Fucking addicting.

Leaning over her, my hand slips down her spine, resting at the small of her back and pressing her tighter to my chest. She whimpers, her body twitching in anticipation.

“You feel that, baby? How well we fit together?”

Her gasp is music to my ears.

I nip and suck at her nipples, tasting every inch of her and it’s still not enough. I’m close to branding her when she stutters out between ragged breaths, “I-I’m yours, Logan.”

The words coming from her mouth make me nothing short of primal. My need for her is already bordering on obsession.

She belongs to me, and I belong to her.

A renewed fervor takes over as I move, the room filled with the intoxicating sound of our bodies coming together. It’s raw, and perfectly us. I claim her lips. Her hands clutch at me, pulling me impossibly closer as I lose myself in her.

Our shared release is a crashing wave, leaving us both breathless.

Later, with her head tucked comfortably against my chest, I feel her fingers trailing over my skin. I don’t know how long we lie there, simply enjoying the peace of each other, but the rest of the world doesn’t seem to matter.

Eventually, her exploration leads her to the array of tattoos covering my skin, each one a token of my past. One by one, her fingers trace the designs as if she’s reading a language only she understands.

She pauses, her fingers outlining the inked contours of a lone wolf howling against a full moon, its face upturned and fierce. “What’s the story with this one?” she asks, her eyes never leaving the ink.

I gaze down at the tattoo, the stark black now faded slightly. It’s one of my older ones, a symbol of my youth, my rebellion, and my solitude.

“This one,” I begin, my fingers joining hers to trace the tattoo, “Is a testament to an old life. To the times I thought I had to face the world alone, like a lone wolf.” I laugh lightly at the memory of my younger, much more naïve self. “I got it when I was just a young punk, convinced that solitary was the way to survive.”

Resting her chin on my chest, she looks up at me. “Do you still think that?”

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