Page 153 of The Loathing

“Keep going,” I beg, panting as I break away from our kiss and he works my body, lifting me up and down as he slips in and out of my aching core. My fingers trail down between my legs as I rub them gently over my sensitive clit, my pussy tightening as I move with him, the head of his cock rubbing the aching spot that I so desperately need touched.

Just as I feel the prickle of pleasure begin to coat my skin, Titus stands, my legs wrapping round his waist as he presses me against the cool wall behind us. I tighten my grip round him, his hands skim underneath me, his fingers digging into the bare skin of my ass. He slips out of me to the tip, slowly teasing with gentle thrusts and I can feel the burn radiating through me, heat blooming between my legs and I can hear just how wet I am.

“I’m close,” I close my eyes when I feel his lips on my neck.

“I love fucking you,” Titus pants as he pulls back then slams into me hard.

“Shit,” I whisper, my fingers digging into his shoulders, “do that again,” I plead, my body beginning to tremble as he pulls to the tip and holds it for just a moment before rocking his hips forward hard.

“Fuck me Titus, hard and fast,” I cry out, pleasure rippling through me and I don’t care if we get caught in this moment.

His perfect, thick cock slips in and out of me with ease, a delicious, burning ache brewing deep inside of me as I feel the pressure teasing as he fucks me fast, my back hitting against the wall on each thrust.

“Oh,” I whimper, “Titus,” I breathe as my head dips forward, but Titus’ hand leaves my ass and is up round my throat within half a second.

“Look at me as you come, Little Red,” his fingers wrap at the base of my throat and I have no idea what he has done to me but I smile, my orgasm teetering as I give a gentle stroke over my clit as he pounds into me one last time and I explode around him, biting on my bottom lip to stifle my moan and ignoring that I drew blood as I feel his cock pulse inside of me as his orgasm rips through him, his head tipping back as he continues to fuck me hard.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, pinning me to the wall with his hips and cupping my face with his hands as we both pant, catching our breaths.

“I’m not ready for tomorrow,” I admit, locking my hands round his neck and holding him tightly.

“Neither am I baby, but it’s out of our control.”

“At least we have today,” I give a sad smile.

And he nods.

“At least we have today,” he repeats, his mouth slanting over mine as we lose ourselves in each other once more and all the worry of tomorrow slowly slips away.

CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

TITUS

WEDDING DAY

I ignore the sickly feeling that rolls through me. I stayed with Amora last night. Wolfe was away on business, but Hunter made himself known most of the evening. The control I had to have to not let my hand rest on her non-existent bump was torture. I have to convince myself that there is no baby because if I let my mind actually accept that she is pregnant, I will destroy everything that Xavier has worked so hard on.

It had just turned twelve and Wolfe and Amora were to be married at dusk and I ignore the searing pain of my heartbreak.

Twilight.

My favorite time of day and the reason for her nickname and I can’t help but think that sick fuck knows that.

He isn’t stupid, he knows we sneak around but that’s what I don’t understand. No other man would allow it. He is aggressive and possessive, but he does nothing to stop it happening. If roles were reversed, I would have outed me weeks ago.

The whole thing is iffy, and I have said that from the beginning.

The bathroom door goes, and Amora walks out wrapped in a towel as she walks across the room.

“You okay?” I ask as she keeps her head down.

We have hardly spoken this morning and I don’t know what to say or ask. I know it’s because of what today is, but the thought of us spending our last day together not speaking is killing me.

“Fine,” she forces a smile on her face as she sits down at her dressing table.

I sigh, my eyes drifting to her wedding dress that is hanging up.

“What time is your mom coming over?” I try my luck asking her something else.

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