Page 86
Story: Under the Bed
I’ve never witnessed pleasure on anyone the way it spreads over his face. He slams his eyes shut. Scrunches his brow. It’s the pain of wanting something so much that it hurts.
He releases them with a pop and pinches my clit, flicking it with his thumb. Rubbing it in maddening circles and soaking me with his spit and my blood.
He’s a feral man. Brutal. Completely deranged. Unbearably handsome with his etched muscles and hands that drive me to the brink of insanity. He’s?—
“Mine.” He completes the sentence in my head and returns to fucking me. “Nothing wrong. Nothing could ever be wrong when it comes to you.”
“Yours,” I moan as he commands another orgasm from me. “I’m yours.”
“Going to fill you up.” He’s back to leaning over me, hand wrapped around my throat. “So close. God, I want you. This…This is the most I’ve wanted anything. Take me. Please, Shiloh.”
He barely finishes his sentence when he empties himself inside of me. He pounds his heat into me, groaning, pressing his forehead to mine.
I’m shaking while he’s there, still and powerful, grabbing both my cheeks. I’m limbless and sated, while Kaleb’s muscles feel like they’re made of stone.
He’s protecting me, I realize. Grabbing onto me.
“We need to talk,” I whisper once I’m no longer floating in outer space. About the letters I couldn’t send him. About boundaries and our life together. About Dad and getting away from him. “Please.”
His eyes cloud.
“Stay. I’m begging you.” I lean up as much as possible, pressing a kiss to his lips, which are red with my blood. “I’m asking you to stay. There are things we need to discuss.” I sigh. It’s a struggle to stitch one word to the next. I try, for him. For us. “So many things. We have to figure them out together.”
“We will. When I decide it’s time.” His deft fingers work the binds above my head. His mouth presses on my forehead the entire time. “I have other plans for us.”
“What plans?”
His response is to shove himself deeper inside me.
“Tell me.”
“Not going to ruin the fun. This time around, we’re doing things my way.”
Relief rushes through me when he releases my first wrist, then the other. He massages them, soothes the skin, then pulls out of me and sits on his heels. I lean on my forearms, flushed and hot and naked.
“You know what, Kaleb?” I’m determined to protect him. He won’t stop me. “No, we aren’t. You’re going to listen to me.”
He raises an eyebrow.
He’s hauntingly beautiful. Terrifying.
I won’t lose my nerve.
“You can’t be seen in public. At least promise me that. They’ll take you back to that place.” My protectiveness of him pushes through the sex haze. That’s what I was angry about all along. Not that he forced me. That he hurt me. I like that. What pisses me off is how careless he’s being. How he’ll ruin his life again because of me. Again. “Where do you even sleep?”
Sticking to his silence, he shakes his head.
“You owe me answers.” I lean up another inch.
He pushes me back to the bed, his hand flat on my chest. “Tomorrow.”
“What happens tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow.” He gets up, grabbing something from his jeans. One of my black thongs. It looks used, and I gasp, knowing exactly why.
“What’s tomorrow?” It’s the more important question.
One he won’t answer.
He releases them with a pop and pinches my clit, flicking it with his thumb. Rubbing it in maddening circles and soaking me with his spit and my blood.
He’s a feral man. Brutal. Completely deranged. Unbearably handsome with his etched muscles and hands that drive me to the brink of insanity. He’s?—
“Mine.” He completes the sentence in my head and returns to fucking me. “Nothing wrong. Nothing could ever be wrong when it comes to you.”
“Yours,” I moan as he commands another orgasm from me. “I’m yours.”
“Going to fill you up.” He’s back to leaning over me, hand wrapped around my throat. “So close. God, I want you. This…This is the most I’ve wanted anything. Take me. Please, Shiloh.”
He barely finishes his sentence when he empties himself inside of me. He pounds his heat into me, groaning, pressing his forehead to mine.
I’m shaking while he’s there, still and powerful, grabbing both my cheeks. I’m limbless and sated, while Kaleb’s muscles feel like they’re made of stone.
He’s protecting me, I realize. Grabbing onto me.
“We need to talk,” I whisper once I’m no longer floating in outer space. About the letters I couldn’t send him. About boundaries and our life together. About Dad and getting away from him. “Please.”
His eyes cloud.
“Stay. I’m begging you.” I lean up as much as possible, pressing a kiss to his lips, which are red with my blood. “I’m asking you to stay. There are things we need to discuss.” I sigh. It’s a struggle to stitch one word to the next. I try, for him. For us. “So many things. We have to figure them out together.”
“We will. When I decide it’s time.” His deft fingers work the binds above my head. His mouth presses on my forehead the entire time. “I have other plans for us.”
“What plans?”
His response is to shove himself deeper inside me.
“Tell me.”
“Not going to ruin the fun. This time around, we’re doing things my way.”
Relief rushes through me when he releases my first wrist, then the other. He massages them, soothes the skin, then pulls out of me and sits on his heels. I lean on my forearms, flushed and hot and naked.
“You know what, Kaleb?” I’m determined to protect him. He won’t stop me. “No, we aren’t. You’re going to listen to me.”
He raises an eyebrow.
He’s hauntingly beautiful. Terrifying.
I won’t lose my nerve.
“You can’t be seen in public. At least promise me that. They’ll take you back to that place.” My protectiveness of him pushes through the sex haze. That’s what I was angry about all along. Not that he forced me. That he hurt me. I like that. What pisses me off is how careless he’s being. How he’ll ruin his life again because of me. Again. “Where do you even sleep?”
Sticking to his silence, he shakes his head.
“You owe me answers.” I lean up another inch.
He pushes me back to the bed, his hand flat on my chest. “Tomorrow.”
“What happens tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow.” He gets up, grabbing something from his jeans. One of my black thongs. It looks used, and I gasp, knowing exactly why.
“What’s tomorrow?” It’s the more important question.
One he won’t answer.
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