Page 41 of A Cobbled Conspiracy

“Always,” I breathed.

“How do you want me?” I asked, though I suspected I already knew the answer.

“Turn around,” he said, his hands already guiding me to face the wall again. “Hands flat against the wall, legs spread.”

I complied, feeling exposed and vulnerable in the best possible way. When he stepped up behind me, his chest against my back, his cock pressing against my entrance, I felt completely claimed.

“You sure you want this?” he asked, his voice gentler despite the dominant position. “We’re both still angry.”

“I’m sure,” I said, pushing back against him. “I need this. Need you.”

He pushed into me slowly, letting me adjust to his size despite the urgency that had driven us to this point. When he was fully seated inside me, we both went still for a moment, breathing hard.

“You feel so good,” he said against my ear. His fingers dug into my hip while his other hand traced along my spine, eliciting goosebumps across my skin. “So tight, so perfect for me.”

Then he started moving, and all thoughts of our argument disappeared under waves of pleasure. Each thrust drove deep, finding that perfect spot that made my vision blur.

“This is what you need,” he said, his voice rough with exertion. “Tell me you need this, baby.”

“Yes,” I gasped, my hands scrabbling for purchase against the smooth wall. “Oh, yes… don’t stop.”

“Never,” he promised, his pace increasing. “Going to take care of you always, going to keep you safe and satisfied and mine.”

The possessive promise, combined with the perfect angle of his thrusts, sent me spiraling toward another climax. When he reached around to stroke my cock in rhythm with his movements, I came with a shout.

My body clenching around his cock sent him over the edge. He tensed, muscles rigid as he drove forward. With a final powerful thrust, he buried himself to the hilt, his deep groan vibrating against my back as his warmth filled me.

We stayed like that for a long moment, both of us breathing hard, letting the intensity of what had just happened settle between us. When he finally pulled out, I felt empty and satisfied in equal measure.

“Come here,” he said, turning me around and pulling me against his chest. “Let me hold you.”

I melted into his embrace, the anger from our argument finally dissolving under the weight of physical satisfaction and emotional exhaustion. His scent was warm and comforting around me, mixed with the musk of our recent activities.

“We’re still going to argue about the housing situation,” I said against his chest.

“I know,” he said, his hands stroking through my hair. “But we’re going to figure it out together.”

Before I could respond, he surprised me by bending down and scooping me up in his arms, carrying me toward the stairs that led to my apartment.

“W—what are you doing?”

“Taking care of you properly,” he said, navigating the narrow stairs with practiced ease. “I know the way.”

My heart fluttered with affection and arousal in equal measure. He did know the way—to my small kitchenette, my cozy bedroom, and to the bathroom where he could clean us both up properly.

In the bathroom, he was gentle and thorough, cleaning away the evidence of our passionate encounter with warm washcloths and soft touches. The tenderness was almost overwhelming after the intensity of what had just happened. His hands were reverent as they moved over my skin, checking for any soreness, making sure I was comfortable.

When he helped me into a clean shirt, his fingers lingered on my skin in ways that made my pulse quicken again.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his hands stilling on the fabric. “For being a controlling bastard earlier. I know you’re not fragile. I just… when it comes to protecting you, I don’t always think clearly.”

The apology was exactly what I needed to hear. “I know you’re just trying to protect me. But I need to be part of the decisions that affect our life together.”

“You’re right. I know you're right,” he said, fastening his slacks. “Feel better?”

“Much,” I said, watching him button what remained of his shirt with the kind of casual grace that still made my breath catch.

He reached into the pocket of his slacks and pulled out a small orange bottle, shaking one white pill into his palm before dry-swallowing it with practiced efficiency.