Page 78 of All the Things We Buried

His hands left the piano. They gripped my head. He thrust deeper, fingers twisting in my hair, holding me down until I was choking on him, my throat stretched full. Then suddenly he pulled out.

He stood, taking Nagi by the body and slowly unwinding her from my throat.

I gasped, air rushing in, lungs aching. I was trembling as I stood.

He placed Nagi gently back on the piano and reached for me, guiding me upright.

He wiped the drool from my lips, then licked it from his thumb. His eyes burned. He closed the piano lid with a thud and lifted me onto it. His mouth crashed into mine.

It wasn’t a kiss. It was devouring.

He shoved his tongue down my throat like he wanted to erase me from the inside out. There was no room to breathe, no space to think. I clung to him, hungry.

I spread my legs as he stepped closer. His hands found the edge of my panties beneath the sheer white of my nightdress. He slid them down and tossed them aside. Then, without breaking eye contact, he yanked the dress over my head and dropped it.

He grabbed beneath my thighs, lifted me, then drove into me in one brutal, perfect thrust.

No teasing. No warnings. Just him, deep inside, claiming what he had waited for.

My head fell back, palms pressing against the cool piano as I moaned his name.

“Dorian.”

He bit into my neck, and I arched into him, legs wrapping around his waist. His hand slid up to my breast, fingers gripping, mouth hot on my throat as he fucked me.

“Tell me,” he growled, voice ragged. “Tell me how it feels to fuck your stepbrother, Trouble.”

He leaned in, grinning against my skin.

“Does it feel good?”

He leaned closer, his thrusts quicker now, voice a whisper against my neck.

“Show me.”

Our eyes locked. Our mouths hovered, breathing the same desperate air. Then he lifted me from the piano with his strong arms and carried me into the room. He sank into the leather sofa, and I straddled him, legs trembling as I settled onto his lap.

His cock filled me again. My back arched. I moved slowly at first, rolling my hips, savoring the stretch, the way he dragged against every nerve ending. The wet sound of skin against skin was loud in the dark, and the leather beneath us groaned.

All I saw was him.

I forgot the ghosts that haunted us. Forgot everything except the man beneath me.

Dorian’s hands gripped my waist. He didn’t guide me. He let me move the way I needed, let me take. His chest rose as he watched me ride him.

I moved faster. Harder.

My thighs burned. My hair clung to my damp skin. Candlelight flickered across the walls like spirits were circling, drawn by the heat building between us.

I moaned, bracing my palms on his shoulders as I slammed down onto him again and again, chasing that edge.

“Tell me I’m yours,” I breathed against his ear, trembling.

He pulled me close, lips brushing mine.

“Only mine,” he whispered, and kissed me. We didn’t pull away. Couldn’t. We were starving for each other, possessed.

Something moved in the corner of the room. But we didn’t stop.