Page 9

Lily

Silas’s mouth is hot and demanding on my throat, teeth scraping just hard enough to make me shiver. He’s marking me, claiming me, like he wants the whole town to know I’m his.

I can’t lie, I love it.

Not only is this man the grumpiest giant I’ve ever met, but he’s also got a jealous and possessive side to him.

His hands push under my shirt, rough palms skimming up my ribs, and I arch into his touch before he even reaches my breasts. The fabric is gone in one impatient tug, tossed somewhere behind him, and then he’s just looking at me—eyes raking over my bare skin like he’s starving.

“Perfect,” he growls, his voice rough enough to send heat pooling low in my belly.

I huff a laugh, even as my cheeks flush. “Hardly impressive, actually.”

His gaze snaps to mine, sharp. “I love them.”

Silas doesn’t waste time before his mouth is on me, tongue circling one nipple in slow, torturous strokes before he sucks it deep.

A moan escapes from my throat as pleasure sparks straight down my spine, my toes curling against the sheets. His hand kneads my other breast, thumb brushing over the peak in time with the pull of his lips, and I swear I can feel it everywhere—like he’s lighting me up from the inside out.

“Silas—” I gasp, fingers tangling in his hair.

When he pulls off with a pop, he flicks his tongue against my other nipple and blows. “Will you let me inside, Lily? My fingers felt so good, but I want to give you more. Fuck, so much more.”

My pussy flutters at the promise in his voice. Sounding so sure of himself, I don’t need to ask him what he has to offer. I can feel his cock throbbing against the thin strip of my panties. By now, I’m sure I’ve soaked the cotton all the way through.

If my arousal isn’t what does the trick, it’s his own wetting both layers, keeping us separated each time he grinds against me.

“I will,” I promise him, my words breathless. “Please…”

His mouth curves, and one smile is all he has to show me to steal my heart. He’s so satisfied with one word.

“Please, what, Lily?”

Squirming beneath him, my hips try to lift. “I want you inside.”

Stating the obvious, I’m relieved all at once when he shoves my panties aside, introducing his fingers like it’s the first time all over again.

Before, I caved and hit my limit far too soon. Not wanting this to end, I try not to chase the pleasure that comes with his fingers stroking me where I’m most sensitive.

It’s like he’s already memorized my body. It’s unfair, and I know I’m entering a losing battle.

His fingers still working me with slow, maddening precision, he pulls back just enough to shove his boxers down, freeing his cock in one rough motion. My breath hitches at the sight—thick, flushed a deep, needy red, the head already glistening, his slit slick with arousal.

He gives himself a firm squeeze, dragging his thumb over the tip, and I whimper at the way his grip tightens, like he’s imagining it’s me instead.

He’s perfect.

His fingers finally leave me, and I whine at the loss—but then he’s there, the blunt head of his cock dragging through my slick, teasing me with just the barest pressure. He smears my arousal over himself, groaning low in his throat as he coats his length in it.

Without the patience to remove my underwear, his attention is glued to my current state.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice rough. “So fucking wet for me already.”

His tip catches at my entrance, and my hips jerk instinctively, seeking more, but he holds himself back, that infuriating control still in place.

He reaches forward, his palm sliding over my stomach in a slow, possessive stroke—like he’s savoring the thought of what’s to come, and the result of acting so recklessly.

“Gonna fill you up so well,” he promises, his thumb pressing just below my navel, as if he can already imagine the way I’ll take him. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

I nod, breathless, my fingers digging into the sheets.

He doesn’t make me wait any longer.

With a sharp, throaty groan, he pushes his way inside, stretching me open with three shallow thrusts before finishing me off with one forward push.

I cry out, back arching as he bottoms out, his hips flush against mine. For a second, neither of us moves—just the heavy, shared panting between us, the unbearable heat of him buried deep.

Then he pulls back, almost out, before repeating the same motion. Three to tease, and one to leave me clawing at the threads beneath us.

Once he connects the dots that I can survive him, my vision whites out at the edges as he gives up on the shallow jerks of his hips.

“Fuck—” His voice is wrecked, his hands gripping my hips hard enough to ache. “Knew you’d feel like this. Knew you’d take me so perfectly.”

I can only gasp, fists shaking against the bunched-up sheets as he starts a punishing rhythm, each thrust wringing another broken sound from my lips.

The bed creaks beneath us, a sharp, rhythmic protest with every snap of his hips. The sound is obscene, loud enough to disturb the peace outside.

I can’t worry too much, not when my thoughts dissolve into static each time he slams back in.

Moaning his name, my vocabulary grows limited as I forget how to speak. Releasing the sheets, I reach for him and drag his body down against mine. His thrusts morph into grinding our hips together, and I can feel it. The approach of another orgasm.

This one isn’t like the ones I experience through masturbation. I can feel the pleasure digging deep into my stomach, reaching a depth unimaginable.

Chest flush against mine, his uneven breathing brushes my ear, followed by the throaty moans that leave his lips.

His voice is rough in my ear, every ragged sound sending sparks down my spine. The slap of skin on skin is relentless, each one punctuated by my own breathless cries, the wet, filthy sound of him moving inside me.

It’s an experience I could never have imagined. One I wouldn’t give up for the world. One I’m going to grow addicted to.

When his rhythm finally fractures, when his groan shudders through me, I swear I can feel the sound vibrating against my ribs like thunder. My body stretches to take him deeper, and I lift my hips to do just that.

“I’m close—” The words tear from my throat, raw and desperate, as pleasure coils tight in my belly. His cock drags against every sensitive spot inside me, relentless, merciless, and my walls clench around him tight, but it doesn’t slow him down.

His thrusts only grow rougher, deeper, enough to make me dizzy.

A sob breaks free as the orgasm crashes over me, white-hot and all-consuming. My body arches, fingers clawing at the sheets, but he pins me down, his grip bruising, his voice a growl against my ear. “Fuck, Lily. Fuck. ”

Every pulse of my climax drags another ragged moan from my lips, my thighs trembling as he drives into me, chasing his pleasure. His rhythm turns erratic, his breath harsh against my skin, and then—

A low, guttural sound rips from his chest as he buries himself deep. I feel him spill, hot and thick, and my body instinctively clenches around him, milking every last drop. He groans, fingers digging into my hips as he lifts them, angling me just so, making sure it takes.

“Good girl,” he rasps, and the praise sends another shudder through my body. His release fills me, and I fight to catch my breath as I adjust to the overwhelming fullness—the filthy, perfect rightness of it.

When he finally stills, his weight heavy and satisfying on top of me, all I can do is gasp, my heartbeat thundering in my ears.

Then, slowly, he pulls back, bracing himself on his forearms as he looks down at me.

His eyes are heavy, filled with something deeper than desire.

Something that makes my chest ache. The way he watches me, like I’m the only thing in the world worth seeing, makes it impossible not to smile, even as my lips tremble.

He groans softly as he pulls out, and I bite back a whimper at the loss. But before I can protest, he’s shifting, pressing my knees together with a firm but gentle hand.

I laugh breathlessly. “What are you doing?”

“You read me like a book when you first entered my home.” His lips quirk as he reaches for a pillow, sliding it beneath my hips with deliberate care. His fingers trail along my thigh, sending shivers in their wake. “I do want a family.”

My breath catches as I put the pieces together pretty quickly.

He leans down, pressing a kiss to my knee—so tender it makes my heart throb. “Not two or three, though. I’m thinking four or five.”

A laugh bubbles up, half-disbelieving, half-thrilled. “Ambitious one, aren’t you?”

His gaze locks onto mine, unwavering. “I do need a wife, too, to paint the perfect future.”

This guy. Does he hear himself? So impatient, skipping all the normal steps in a relationship.

I’m no better, grinning like a fool and nodding like I’m as crazy as he is.

His thumb brushes my cheek, and I turn my face into his touch, pressing a kiss to his palm. “You bought me for a weekend, but I think you got a lifetime instead.”

His smile is slow, devastating. “Best deal I ever made.”

And just like that, I know—I’d let him bargain for my soul, if this is what he offers in return.