Page 24 of Deep Feelings & Shallow Graves

“You can take it like this, dove?” I ask, dragging the head of my cock along her soaked slit. “This deep?”

“Fuck, yes.”

I snap my hips forward and bury myself in one brutal thrust.

She screams in overwhelmed pleasure, the angle hitting her so deep it touches her soul. Her back arches off the bed. The restraints strain. She moans like she’s breaking.

“God, yes, Edgar, oh my God.”

I lose my fucking mind. I set a punishing rhythm, driving into her so hard the bed creaks. I lean forward and spank her once, then again, sharp little smacks to the meat of her ass, just enough sting to send her spiraling.

“You love it, don’t you? Love getting fucked like this, tied up and used and still so goddamn sweet.”

She sobs, mouth falling open, eyes wet from how good it feels.

“Say it,” I snarl, bending to bite her throat. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, yours, Edgar!”

I reach down, finding her clit, rubbing ruthless circles while I hammer into her. Her mouth trembles. She goes so quiet I know she’s right on the edge.

“Come again for me,” I order. “Be a good girl and let go.”

She shatters. Hard. Back bowing, cunt clenching so tight I nearly fucking black out. Her cries echoes off the walls, raw and perfect, and I fuck her through it, chasing my own high like a man possessed.

One last thrust, and I give up control, spilling inside her, loud, ragged, forehead to hers, restraints creaking and bodies slick with sweat and sin.

We collapse in a tangle, breathless and wrecked, and I kiss her wrists, her lips, every bruised and ruined place I’ve claimed.

She’s limp beneath me. Fucked senseless. And still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

I press a kiss to her ankle, then to the inside of her knee. Her breath hitches, too sensitive now, every touch a spark. I ease her legs down from my shoulders. She moans, quiet and raw, as I settle over her and cup her flushed cheek.

“You okay?” I ask, voice still husky.

She nods, eyes full of stars. “More than okay.”

God. My heart twists. I kiss her. Not to possess now, but to thank. Then I move to her wrists.

The restraint is damp with sweat. I unbind her, kissing each red mark as it appears, rubbing gentle circles into the skin I’d bound tight.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, brushing my mouth to her pulse. “You were perfect. But I still… if anything hurt…”

“It didn’t.” Her voice is certain. “I wanted it. All of it. Especially from you.”

A breath punches out of me. Relief. Adoration. Something else too big for a name.

I pull her into my arms then, arms that just minutes ago held her down, and now only want to hold. Wrap her tight to my chest, her face tucked to my throat, our legs tangled, the scent of sex still thick in the room but the air soft now. Gentle.

She makes a small sound, contented, and I press my nose to her hair, breathing her in.

“I’ve got you,” I say. “You’re safe. You’re everything.”

She hums, hands stroking along my ribs, up my back. “You’re different after.”

“After?”

“After you fuck me like you’re going to break me.”

I chuckle, low in my chest. “That’s because I do break you.”

“Mm. Maybe a little.”

“I’ll always put you back together,” I promise. “Every time. You’re precious to me. I don’t take that lightly.”

She kisses my collarbone. “I know.”

We lie there in the dark, limbs still sticky, skin overheated, but nothing in me wants to move. I could keep her like this forever.

I’m half gone. Floating.

Her body sprawled over mine like a warm silk blanket. My fingers are still tracing lazy patterns along her spine, chest rising and falling under hers. The scent of her is in my lungs, my mouth, soaked into my skin.

And then she shifts.

I blink, startled as her thigh swings over mine and she straddles me.

“Hey,” I start, but she shushes me with a kiss. Not rough. Not needy. Just full of knowing.

“I’m not done with you,” she whispers, voice all husky velvet. “That okay?”

Okay?

She’s sitting over my cock like she owns it and I’m already getting hard again. I nod, jaw tight, heart thudding so hard I swear she can feel it.

“I wanted to say thank you,” she says, grinding slow against me, wet heat slicking my length. “You take such good care of me. I want to take care of you.”

Christ.

Her hand wraps around me, lines me up, and then, sweet fucking heaven, she sinks down. Slow. Torturous. Perfect.

My hands clamp to her hips, instinct and reverence colliding. “Jesus. Dove…”

She moves, a slow roll of her body like waves lapping at the edge of something sacred. No urgency, just connection. Just her giving, and me barely able to take it.

“You feel so good,” she breathes, nails scraping lightly down my chest. “So full. So deep.”

My head tips back. I groan.

She’s riding me like I’m the one who needs worship now. And fuck if I don’t. My hands keep finding her waist, her thighs, her hair. I can’t choose what to hold on to.

“You make me feel everything,” she says, leaning down, kissing my throat. “Like I’m real. Like I’m wanted.”

I look up at her, breath shattered. “You are. You’re mine.”

She smiles, eyes wet with emotion but burning. “Then let me be yours. Like this.”

Her pace stays gentle, unrushed, and it’s killing me. This isn’t about fucking, this is making love, and it’s undoing me far more than rope or pain ever could. My body tenses, that knot of pleasure winding higher, hotter, as she rides me to the edge.

I try to hold off, to let her keep this rhythm, this gift. But she leans in and whispers against my lips, “Come for me, Edgar.”

I do. Hard.

She stays on top of me, wrapped around me, kissing my jaw, my lips, my chest.

And I realize, she didn’t just take control. She owned me.

And I fucking loved it.

We’re tangled up, sheets a mess, sweat drying on our skin, and still neither of us is willing to move. She’s curled against me, her leg hooked over mine, claiming territory.

My arm’s around her waist. My other hand’s in her hair, stroking slow.

I feel her breath even out. Not asleep, but getting there.

I should let her drift. But something’s pressing behind my ribs.

Heavy. True. It burns a hole in me not to say it.

So I do. Quietly. Truthfully. “I didn’t know I could be this happy. ”

She shifts just enough to look up at me. Eyes glassy with sleep. Or maybe something else.

I run my knuckles along her cheekbone. “Didn’t think it was for me. That kind of softness. That kind of… peace.”

She doesn’t speak. Just brushes her fingers along my chest, over my heart.

“You make me feel like I’ve got a home,” I whisper. “Like I’m not just some sharp-edged thing trying not to cut the world.”

Her eyes close again, lashes brushing her cheeks. “You are my home,” she says.

I’m undone again. Not with lust this time. Not with hunger. With something much bigger. I hold her tighter, bury my face in her hair, and let the quiet take us.

She falls asleep first.

For the first time I can remember, I don’t stay awake listening for danger.

I stay awake listening to her breathe. Listening to peace.