Page 36 of Hellbent (Snakes & Daggers #1)

I become aware that I’m crying out. That he is. Grunts and moans and wild, panting breaths. I’m clawing his back, pulling his hair. He’s biting my neck, our bodies slamming together in a rhythm too desperate to hold back.

The pressure builds in me until it’s unbearable—and then I detonate.

The breath punches out of my lungs, my body clenches tight around him, and I dig my fingers into his shoulders, gasping, grinding against him as the climax rips through me.

It’s more than a release. It’s a return. A resurrection.

Like my body finally remembers it’s mine.

Like my soul just slammed back into place.

I cry out, loud and wrecked, and it’s his name—

Ryder.

Again.

Ryder.

Again.

Ryder.

He starts pumping faster. He’s unraveling beneath me, hanging on by a thread. I clench around him again, still pulsing from the aftershocks, and he loses it.

His jaw drops. His eyes slam shut.

“Fuck,” he chokes out. “I’m gonna come.”

“Do it,” I whisper, barely able to breathe. “It’s okay.”

That’s all it takes.

He groans and threads a hand into my hair, gripping tight as he tilts my face toward his—forcing our eyes to meet. His stare is black with need, wild and burning, and he doesn’t look away as his hips slam up, his brow twisted in something like agony—

And then he breaks.

He roars into me, muscles locking, abs flexing hard under my thighs.

I feel every pulse of him spill deep. Every shuddering twitch of his body.

He holds me there, grinding into me, his eyes never leaving mine.

The sounds he makes are pure instinct. There’s no language left.

He sags back against the wall, his chest heaving, his cock twitching inside of me with the last waves of release.

He unkinks his fingers, lets his hand loosen in my hair, and I fall forward and collapse into him, burying my face into his neck and feeling his heart slamming against mine. Our chests rise and fall together for a long time.

He starts to slip out of me, his cum spilling out with him, and still we don’t move.

And after a while the questions start to surface.

What did we just do? And what happens now?

But before I can go too far down that path, he speaks.

“Let’s go upstairs.”

We stand and he pulls his jeans the rest of the way off and we chuckle as we walk upstairs together naked, his hand in mine.

He opens the door to his bedroom and steps aside to let me pass.

The bed is unmade. Probably the messiest it’s ever been. I lie down on the black sheets and he climbs over me, hands planted on either side of my head, his chest inches above mine.

His eyes search my face, and then he kisses me, softly and deep. I wrap my legs around his hips, pulling him down against me. His skin is hot. And I’m surprised to find that his cock is already hard again, pressing thick and heavy between us.

He grinds against me, and I meet him with a soft inhale.

His lips trail down my throat, grazing the curve of my collarbone, the slope of my breast. One hand drags down my side, tracing the line of my body. When his fingers slip between my thighs, he groans into my neck.

His fingers slide between my legs, his touch rhythmic and unhurried, and my thighs fall open, my back arches.

He teases me gently, coaxing my body to soften all over again, and suddenly I’m bucking beneath him, pleasure flashing hot across my skin.

A cry tears from my lips as the orgasm hits, stealing my breath and bending my spine.

I’m still trembling when he shifts his weight, positioning himself at my entrance.

Then slowly, he pushes inside. Inch by inch. His hips roll deep, and I sink into the feeling with a soft gasp.

His body is so large, so solid over mine, every inch of him radiating heat. I run my hands up his ribs, over the slope of his shoulders, across the wide expanse of his back. The muscles there flex and ripple with every motion. He’s a living furnace. A beast of a man holding himself barely in check.

He moves slowly, each thrust pushing a soft, breathy sound out of me.

My legs tighten around his waist. My hands slide into his hair and I tug gently, needing him impossibly closer.

His breath saws against my ear, hot and uneven. I feel his entire body vibrate with restraint. He slides a hand between us, pushes down on my inner thigh, spreading me wider, fucking me deeper, and the pressure inside me builds again.

I come with a soundless cry, my entire body clenching tight around him, trembling from the inside out. It rolls through me like a tide, stealing my breath.

He moans and tightens his grip, lowering his mouth to mine, devouring me as he fucks me, harder and faster, until his breathing turns ragged, and he comes with a growl buried in his chest, his muscles locking tight, the full force of him pouring into me as his orgasm hits.

His body shakes against mine. He falls on top of me, sliding his arms under my back, tight around me, hearts pounding in unison.

He doesn’t pull out right away. His hips keep moving—slow, rolling thrusts as the last of the sensation ripples through him, and then we just lie there in the dark—bodies still joined, hearts racing.

The room is dark and quiet, filled with the heavy aftermath.

My eyes flutter closed.

The awareness in my body begins to melt, inch by inch. Every muscle lets go.

I’m warm. I’m safe. I’m with him.

Sleep comes slowly…then all at once.

I’m running again.

Barefoot, breath ragged, trees whipping past like shadows with teeth. The ground is cold and wet beneath me, slick with mud and blood. I don’t know whose. Maybe mine. Maybe his.

Branches claw at my arms. My legs burn.

There’s noise behind me—engines, laughter, the thud of boots on dirt—but when I look back, there’s no one. Just eyes in the dark. Watching.

Waiting.

I trip. Fall. Land hard on my hands and knees, skin tearing on gravel, pain slicing up my spine. I scramble up, try to run—but my legs won’t work.

I’m crawling.

Something moves ahead of me.

A shape in the dark.

Ryder.

But not him. Not exactly.

He’s in shadow, backlit by headlights that don’t have a source. His hair is wild. His fists drip red. His chest rises like he’s just come from battle—but his eyes are wrong. Black and vacant. Not seeing me.

“Help me,” I whisper.

He doesn’t move.

Behind me, a hand wraps around my ankle, tight and cold.

I scream but no sound comes out.

The forest goes still. Not quiet. Like it’s holding its breath.

I look back up—he’s gone.

And the dark closes in.

I wake with a gasp, heart thudding, lungs locked. Sweat clings to the back of my neck, my skin clammy and cold.

I’m pinned—heavy weight pressing down on me.

Panic flares, and I squirm, trying to break free. Ryder groans low in his throat, shifting off of me with a rough breath, and I sit up, breathing fast, eyes wide and sightless in the dark room.

The dream clings to me. Trees. Blood. His voice. My legs that wouldn’t move.

I press a hand to my chest, trying to still my heart, and Ryder reaches out, his hand closing over mine, warm and solid, fingers interlacing. He pulls my hand down to my side.

“Hey.” His voice is low and groggy. “It’s okay.”

His voice, his warmth, the weight of his hand—it pulls me back into reality. The dream fades at the edges, chased back into the corners of my mind by his touch.

I exhale a shaky breath and lie back down beside him, turning to face him in the dark, our hands still tangled between us.

His eyes blink, watching me, but we don’t speak. Don’t move.

I focus on listening to his breathing, feeling the warmth of him beside me.

After a while, he untangles our fingers and brushes his hand down my side, the backs of his fingers over my ribs, a gentle stroke beneath the curve of my breast. I exhale through my nose, tension bleeding out in the quiet.

His hand rests there, still for a beat. Then moves again.

A slow circle. Then another.

Impossible, but somehow, after everything, the need is still there. Rising again. Low and warm in my belly. A slow ache building with every pass of his thumb.

I shift closer, my thigh brushing his beneath the sheets. My palm finds the hot expanse of his chest and rests there, feeling the steady thump of his heart under my hand.

His hand slips lower, drawing a line down my side. His fingers trace my hip, then back up again, painting slow shapes into my skin.

My body stirs. There’s no urgency now, just a slow burn winding its way back through me.

Our legs tangle under the sheets. I can feel the slow rise of him between us, already stirring back to life.

When I roll onto my back, he comes with me—covering me again, this time with a softness that makes something ache deep in my chest.

He doesn’t rush.

His hands frame my face, fingers brushing through my hair, and he kisses me gently.

His hips press against me, and I feel the unmistakable weight of his cock between us—thick and hard against my stomach.

I shift beneath him, parting my legs, and he sinks into me.

The stretch is familiar now. Welcome. My body opens for him like it was made for this—made for him—and I gasp softly, head tilting back against the pillow.

He moves slowly, rhythmic and tender. I slide my hands up his back, over the muscles of his shoulders, down to the small of his back where I can pull him closer. He groans into my neck, and I feel it vibrate all the way through me.

His kisses are slow, lips trailing over my throat, my collarbone, the swell of my breast. My body shivers under his touch, every nerve tuned to him.

I arch into him, and his rhythm deepens. I feel my orgasm coming again. He moves with me, guiding me toward it with the kind of focus that borders on devotion.

When I come, it rises slow and deep, spreading out from my core, radiating out through my limbs. I tighten around him, breath stalling, nails digging into his back, and hold on like he’s the only thing keeping me tethered to this earth.

He lets out a low, guttural groan, and deep inside of me, he pulses as he comes. Slow, shuddering, his body pressing deeper, anchoring us together.

He collapses into me with a quiet exhale, but this time, after a moment, he rolls off to the side.

His hand finds mine, and we just lie there, tangled in sweat and breath and everything that’s changed between us.

This time, when sleep finds me, it’s soft.

And I don’t dream.