Page 115 of His Trick

For my fucking cock.

“God, look at you,” I growled, one hand sliding lower, gripping him through the wet denim, hard despite the buzz, and in spite of his protests. “You hate yourself for this. You hate me more. But your body, my Good Boy. Fuuuuck. Your body always remembers me.”

His knees buckled, and I caught him, forcing him back up, forcing him to bear the weight of me. My hand worked at his belt, the storm hiding the sharp clink of metal and the slide of fabric. He let out a strangled noise that tore right through me.

“Carrington…don’t. You can’t?—”

“Don’t?” I bit his shoulder, hard enough to bruise, and deep enough to make my fucking sister question. “Tell me to stop, Sunshine. Tell me to walk away. Tell me you want her.” My hand wrapped around his dick, hot and slick despite the cold rain. Hiswhole body jolted, a broken moan clawing out from his throat. “I will leave. But you won’t, will you? You need me. You fucking want me…you love me.”

His answer was silence. Just a choked groan as I fisted his dick, his head falling forward against my shoulder, his body betraying every word his mouth couldn’t admit.

I stroked him, slow at first, then harder, punishing him with each drag to the edge. Each gasp from him was a brand on my soul, cementing how fucking much I needed him. How lost I was without him.

“You’ll go back to her bed tonight,” I murmured against his ear, venom curling with need in my gut. “You’ll try to be the good man, the safe man. But you’ll know, deep down, you gave yourself to me.”

He moaned, the sound muffled against my neck. It was desperate and helpless. My hand never slowed, dragging him closer to the edge, closer to breaking for me. I shoved my pants down, impatient and desperate.

God, fucking help me, I loved him like this. Drunk, ruined, pressed between me and the storm, too far gone to lie anymore.

“I love you.” I didn’t mean to say it. And I buried the stupid words with my dick, rubbing our tips together, letting him feel the cool touch of my metal piercing.

His body was fire under my hands despite the cold storm, every shudder burning through me. He clung to me like I was the only tether left in our world, his fists tangled in my hair, and his forehead pressed hard into the crook of my neck. The storm swallowed his groans, buried my moans, but I felt every one of them reverberate against my skin.

“Carrington—” His voice was cracked and strangled. My name had never sounded so much like a prayer wrapped in sin.

“That’s it,” I snarled against his ear, my hand working him faster, rougher, holding our dicks together, stroking them asone. “Give in to me. Don’t think, don’t fight. Just fucking break for me, my good boy. Let me hear you. I need to feel your come on my cock, Baby. Fuck. Give me it all, Shiloh.”

He bucked into my palm, as another ragged cry ripped from him. He was coming undone. We both were.

“Oh, fuck. Care Bear…don’t stop. I need you.”

He broke. Spilling hot come over my cock and hands, covering them with warmth even in the freezing rain. His whole body shook, dragging my orgasm to the head.

“Fuck! Oh fucking, God. Shiloh, only you, this is all for you, baby.”

Shiloh collapsed against me, breathless and ruined. Unsteady myself, I held him there, against my chest, trying to breathe. My dick was still rock hard and throbbed with a pain that bordered on violent. I needed to have him again.

I wanted to take him further, push him to his knees in the mud, and bury myself in him until he screamed my name into the storm. The need was savage, clawing through me, but I forced it back down. Not because I had mercy, but because when I tilted his head back, and I looked into his face, the truth slammed through me.

His eyes weren’t just glassy.

They were vacant.

He was gone, drunk to the damn marrow, so far under the whiskey haze he probably wouldn’t remember this come morning.

The taste of triumph in my mouth soured.

I brushed my thumb across his cheek, staring at him, knowing he was already slipping away from me.

“Fuck,” I muttered to him and to myself. “You’re going to pass the fuck out, aren’t you?”

He tried to speak, but it was a soft mumble against the storm.

Nothing coherent.

Just broken sounds.

“My Care Bear.”