Page 37 of The Bonds We Break

“Tell me again that you consent, Rae,” I mutter against her lips.

“I consent,” she says, her reply breathy.

It’s all the approval I need.

I don’t know why falling into this woman feels so fucking good, or why she featured so heavily in my dreams last night.

I lift her into my arms, and she wraps her legs around me, rubbing herself against my cock.

This time, I’m determined to make her come.

I sit on the sofa in front of the fire before running my nose along her neck. Her hair is up, out of the way, and I gently bite her. She rolls her hips against me, and my cock is acting like I’m a teenager who’s never gotten near a pussy before. It aches, probably seeping enough precum through the cotton of my boxer briefs to reach my denim, but I don’t give a fuck.

After the grit and grime and constant demands of the clubhouse yesterday, and the wild party the day before with women willing to do whatever the fuck I wanted, there is a respite in being here with Rae, even if I don’t want to admit it.

It’s like she’s a little bit of peace in the chaos.

While I pretended it’s because I was too drunk, she’s probably the reason I didn’t hook up with anyone.

Shockingly, I feel safer here than I did in the clubhouse.

I close my eyes as I kiss her and pretend none of the other bullshit exists. I focus on the way Rae feels in my arms.

Our tongues duel. She bites my lower lip. I want to consume her.

For a second, I try to pretend it’s not Rae, but that doesn’t work. Because even with my eyes closed, I’m acutely aware it is.

“Fucking love when you roll your hips.” I grunt, squeezing her thighs. I feel the gasp of air that escapes her lips at my words. If I come like this, it will still feel better than coming in one of the club girls. Not because there is anything wrong with them, but because there’s something inherently alluring about this one.

Perhaps it’s because she isn’t really mine. Not that the club girls are either, really, but one nod from me and any one of them would be. Perhaps it’s because Rae brings the heady thrum of something powerful. Not dominance. Not force. Just a buzz of something more.

Her hair is thick as I wrap it around my fist, pulling it tight until she groans, not in pain but a sound close to ecstasy. I wonder for a moment if she even understands how much this kind of pain affects her.

She’s a puzzle I don’t understand.

A puzzle I shouldn’t want to solve.

And yet ...

“King,” she mutters as her hands hit the hem of my Henley. Usually, I like to take control, but I’m curious.

How far will Rae go before she realizes she’s the one taking the lead?

She tugs, and I sit forward so she can lift my shirt over my head. As I lean back against the sofa, I rub my thumb over her lower lip. “Perfect fucking pout, duchess.” I slip my thumb into her mouth, over her teeth, and pull her to me slowly. “Kiss me.”

She does as I ask, her body relaxing against mine.

“Show me that killer body of yours, Rae.” When she pulls away from me, I swear there’s a blush to her cheeks and uncertainty in her eyes.

Compliments turn her on as much as they confuse her.

As much as I want to teach Saint a lesson, in this moment, I want to teach Rae Miller a much more intimate one.

Can’t fucking explain it.

Really don’t get why the walls fall between us as soon as we touch each other like this.

She strips off her hoodie and T-shirt, then removes her bra.