Page 62 of Toxic
Behind me, I hear the sound of him shucking his clothes: the clink of his belt buckle coming undone, the crash of it against the floor, the click of his zipper, the whisper of his pants hitting the floor. By the time I feel his warmth at my back again, I’mshaking.
I start to lower my hands, which earns me a nip to my shoulder in retaliation. “I thought I said to keep themthere.”
“Please,” I whisper. “I want totouchyou.”
“You will. Patience, little mouse.” He kisses the spot he bit and soothes it with histongue.
I do as he asks, but only because he keeps touching me without interruption. My head falls back, and I moan to the ceiling as his hands palm my breasts, kneading through the thin material of myshirt.
“Take it off,” I beg, and he does, slipping the shirt over my head and tossing it away. “Allofit.”
This time, he teases instead of listening, and it makes me shift from foot to foot and throw my hair back. His palms cup my breasts over my bra and then he’s drawing circles along the cotton. There’s enough padding that I can’t feel him, but I know his touch is just one layer away, and it drives mecrazy.
When I’m mindlessly writhing against him, he tugs the cups down to bare me to his touch. Skilled fingers pay homage to my nipples, pulling deeper moans from me. He tweaks them, just enough to cause me twin edges of pain and pleasure, and then he releases the clasp and his hands travel down to the waistband of myjeans.
My breath stalls in my chest as his fingers dance alongtheedge.
“Please,” I whisper and this time he gives me what I want by unbuttoning my pants and divingunderneath.
He uses one hand to turn my head so he can meet my lips and the other to find the wetness with the slightest brush of hisfingers.
“So ready,” he says. “I think you like the idea of staying here with me. Has my little mouse turned intoacat?”
I mumble unintelligible words against his lips and feel him smile. My heart flips over in my chest, and I know there will be no surviving him. There is no recovery for what he does to me. No walking away. Even if it was an option, I don’t think Icould.
His tongue invades, plunders, conquers, and I meet him stroke for stroke, eliciting a groan from deep in his throat. The hand at my throat tightens, reminding me unerringly of the first time he had me against a wall. The memory comes to life and causes me to shift against him, hips searching for an easement of the hurricane whipping aroundinsideme.
He only presses closer, so I’m pinned between his body and the door. I tremble with the need for release, the ache to touch him and express all the things I can’t withwords.
“Shh, I’ve got you,” he says as his fingers start to moveagainstme.
All I can do is take it. He keeps up the sweet torture until the door vibrates with the result of the tension growing inside me. Just when I think he’s going to push me over the edge, he pulls back and allows my arms to drop to mysides.
I turn, and he takes me in his arms and guides me to the bed. Greedily, I take him into my arms and accept his weight on top of me. My legs wrap around his waist and pull himclose.
“Wait,” he says, a smile in his voice. “Not so fast, littleheathen.”
“I can’t wait,” I tell him and undulate againsthim. “Now.”
He tugs down my jeans with the little space I allow him to have, and then he’s back against me. “I’m going to take my time,”hesays.
Andhedoes.
It feels like some sort of penance for everything he’d ever done wrong toward me. The manipulations when he was in prison, locking me up, being responsible for my pain. He worships me with the softest touches, the most maddening caresses until I’m near tears with the power of my need. He never made any apologies for what he’s done, and I realize he doesn’t have to any more than I have to thank him forsavingme.
Tears leak from the corners of my eyes and he laps them up just as he thrusts inside me. My breath catches in my throat as his piercing hits all the sensitive spots inside me and strokes themtolife.
His thrusts are slow, measured, and when I open my eyes, I find himwatchingme.
“Stay with me,” he says right before his mouth finds mine in a soft kiss. “Tell me you’ll stay with me. I can’tloseyou.”
I lift my hands to his hair and peer into his eyes. “You couldn’t get rid of me if youtried.”
My words do something to him and his thrusts quicken. His hold convulses around me and I realize maybe he needs me to soothe the broken parts of him as much as I need him to show me there’s someone who needs me inreturn.
As I come around him, surrounded by his arms and anchored by his weight, I know there isn’t a chance in hell I’m giving up another minute without him by my side. If he’s an addiction, I welcome the rush. Give me another hit, and another, and another, until it kills me or gives me a taste ofheaven.
I lose myself in his kiss, his touch, histoxiclove.