Page 13 of Unmasked Anarchy

“Mine,” he growls, running his hand up my spine.“All of you.”

He keeps sliding his hand, shoving my shirt higher, then finally pulls me flush against him, crushing his lips against mine.I gasp, he tastes of smoke and whiskey, and I can’t help the way my body responds.

Gage rarely kisses me, but when he does, the world fucking stops.

He rips the shirt over my head, not caring when the wound tugs and I yelp.The pain is white-hot, but it clears my head enough to see the way his pupils spread, hungry, wild.

“God,” I breathe, rocking my hips.The pressure is building, building, and he doesn’t tease, doesn’t slow.He presses one hand between my legs, already soaked, and he grins, the first real smile I’ve seen in months.

“Wet, as I predicted.”

He’s already got two fingers inside me, knuckles deep, thumb pressing against my clit as I rock pathetically against him.

I shake, unable to speak.He pulls his fingers out, slow, glistening, and brings them to my lips.“Tell me how much you want me.”

“Please,” I whisper.“I want you.You know I do.”

He rewards me by lifting me in one easy motion and shoving his jeans down just enough.His cock bounces free, long, thick, hard, and fucking delicious.He lines up, and then slowly lowers me down, inch by agonizing inch.The pain shooting through my body from my wounds is nearly enough to cause a blackout, but the pleasure is far more intense.

He strokes up my back, holding me so I can’t wiggle away.He fucks me slow, deep, using his own strength and hips to drive the movement, knowing I don’t have it in me to do myself.

“Mine,” he grows, his breath tickling my ear.

Every thrust is a warning and a promise.If I ever run, he’ll hunt me.If I ever lie, he’ll know.I shatter around him, moaning his name as an orgasm rips through my body.The pleasure mixing with the white-hot pain.

Gage keeps rocking me, his body tense, his muscles bulging as he finally finds his own release, shuddering with a low, feral hiss.Then, his forehead falls against mine, our breaths rising hot and heavy, until he finally meets my gaze.

“Don’t fuckin’ talk to him again,” he says, not asking, just stating what will be.

I shut my eyes, let myself breathe him in one last time before the darkness takes me.

I should tell him I will.

I should promise.

But I just can’t.

I can’t.