Page 79 of Velvet Chains

I stood fast and caught her before she could slide down the cabinet, my arms curling around her like instinct. She was limp, panting, spent—and I kissed her. Hard. Desperate. Letting her taste herself on my tongue.

She melted into it, arms looping around my neck, mouth open and pliant. She was still catching her breath, her pulse fluttering against my lips.

“Bed,” I murmured against her skin.

She nodded, dazed.

I lifted her easily, one arm under her knees, the other across her back, and carried her up the stairs. The hallway was dark except for a string of Christmas lights twinkling along the banister—soft red and green shadows painting her skin. She’d probably just put them up. A little holiday cheer in the middle of all this chaos.

She looked unreal in the glow. Wrecked and radiant.

In her bedroom, I laid her down gently, like I was afraid she’d break. She reached for me, but I caught her wrists and kissed each one before pressing them to the mattress.

Then I stripped her bare—pulling off whatever clothes were left, slow and reverent. She didn’t stop me. Just watched with parted lips and wide eyes, her chest still rising and falling fast.

I shoved my boxers down and stepped out of them. She sat up slightly, propped on her elbows, gaze raking over me like she wasn’t sure if she was looking at a savior or a monster.

Like she didn’t know if she was about to touch heaven or hell.

I didn’t care which it was. I was already falling.

I crawled up the bed until I was hovering over her. Brushed my nose along her jaw. Kissed the corner of her mouth. Then trailed lower—chin, throat, breast.

“Do you want me to keep eating you out?” I whispered, voice gone to gravel.

I’ve been dreaming about this. About that gorgeous little pussy and the way you moan when I make you come.”

She narrowed her eyes at me, chest still rising fast, like she was trying to pretend she wasn’t trembling.

“You talk too much,” she said.

I grinned and kissed her knee, her thigh, the curve of her hip. “You love it when I talk. You love it when I worship you.”

She didn’t answer, but she didn’t stop me when I moved lower again, letting my mouth trace the inside of her thigh until she was gasping. Her fingers laced into my hair, pulling tight—not pushing me away this time.

I kissed her slowly. Thoroughly. Until she was shuddering again, until I felt her thighs clench around my head and she was whispering my name like she forgot how to hate me.

And then I rose.

Crawled up her body. Slid against her, slow and heavy and hot, until she arched up to meet me.

“Ask me to fuck you.”

“What?”

“Tell me what you want, Rubes. Tell me how much you want me inside of you.”

“You’re a sadist,” she whispered, but there was heat in her voice. Heat in her eyes. Heat everywhere, until I thought we might burn the whole goddamn house down.

“You’re the one putting up with it,” I said, and then kissed her hard, grinding against her harder. She was already wet for me,already lifting her hips to catch the rhythm, already so close to letting go.

She reached between us and took me in her hand, lining me up, guiding me in.

Fuck.

It was every bit as perfect as I remembered.

Perfect and impossible, and I was sure it was more than I deserved.