I wanted to wind around him like a thorny vine. To make my mark in the bramble of his protective walls. I wanted him to feel as powerless as I was right now.
He controlled every touch.
Why?
But the swamping intensity of him filling me so completely chased me into another wall of bliss. I arched below him, my breasts digging into the cotton of his shirt, my legs winding around denim.
I wanted skin.
But he didn’t allow that.
Wouldn’t give me that part of him.
But he did thrust inside of me over and over with his deliciously perfect cock.
Again and again.
Smooth and perfect and powerful. My thighs burned and my back ached, but I took every thrust and begged for more.
Suddenly, he released me. Before I could grip his shoulders, or touch anything on him, he flipped me over, caging me again and drove into me. The pace was brutal, and his touch was anything but gentle.
But I already craved that end.
Craved the speed and accuracy of his divine cock inside of me. He buried his face in my neck, my name a growl and a promise as he fucked me within an inch of madness.
Not a single moment of gentle or care.
And I gloried in every thrust. I pushed back on him and demanded more with my body. Even as he controlled the pace, I let him know with the only thing I had available to me.
My moans.
My pussy.
My welcoming and accepting body.
It felt like a war between us. He covered me from neck to ankle, trapping me under him as if I was going to run away.
Finally, I got one hand free, and I reached behind me to grip the back of his neck. “Nolan,” I gasped, his name little more than a sob. He jerked inside of me, his whole body going rigid.
I clamped down on him as I trembled beneath him. As the last gasp of my completely sated body tightened as if to hold onto the only part of him he’d shared with me.
His arms finally gentled as he rolled us onto our sides but remained banded around me as if he couldn’t let me go.
As if the war was still raging inside of him.
I tangled my fingers into his sweaty hair. Gently, he kissed my shoulder before he rolled away and off my bed.
He paused at the threshold of the doorway, his back to me.
I wanted to say something, but what?
Then he staggered out into the hallway, and I heard my bathroom door slam.
I pressed my hot cheek into the coolness of my bamboo sheets.
I wasn’t sure exactly what that had been, but it hadn’t been merely sex.
It had been a freaking battle, and I was the one wearing the scars this time.
Ones I wasn’t sure I ever wanted to get rid of.
FOURTEEN
I stared at my face in the stark light of Dahlia’s bathroom. A scarred shell of a man who didn’t belong in her tidy green oasis. Hell, it even smelled fresh and welcoming.
And I wanted to break everything in the room.
She was the first woman I’d been with since my accident.
Nearly two years of doctors and skin grafts and punishing workouts to bring my body back from the brink, and now I was more a mess than ever. I’d accepted that this was the new normal for me, but that flew out the window the moment she’d touched me.
I wasn’t sure what had come over me. It had been a near compulsion to hold her and break her at the same time. To make her come so hard and so many times she couldn’t escape.
Wouldn’t want to escape me.
What the fuck is wrong with you?
