Dead Man Walking (The Fallen Men #6) - Giana Darling Page 0,147

But knowing I’m inside you like this, coming in this tight, sweet cunt makes my fuckin’ head spin. Makes me feel like a fuckin’ conqueror, like I was never someone’s victim.”

I cried out in passion and empathy, clutching his hair so tightly it unraveled from the leather hair tie and spilled across my chest as he bit my nipple and held me high to fuck me deeper.

“You’re the angel with the yellow hair that haunted me from the stained-glass,” he confessed before biting hard into my neck, grunting as I spasmed around his driving shaft.

“Yes,” I hissed as his cock hit that spot inside me that made me see spots. “I’ve always been yours, just waiting for you.”

“Don’t believe in fate,” he protested as he tongued my pulse point. “But fuck me, if I don’t believe in you.”

He crushed his mouth to mine, his love searing from my lips down my spine where it exploded into flames between my thighs. I climaxed so hard, my vision went dark, and Priest savagely ate the little breath I could muster from between my lips as he drove harder inside me, chasing his own orgasm.

Moments later, I felt the flood of heat at the entrance to my womb as his dick kicked inside me, triggering a second, smaller climax to roll through me.

Shattered, I hung limp in his arms, head lolling on his strong shoulder as he spent inside me then pinned me against the wall to regain his equilibrium. After a couple of minutes, he pulled away to check my face for trauma.

“How’re you doin’, Little Shadow?” he asked, husky and tired.

I loved knowing I’d made such a strong man grow soft, if only for a moment, if only with me.

“Better,” I confessed as he turned off the water and carried me to the sink where he sat me down to retrieve towels. I watched him walk on that powerful, sensual gait like a predatory animal to the closet where he pulled down two dark towels, completely unselfconscious even barring his myriad of scars to me. They glinted against his pale, freckled skin like artifacts half unearthed in the dust of some ancient ruins. I pledge then to excavate each and every one until those painful stories were unearthed from his memories and laid properly to rest.

When he returned to perfunctorily dry first me, then himself, I stopped him from lifting me up again with a hand to his chest and told him the truth of what he’d done for me. “If you can survive what you went through and end up the most beautiful man I’ve ever known, I know I can survive this. Thank you for giving me that conviction. I know it cost you a lot.”

Priest blinked at me, expression completely unreadable. Then he moved forward, grabbed my hand, and placed a swift kiss to the palm before turning around, buck naked, towel discarded on the wet tile to stroll into the bedroom.

“Sometimes, the cost is worth the reward,” he tossed casually over his shoulder without looking at me before he disappeared out the door.

I sat there for a long while, legs dangling over the porcelain sink, wondering if it was Priest’s close association to death that gave him this magical ability to turn the darkest days of my life somehow to gold.

Bea

I sat at the microphone breathing.

The podcast was officially on the air, the recording sign blinking unobtrusively over the door to the exit.

Eric was behind the soundproof glass window across from me, but I didn’t look at him. We hadn’t spoken beyond a few texts since Priest had interrogated him. I found I didn’t have the energy to give the problem my attention in the grand scheme of everything else. It meant something, though, that he’d shown up for the first podcast since we’d discovered Brenda’s head stuck under the desk.

Priest was there in the room with me, sitting on a chair he’d dragged up from Honey Bear Café. I didn’t bother telling him to be totally silent because I knew he wouldn’t make a sound. I also didn’t bother to tell him I didn’t need him there with me because that was a lie I couldn’t entertain for long, even in my own thoughts.

I felt raw, my skin scraped off with a scalpel, my heart scooped out of my ribs to beat its mangled murmur outside of my chest.

Loulou hadn’t wanted me to continue the podcast. The funeral for Amelia the day before had taken the