The Finished Masterpiece Boxed Set - Pepper Winters Page 0,109

against my consent, he was wrong. Sex with Gil would always be something I wanted. Sex with Gil gave me a power over him because he dropped barriers he couldn’t control.

Spreading my legs before he could kick them apart, I deliberately arched my back and moaned. I told him in every explicit way that I was equal in this. He couldn’t steal something that was already his.

His frustrated groan sent goosebumps along my flesh.

Thanks to my rebellious willingness, I prevented him from taking on anymore sin.

“Goddamn you, Olin Moss. Goddamn you for all of it.”

I didn’t speak as he hoisted my skirt up over my hips and yanked my underwear down.

The floor thudded beneath my feet as he slammed to his knees.

I bit my lip as his teeth tracked a path up my inner thigh, his mouth hot and wet against my skin. I cried out as his tongue found my centre, pushing inside me with no teasing or hesitation. He consumed me, and my legs buckled at the dark pleasure he granted.

His fingers latched around my thighs, keeping me pinned against the table as he sucked me from behind. Breath was no longer fundamental to my existence.

Only Gil was.

He was my air and lifeline. I’d never suffered such a blistering connection with anyone else. Never been so linked to another or so forgiving. Perhaps we were star-crossed—linked and bound by forces outside our control.

Fate.

I sank my teeth into the table as Gil inserted two fingers into me, all while sucking on my clit.

Holy mother of...

An orgasm that hadn’t existed three seconds ago shot into being. The bliss spiralled around his finger as he thrust inside me and suckled.

A guttural grunt fell from him as he tongued me hard. His touch was too intense. Too treacherous. Gil had always had the ability to strip me bare and leave me with nothing.

“O...” Gil nuzzled between my legs, eating me, inhaling me, dominating me.

The air crackled and wept around us, full of regret and remorse.

Regret for what?

Remorse for who?

He drove such thoughts from my mind with another body-clenching lick. My heart pounded with lust. My blood sang and shot through my veins, laced with something scarier and much more profound than just desire.

I wanted to come. Desperately. But I was also terrified because I knew the moment my body plummeted, my heart would too.

And I can’t survive it.

Almost as if Gil heard my plea, he soared from his knees. Looming behind me, the clink of his belt buckle and the hiss of his zipper were my only warnings as his hot, hard cock speared between my legs and straight into me.

He ducked to fill me deeper. His erection bruised me, hurt me, ploughing me from my feet and onto the table.

I was totally at his mercy.

My fingernails clawed at the wood, searching for grip as he pulled back and slammed into me again and again.

Gil was complex. He had secrets and tempers and love that didn’t make sense, but beneath all that complexity was utter simplicity.

He needed me as much as I needed him.

He always had.

And that broke me into a million pieces because he’d torn us apart to survive without each other and look at what we’d become.

Rutting, fucking animals intent on destroying each other because we couldn’t cope with the alternative.

The sweet happily-ever-after alternative.

His thrusts vibrated with violence. His brutal, unforgiving hands squeezed and spread my ass cheeks. And through it all, my core wettened and welcomed, letting him treat me as callously as he wanted.

Because God it felt good.

Unbelievably good.

“Gil...” The table squeaked and screeched as he pounded into me, driving me with each thrust toward the kitchen. The wood groaned as if the fixings would come apart and send me straight to the floor.

But Gil didn’t stop.

And I didn’t ask him to.

He fucked me.

His hard cock plunged again and again, and each time he filled me, I arched up to encourage him to take more.

He grunted with pleasure and pain, matching the bruises he graced me with. His hands left my ass, clawing their way up my spine to rip at my blouse and tug it over my shoulder.

His hips pistoned harder while he feasted on my tattoo.

I didn’t know what animal he looked at or why he studied something of innocence when debasing me in the worst possible way, but his voice tangled with emotion as he growled with each thrust.

“Otter.”

Thrust.

“Ocelot.”

Thrust.

“Orangutan, oregano, ostrich.” Thrust, thrust, thrust.

“Owl.”

I waited for more. I waited for Olive.

But his forehead crashed against