How Sinners Fight - Eva Ashwood Page 0,21

than he can handle.

I know how he fucking feels. The first time we ever hooked up, he told me he wanted to fuck me so hard it would ruin us both—and he obviously hasn’t given up on that goal.

My arms go around his neck, my fingers sliding through his hair again and latching on to fistfuls of his thick strands as he fucks me hard and deep. The fridge felt like a stable enough surface before, but now the whole thing rocks a little with every thrust. I can hear bottles and other containers rattling around inside, punctuating our breathy grunts and moans.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Gray curses under his breath, pausing his strokes to grind hard against my pelvis, making my clit throb. “God, you make me fucking insane.”

With his arms wrapped around me, he pulls me away from the fridge. I’m barely aware of where we’re going this time either, but when he sets me on my feet and pulls out, I realize we’re back at the kitchen island. A split second after I realize that, Gray’s hands are on my hips, spinning me around. He presses a palm between my shoulder blades, bending me over the marble countertop with my ass toward him.

My nipples harden as my breasts press against the cool stone, and Gray wraps a hand around my hair, gathering it in a tight grip near the base of my skull. He tugs hard enough to make my back arch, and as it does, he thrusts into me again, his hips slapping against my ass.

I flail for something to hold on to as he fucks me from behind, but the smooth surface of the island doesn’t give me much. It doesn’t really matter though, because Gray isn’t letting me go anywhere. One hand holds my hips while the other grips my hair, and he pounds into me like he’s trying to prove a point.

The island doesn’t move like the fridge did, and that only lets Gray go even harder. The sound of our bodies slamming together over and over fills the large kitchen, until all I can hear are the debauched noises of our fucking.

The hand in my hair unclenches, and as my body jerks roughly from the force of his thrusts, I feel Gray’s fingertips ghost over the tattoo of the bird on my back. His gentle touch is such a contrast to the way he’s fucking me that it makes goose bumps erupt on my skin. He traces every line of ink before trailing his hand down my spine.

Then he slaps my ass.

Hard.

I let out a loud cry, my pussy clamping down hard around him as the sting of pain floods my body, followed by pure heat.

“Tell me you want me, Sparrow,” Gray grates out. “Tell me you want my cock. Tell me how fucking much you like this.”

There’s something almost desperate in his command, and although I could tell him all of that and more, I keep the words trapped behind my lips. Instead, I crane my neck a little to look over my shoulder at him, loving the way his hair is disheveled and his features tight with effort.

“Tell me how much you like it,” I shoot back. I want to hear his dirty words. I’m addicted to the naked truth in his voice when he fucks me like this, the way everything he says seems torn from the deepest part of his soul.

Gray’s gaze catches mine, and something shifts in his expression. He slaps my ass again, then kneads away the sting, groping me hungrily.

Then he wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me upright, pinning my back to his chest as he bends his knees a little. I’m almost sitting on his lap, and I don’t even know how the fuck he has the thigh strength to do this right now. My legs still feel like they could give out at any moment.

One arm keeps me secured tightly to him, holding me up as he drives into me, and his other hand slips down between my legs to circle my clit. His breath tickles my ear as he nuzzles my hair.

“You’re such a fucking fighter,” he murmurs. “But you can’t fight this. Come for me.”

His fingers work my clit harder, the pressure so intense that it crosses the line into pain, but it gets him what he wants. My toes curl against the floor as my body shudders, an orgasm tearing through me like a hurricane.

Gray doesn’t stop fucking