gasp from me, my teeth clipping together. Then another. Another. Again, this time as he snatches me to him, thrusting deeper…
All I can do is dig my nails into his back and hold on. The sound he makes when I moan is so damn wild. Dangerous. Unrestrained, he pushes into me without hesitation this time. Hard. Harder. Beneath me, the table jolts with every thrust, sending an array of tools crashing to the floor.
It’s the prelude to the volatile soundtrack we make together. I hear myself moan again amid the creak of the table and his own smothered curses. It’s a tune as disjointed and complex as the music from his club. When his voice goes hoarse, he just settles for biting his lower lip, drawing another bead of blood alongside the gash I made.
Thrust after thrust, he picks up speed, using my own weight to enhance the contact. Every dose of friction carries some twisted emotion he’s driving into me. I can name them all—rage, hate, lust. Like layers of ink, they transform my body into a creation of his own making. Something wild. Untamed. Free. Breathless.
All I can do is let him remake me, riding each wave until I break. It happens so fast, so violently. I claw at his shoulders, and our lips meet again, teeth gnashing until every sound I make is swallowed whole.
He finally pulls away, hissing as my body tightens, resisting his loss. I think it’s over, but then he lifts me from the table and shoves me down. I hit the floor, face down, and while I blink in confusion, he hooks one arm around my waist and yanks me up onto my hands and knees. He enters me again before I even get my bearings.
I can’t silence a cry—a whimper.
But he doesn’t stop, and God…I never want him to.
Mindless, he rocks into me, crushing me with his weight while simultaneously inching our bodies across the ivory tile. More. More. More. With every thrust, we leave streaks of black ink everywhere. Ebony handprints. We’re darkness, marring the light, and I let him swallow me up whole until nothing’s left.
Just fire.
Chapter Thirteen
“Shit.”
I roll over to face a pair of black eyes that reluctantly meet my own.
“Shit,” he says again, but there doesn’t seem to be any regret in his tone. Just shock. Maybe some confusion. Along with a dash of anger as his gaze cuts to mine, blazing with intensity. “I didn’t use a condom—”
“I’m on birth control,” I admit with a sigh. Thank God for the abnormally heavy menstrual cycles, which led my mother to suggest I take them all through my teen years, rather than out of any fears of unprotected sex.
Wincing, I brace one hand against the floor and push myself upright. The weight of everything we’ve done threatens to descend, but I’m too tired. Too tired to worry about the other implications of unsafe sex, such as a potential STD or…
I can’t worry about any of it.
“You’re a virgin,” he rasps, sitting with his back to me. His tattoo looks different, and it takes me a second to understand why. Smears of ink streak his skin—which make the dragon seem more like a shapeless splotch of darkness with glowing red eyes than anything cohesive.
“Your boyfriend?” he asks next, his tone hard. “You haven’t been fucking him?”
My lips part. Now could be the time to come clean and admit the truth. But as the breath escapes my lips, he scoffs, drowning out any confession I may voice.
“You were saving yourself, is that it?” he wonders, coming up with his own assumptions. “I’ve met girls like you before. You want to lose your cherry to some one-night stand you’ll never meet again. Get it over with for when you meet that cop or doctor you want to marry.” He chokes out a sound between a groan and a laugh before falling silent. For the longest time, he doesn’t move. Then… “Did you tell him about me?”
This time, I can’t maintain a lie. I shake my head. “No.”
He stands in one swift motion, still unabashedly naked. His hand catches my wrist, pulling me upright as well. “Come on,” he grunts.
Cool air tickles my skin as I let him lead me through a narrow hallway at the back of the shop, then up a flight of stairs. To another roof? No. The door at the top of this staircase opens into a completely different space. An apartment? Before we cross the threshold, he flicks