Pawn (The Pawn Duet #2) - T.M. Frazier Page 0,53

from his waist and sets me on the floor. He kneels to give my clit another slow, languid kiss that renders me unable to stand or see or even breathe.

“Fuck, Mic,” he groans. He doesn’t waste a minute, scooping me back up and setting me on top of the small dresser. My legs take the place they had before around his body. “Do you want me?” he asks, holding my gaze. It’s a different way of phrasing what he’s asked me before, but the way he asks doesn’t hold the same meaning. There’s something more within the question. A fragility I didn’t expect. It’s almost as if he’s asking me if he’s okay. If he’s good enough.

I cup his face in my hands and stare deep into his green eyes. “Pike?”

“Yeah?” he asks, breathing hard, barely holding it together.

“Fuck me. Now.”

With a groan and gritted teeth, he pushes inside me with enough force that I’m surprised we don’t break the dresser or the wall. I’m not even part of the world anymore. The hateful, disappointing, disheartening, broken world. I’m part of Pike. We are one.

I’m being stretched impossibly open as he fills me with every inch of himself. He feels slick and hot as I pulse around his cock.

He pulls back and thrusts in harder, possessively, telling me more than any conversation anyone could have, it doesn’t take me long to lose myself, both in mind and in body. “I want to feel you come around my cock. I want to feel you. All of you. Give it to me, Mic. Give me you.”

I hold on for dear life while I’m consumed with the orgasm that wraps around me like I’m being strangled. I can’t breathe, and just when I think I’m going to pass out, I’m hit with an explosion of pleasure that crashes into me over and over again. Pure bliss that spreads through my entire body before finally weaving its way around my heart. It’s not just a mind-blowing orgasm that makes me forget time, space, science, hatred, loss. It’s the kind that feeds your soul and heals your body.

It’s love.

Pikes face is tight with tension. His neck chorded. His ab muscles constrict. “Mic! Oh, fuck, Mic!” Pike comes with a loud groan. I feel his cock pulsing his release within me, and I gasp at the bolt of pleasure that sizzles through my body at the feeling.

I’m in awe of Pike, of his raw power and determination. Of the way he fucks me like he’s a part of my body.

He drops his forehead to mine. “Did you understand what I was trying to tell you this time?”

I nod against him, catching my breath. “I heard every damn word.”

“It’s me and you. Always. Don’t ever forget it. Don’t ever doubt it.”

“I thought you said you weren’t good with words?” I chuckle.

His eyes are dark and serious. “I’m not.”

“So, you’re a liar, then?” I tease.

He shakes his head slowly from side to side. “No, Mic. I’ve just been denying the truth.” Pike pushes the damp hair from my eyes. He presses a kiss to my sweaty forehead. “Until you opened my eyes.”

PIKE

“Why do you wear these?” Mickey asks, turning around one of the broken cuffs I wear on each wrist. “You never told me.”

“It’s a reminder of where I’ve been. Where I never want to go back,” I explain.

“Are these real cuffs?”

“These are the first handcuffs that were ever wrapped around my wrists when I was arrested for the first time. I think I was fifteen or sixteen at the time,” I reply.

Mickey continues to mindlessly spin them around, her naked body pressed up against mine. Her softness against my hardness. It’s the first time I’ve felt any sort of peace in years.

I prop myself up on my elbow, facing her on the bed. “You know, I’ve been having these crazy dreams since the night you left. Every night, I dream of the town, of Logan’s Beach, but what it would have looked like before there were houses or people here. Barren, like it would be in a drought. Not a drop of green. Not a blade of grass. Just dust and dirt and dead trees as far as the eye can see, and then, I wake up, and I wonder what the fuck I’m eating before bed that’s making me dreaming about fucking trees and dirt.”

Mickey mirrors my position, facing me. “When I was working on my doctorate, I wrote a paper on dream analysis. It’s not