get enough.
We’re all over each other, tugging at clothes, shifting and moving. There is no slow burn, not this night, not this time. There is just this sense of standing on the edge of a world that is no longer round, and we are falling, crashing, into each other. When we’re naked, and she’s straddling me, she’s not shy about touching me. I hold her up, anchor her, and she’s holding my cock, pressing it inside all that warm perfect heat of her sex.
She slides down me, pressing against me, settling low, taking all of me and it’s fucking perfection. She’s perfection: her ivory skin, her high breasts, her nipples puckered and pink.
Her gaze lands on my devil tattoo and I go still, waiting for her realization of just how deep I was inside the Devils, how a part of them I was, and always will be. Her hand covers the ink and her gaze lifts to mine. “You will always be a devil.”
And there it is. Her realization. “I’ve been telling you that.”
“You’re too busy denying that part of yourself to survive it.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means embrace and use it.”
I catch her hair with my fingers again, and this time I’m not gentle. She just won’t listen. She won’t stop pushing me to a place she thinks she needs to go but doesn’t. She really fucking doesn’t. “You don’t know what you’re suggesting.”
“Show me,” she says. “Let that part of you fuck me right here, right now.”
My rejection is instant. “You will never know that part of me.”
“Then I’ll never know you.”
“I don’t want to hurt you, Pri, and I will. I will never be the man who deserves you. You need to know that.”
“What if you already are?”
“I was him, before Waters, but I’m not the same man I was then. I won’t be him again.”
“I don’t know that man. I know this one. I want to know more, the good, the bad, and the dirty. I can handle it.”
Until she can’t, I think, but I want her to, so fucking much. My fingers relax in her hair, my hand cupping her head. And I feel her in ways I have never felt another woman and she’s burning me alive.
I know I should stop this, stop us, let her go, but right now, it feels like losing her would be cutting off a part of my own body which is crazy—I’ve only just met her. I thought I was fine with dying on those missions for Walker. Now I want to live. And part of me wants to punish her for making us both want what we can’t have. This will end. We will end.
My mouth slants over hers, and I’m kissing her, drinking her in and I don’t hold back and neither does she. Our tongues connect, stroke, battle. I can taste her demand. She wants what I won’t give. She wants me to fuck her like the devil I am. And I could. I could so easily demand everything and expect her to give it to me. I could take her in ways she’s never been taken. And then she’d prove me right. She’d prove she can’t handle that part of me.
I tug her shirt over her head and shove her bra down, my fingers teasing her nipple. Her teeth scrape her bottom lip and when I cover her breast with my hand, she covers my hand. Almost as if she’s holding onto control. I lean in and kiss her, and she pants into my mouth, and I revel in the fact that her control is already gone. I nip her bottom lip, lapping at the offended skin, my fingers still tangled into her hair again.
I kiss her hard and fast, and mold every soft curve she owns against me, one hand scooping her perfect little ass. My lips linger just above hers, and there is no denying the deep ache Pri stirs in me, unfamiliar and somehow intrusive, and yet still additive. Too addictive for me to let her go.
She leans into me, her body submissive, a plea for me to go further, to show her everything there is to show. She wants to be pushed, to escape with me, but I hold back. I’m too close to the edge, too close to a part of me that may not be gentle. Tonight, our sins will stay our own. They will not be mine.
Angry at her for trusting so easily, angry at myself for