The Girl and Her Ren (The Ribbon Duet #2)

Teeth and nail and sullied, snarling lust.

Lowering her to the ground, I didn’t care we had no tent or shelter. I didn’t care sticks and leaves would be part of what we were about to do.

I didn’t care.

I had no capacity to care.

The only thing that mattered was getting inside the one person I needed more than air.

Della went without a fight, letting me brush aside as many twigs as I could before pressing her onto her back and smothering her instantly with my weight.

She squirmed beneath me as I grabbed her jaw and kept her still so I could deepen the kiss to exquisitely harsh.

With my free hand, I shoved up her t-shirt and cupped her bra-free breast with eager fingers. Her back arched, revealing the perfection of bare skin. Her legs kicked out wide, welcoming; her hips raised off the ground, seeking.

My brain short-circuited.

A flicker of persecution needled me as my hand drifted down the delectable length of her belly, ripped at her belt, and tore at her zipper. Image after image of Della in similar undress. Of her changing after late night baling and getting covered in prickly dried grass. Of her sitting on a rock by the pond in her swimsuit, pretending to be as worldly as Cassie but failing for being so young.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Caution. Caution. Caution.

Even though I loved that little girl with all my heart, I no longer bowed to her.

I bowed to this new mistress instead.

I wasn’t clutching that child or kissing someone I shouldn’t be kissing. I wasn’t committing some heinous act, or stepping over lines that should never be crossed.

This was Della.

Girl and woman.

A girl with a ribbon in her hair, and now a woman with a tattoo on her foot.

I was kissing my goddamn soulmate, and who fucking cared how we’d met or how long we’d known each other? Fate had decided to throw us an unconventional beginning by giving her to me the moment she was born.

Her lips parted as I kissed her with renewed violence, ignoring sudden breathlessness and overwhelming heat.

Moaning, she slung her arms over my shoulders as I managed to unzip her jeans and yank at them without finesse. Frustration bubbled as the tight material refused to move. “Are you trying to kill me?”

She smiled beneath our kiss, her lips stretching tight with the same kind of delirium I suffered. “You mean…you need help stripping me?”

“Don’t taunt me, Della. Now is not a good time.”

“Why? Because you’re a little worked up?”

“Because I’ll die if I don’t get inside you.”

“Oh.” She blushed, pleased and sexy. “In that case…”

I glowered as she pushed me away and hooked her fingers in her jeans. With a coy, almost shy look, she shoved them down her legs, leaving baby blue bikini briefs.

I groaned.

“Do you have to be so fucking gorgeous?” I fell on her again, kissing, attacking, worshipping. Her heat promised me all kinds of sinful things as I ran my hand between her legs, just once, unable to stop myself from claiming.

She jolted as my fingers trailed over her inner thighs, wrenching her knees apart to give me more room to settle between them.

Keeping my weight on my elbows, I fisted her hair, morphing the kiss from deep to downright devouring. My body ached with a fever born from needing her so badly. With our mouths locked, I pressed my hips into hers, surging upward, searching for every part she’d give me.

My hand lassoed around her neck, squeezing for that perfect taste of submission.

The flash of surrender that I so desperately needed.

Her mouth popped wide as I held her tight.

Our eyes locked.

For a second, she stared as if she didn’t know me then, in a wash of pure acceptance and obedience, she corrupted me with bliss.

She licked her lips, arching herself deeper into my control.

“Fuck.” I fell on her again, holding nothing back, driving her into the dirt, squeezing her gorgeous throat, stealing everything I could.

I wanted to treat her as kindly as I’d always done, but she knew me now.

She knew enough to understand I wouldn’t be sweet.

Not in this.

I reached between us for my own belt. “Don’t move. I won’t last much longer if you move.”

But she disobeyed me, wriggling a little higher to slip her hands over mine and grab the buckled leather instead. “Me.”

That simple possessive word made me harder than I’d ever been. “Christ, Della.”

A thunderstorm percolated in my blood. Rumbling thunder and crackling lightning gathered like eager sinners in my lower belly, howling at her to do whatever she damn well wanted.

I couldn’t breathe as her shoulders bobbed, her hands busy below. The tug of her yanking the leather through the buckle, the slight give as it fell to the sides, the incineration of her fingers on my sensitive skin as she unhooked the button and eased my zipper down.

And when she touched me…when her fingers feathered over my hardness for the first time. When she bit her lip as if shocked and awed that I’d finally, finally permitted such things. When her touch turned from feather to forceful and she wrapped her fingers around me, I motherfucking broke.

My mind fractured, and I sucked in lungsful of tainted air.

And by breaking, memories I’d been ignoring drowned me.

Of Della teaching me to read.

Of Della smacking a kiss on my lips under the mistletoe that first Christmas at the Wilsons.

Of Della…

Della…

Della.

Fuck.

I panted as if I’d run to Mclary’s and back. My eyes saw double. My heart beat triple. But even though I bordered obsession filled with disgust for what I was doing, I couldn’t stop.

For a week, I hadn’t remembered.

Now, those memories were determined to play a part—to ensure we were prepared for the aftermath of pleasure. To prove we were ready to accept that we could never go back, only forward.

I accepted.

I wholeheartedly flung myself into the future and fisted both hands into her hair, smashing her lips to mine.

I stole her breath as my tongue dove deep, tasting her, condemning her.

She writhed, her legs scissoring tight around my waist, caught up in the whirlpool of erotic thirst and carnal hunger.

Our bodies strained with violence, already grinding, punishing, needy.

For years, I’d suspected Della was just as volatile as me when it came to sex, and now, I knew. She was just as unleashed. Both of us dangerous. Both highly unstable.

A fatal recipe.

Beasts driven to mate on the forest floor.

She nipped my lip, digging her nails into my scalp.

With a rumbling groan, I attacked her again, twisting in a vortex of young Ribbon and the present. My touch turned nasty, bruising her as I tried to take and take.

We kissed hungrily, savagely.

I wanted to hurt her for the power she had over me.

I wanted to punish her for making me this crazed.

Della slid a hand between our tight, overheated bodies and grabbed my cock, jerking me with vicious command.

I snapped and kissed her again, teeth and tongue and torment.

Deeper and deeper, over and over.

She cried out as twigs and debris scratched her while I devoured her. Thorns and sticks were nothing compared to the delicious pain her nails granted as she fought me back, bruise for bruise.

There was nothing gentle about any of this.

Both of us drunk on wildness and frenzy.

And when our battling wasn’t enough, I bit her bottom lip.

Hard.

Too hard.

She cried out, pulling back with a look of fiery desperation and a thread of wariness.

I’d told her I couldn’t control myself. But as fresh air filled my nose and common-sense returned, my heart became master over my traitorous body, dousing my lust with ice. “Ribbon…I-I’m sorry.”

She breathed as hard as me, quicksilver desire in her eyes. “I’m not.” Rearing up, she captured my mouth again, enslaving me to her for life.

Our mania reached a new level of velocity.

All the years between us, each precious in their own way, were now barriers we had to smash apart immediately.

I needed her instantly.

She needed me urgently.