For you. Only for you.
Her fingers curled against the wall as he continued to fuck into her with his hand. Pleasure zinged along her nerve endings. He was stroking that perfect place deep inside, driving her harder toward the crest. His thumb flicked her clit again and again. His hips pressed against her ass, his cock rubbing right between her cheeks. It was wrong…so wrong…to be enjoying this, but she couldn’t help it. Because with him, she enjoyed everything—hard, rough, soft, sweet—it didn’t matter how. It didn’t matter when. It just mattered that it was with him.
She dropped her head back against his shoulder, couldn’t hold it up, couldn’t do anything but let him take her wherever he wanted to go. “Nick… Oh gods. Nick…”
He bit down hard on her earlobe, and the mixture of pleasure and pain shoved her over the edge. Her entire body was swept up in a whirlwind of light and ecstasy so intense, it stole her breath, shook her body, and dragged her straight into a tunnel of utter blackness.
When she came to, her face was pressed against the building, her chest rising and falling with her shallow breaths. Her mind was foggy, her body limp. But she recognized Nick still pressed up against her back, his forehead resting against her temple, his hot breath rushing down her neck. Yet more than anything, she knew his voice. His voice—not that angry, ugly thing that had been growling in her ear only moments before. This was his soft, familiar voice whispering her name over and over as she clawed herself back from a climax so strong she’d blacked out.
She was wrecked, dazed, wanted only to rest. But she didn’t know how long his lucidity would last, and more than anything, she needed to drag him back to her for good.
Pushing away from the wall, she turned so she was facing him, then lifted her fingers to his scruffy jaw. Her skirt fell to her feet. Her jacket was torn at the shoulder, but she didn’t care. She focused only on him. On his hands braced on either side of her, on his forehead resting on her shoulder. His body trembled as if he were dazed too, but strength simmered beneath his rigid muscles, just waiting to be unleashed. And she feared this was only the eye of the storm. That if she didn’t do something fast, she’d lose him for good.
“Nick.” She lifted his face away from her shoulder, pressed her mouth against the scar on his cheek, trailed her lips to his temple, then his nose, then the corner of his mouth. “Stay with me. I’ve got you. I’m not letting go. No matter what happens. Focus only on me.”
She kissed his other cheek, his jaw, worked her way back to his mouth.
He stiffened against her. “Shit. Cynna.”
“Yes.” Gently, she kissed his lips. “Say my name. As many times as it takes. I’m not letting them have you.” She tipped her head the other direction, kissed him again. “I won’t let you fall. I won’t ever let you fall.”
A growl built low in his throat, and every muscle in his body tensed. And as he opened his mouth over hers, pushing his tongue forcefully between her lips and shoving her back into the wall again, she steeled herself for another wave of anger, of malevolence, of dark, viscous energy.
“Don’t go too far. I may need you…”
He did need her. Not because she was special, not because she was his soul mate. But because they were alike. They understood each other. They’d both danced with the devil, and she was determined to make sure they both survived.
She opened to his bruising kiss, dragged her tongue against his even though she knew he was trying to hurt her again, and kissed him back. Trailing her fingers up into his hair, she tugged hard on the soft strands between her fingertips and met his kiss with the same ferocity, the same energy, the same strength he was showering on her. And the moment she did, something inside him shifted.
She felt it pop, like a balloon exploding. Felt it ripple all through his limbs. His muscles instantly relaxed. His kiss gentled. Against her belly he was still hard and aroused, but the anger that had been driving him—the savagery—it dissipated like water evaporating into air. And was replaced by a wave of heat and hunger and need she felt all the way to her toes.
“Cynna…” His hand slipped around her nape; his fingertips softly rubbed her skin as he kissed her, again and again. His voice grew weak, strained, but was filled with a panicked urgency, as if he were afraid he was going to lose her. “Cynna…”