Jesus, but he was intense.
“Because of what I want. What I need. 7 has resources I won’t have access to anywhere else. With 7, I have a real chance of curing brain disease. Of making a difference so mothers don’t leave little girls to cry alone in waiting rooms in the arms of strangers.”
“Goddamn it.” The epithet was torn from him, as it seemed was his next action.
His mouth crashed into hers.
That faint crackle buzzing between them exploded, and there was nothing left in the world but him. The scent of him, like the storm, the brand of his hands, and the slant of his mouth over hers.
Everything was ash and it didn’t matter one third of a damn because of this moment.
He pulled back, breaking the kiss slowly. Elizabeth didn’t want him to stop, didn’t want him to let go—only more of this.
“Is this really want you want? To be fucked against the wall by a monster while the world burns?”
She paused. Were there people who didn’t want this? “Hell yes.” Elizabeth bit her lip. “I mean, if that’s what you want. I released you, Adam. You don’t have to be here with me. Not like this. Not even at all.”
“I want to be here, more than I thought possible.”
“Can I touch you?” she dared, her fingers going to the strangely banal t-shirt. What did monsters wear, after all?
His eyes fluttered closed as she peeled the shirt off of him. She didn’t know why he was always portrayed with green skin—perhaps it was something to do with death. He wasn’t green at all, he was golden. Perhaps it was from all the hours he now got to spend in the sun on his boat. Perhaps because he didn’t have to hide in sallow darkness.
And he shouldn’t, he had a body that was like art—no, it really was art. It had taken an artist to put together a man so beautiful. To stitch him from the bits of others and integrate them so perfectly—created a whole new being.
She traced over the scars at his neck, her fingers fluttering like butterfly wings against the marred flesh. Then down to the scar on his shoulder where his left arm had been attached to his torso.
“That’s the arm of a killer.” He embraced her again. “A priest,” he shifted to indicate his right arm, “and a condemned murderer. My maker believed in duality.”
“It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful,” she murmured and continued her exploration. His chest was a mass of scars, but two determinate marks over his heart. “And this, what happened here?”
“It’s where he gave me another heart.”
“Why?”
“I’ll never know.” His massive hands circled her wrist, but he didn’t try to stop her. He simply held her and waited patiently.
With her other hand, she dared down to his waist where he bore another scar, the circled all the way around him. Then another at his hip. She pushed her hand down past the waist on his black fatigues and gripped his cock.
A low groan was drawn from him. “It’s been so long.”
“For me, too.” She pressed her lips to his shoulder, and down his collarbone, while she moved her hand over him.
“You’re so soft,” he said, peeling her bloody lab coat from her shoulders. “So breakable, but not. Strong in the way only soft things can be.”
His hands on her felt so good, so right. “You promised me fucking against a wall,” she said breathlessly.
“That I did, Doctor.” He hoisted her up effortlessly, and she wrapped her legs around his hips.
She regretted not being able to play with his cock anymore, that gave her more power over him than any curse or binding ever had—the power to give pleasure or deny it. But that meant he was going to fuck her, and she knew it would be good.
He made short work of her slacks, tearing them from her. That was one way to try to keep her from going back to the facility, but she found she didn’t care.
Adam kissed her again and pushed his length inside of her as he pressed her back into the wall. There was little preamble, but she didn’t want it or need it. She just wanted him—hard and fast.
As soon as he began to move, that lightning snapped between them and sparked deep inside, almost as if—oh god!
“Elizabeth!” he growled against her ear. As if that spark was something she’d done, and not him. Or maybe she had, or he’d turned her into this primal thing that could only feel. Could only want.
Could only gorge herself on need.
She liked how the cold, craggy cave wall felt against her back, the contrast of the heat of his skin, but it too was like rock. So hard everywhere. She loved touching him, raking her nails across his back because of how much he liked it. It made his hips piston a little faster, a little harder.
He was so deep inside of her, and she felt impossibly stretched to allow his girth, but she liked that too. She wanted more.
So she told him. She dug her nails into his flesh, “More, Adam.”
“More what?” he rasped.