Page 85 of Cruel Kiss

"Nothing between us," I say. It's not a question. We haven't used any protection since the lake. I don't want anything now. I want all of him.

"I'd rather fucking die," he agrees. He grips my hip with one hand and lines his cock up with the other. I sink down onto him slow, slow, letting him fill my pussy inch by inch. The stretch of it, the fullness, punches the air right out of my lungs.

"Oh."

"That's it." His hand spreads across my lower back, holding me steady. "Take all of my cock. Just like that. You were built for it."

I take all of him, until I'm sitting flush against him, his cock buried deep, his hands on my hips and my hands framing his face. For a second, I just stay there. I feel every part of him inside me. I feel the way he's looking at me in the dark, the streetlight through the window catching the half-gray, half-blue of his eyes.

"Look at me," he says, though I already am. "Keep looking at me. I want to watch you the whole time."

I brace my hands on his shoulders and ride his cock in the front seat of his car on the side of a dark road. He lets me set the pace. I take exactly what I want, his hands on my hips guiding but not forcing, his mouth on my throat and my collarbone and the top of my breast. The windows fog up around us. The leather creaks. Every time I sink down onto him, he pushes up to meet me, and his cock hits somewhere so deep I have to bite my lip to keep from crying out into the quiet.

"That's my girl," he breathes. "That's my queen. Take what's yours."

"Mine," I echo, and I mean it, I mean all of it. I roll my hips and grind down as the tension coils tighter and tighter in my belly.

"You're mine and I'm yours," he says. His hand comes up to cup my jaw, tipping my face so I have to keep looking at him. "That's the deal. That's the only deal that matters. Not the paper. Not the marriage.This."

He slides a hand between us and finds my clit where his cock is splitting me open. He presses his thumb there and circles. I break apart faster than I can brace for it. I clench around his cock and shake, and he holds me through all of it, whispering, "You're so fucking beautiful" again and again.

I'm still coming down when he grips my hips and takes over. He's fucking up into me hard and fast now, his control finally cracking, that iron barrier in him splintering the way it only does with me. His forehead drops to my shoulder and he says my name, my real name,Calista, Calista,and then something in Russian. He goes rigid beneath me and spills into my pussy with a groan I feel more than hear.

We stay like that for a long time, his cock still buried in me. His arms are wrapped all the way around me, my face tucked into his neck, both of us breathing hard in the fogged-up dark. His heart is slamming against my chest. I can feel it slow, degree by degree. I put my hand flat over it and let it slow under my palm.

"You're a bad man."

"I've told you that from the start," he rasps. Then he raises his eyes up. "But I'm trying to be good for you."

I lift my head and look at him. His hair's a mess. There's lipstick on his collar, mine this time, and I feel a fierce, dumb pride about that. Twelve years ago, some woman in blue silk used to kick him out of her apartment.

But where is she to be found? Not here.

Tonight, he's in the front seat of his car on the side of a road with me, his cock still inside me, looking at me like I'm the only thing in the world worth any scrap of his attention.

"We should get home," I whisper. "The sitter probably wants to go home. And also, I want round two."

He grins. "One of those things is more motivating to me than the other."

I laugh and squirm in his lap until he groans. "I mean it," I insist. "Plus the windows are all fogged up. Anybody drives by, they'll know exactly what we did."

"Let them." He kisses me and slides his tongue into my mouth. "Let all of them know."

I stay in his lap another minute, maybe two, his cock softening inside me. I refuse to be the one to move first. I feel more like myself than I have in longer than I can remember.

Not small. Not folded up. Not waiting for it to be taken away.

But whole, full, and complete.

Andhis.

24

CALI

It's a Wednesday morning, and everything is normal. Ronan left for the office at seven-thirty. The kids are upstairs. Hayden's building something with the cardboard boxes I was supposed to recycle, and Isabella is playing with dolls in the den.

I'm at the sink in my socks, rinsing syrup off two plates, when the doorbell rings.