Page 157 of Rush

His tenderness makes me squirm, makes me want to scream.

“How I want you to let me in.” The plea in his voice raw, edged with desperation.

I know exactly what he means. He wants more than my body. And I don’t know if I’m ready. Not again.

“How about I let you into my pussy and we call it even?” I shoot back, tugging hard against the restraints. They don’t give an inch.

His eyes flash. “You keep talking like that, and I’ll skullfuck the shit out of you.”

“So long as you’re fuckingsomething,” I fire back, breathless.

Before I can say another word, his lips crash onto mine, swallowing every taunt, every plea—I taste him, taste myself, taste us.

The kiss is brutal, consuming, and when he presses the thick head of his cock against my soaked entrance, I cry into hismouth. My hips buck, desperate, chasing him, begging him to sink into me.

I want him inside. Need it—to feel the tether again, to know this thing between us, fragile as it is, still holds.

That he still wants it. That he still wantsme.

Maybe he feels the same. Or maybe his restraint finally snaps. Either way, he thrusts forward, stretching me wide. The pressure is euphoric.

A ragged moan tears out of me. He grunts, forehead pressed to mine, both of us gasping as our bodies lock together like pieces of a puzzle too perfect to be anything but inevitable.

My body says everything my heart isn’t ready to admit.

He starts slow, long strokes that make me ache in places I didn’t know existed. His lips soften, gentling into tender kisses—kisses that feel like he’s trying to reach my very soul. Then his rhythm shifts, growing hungrier, harder. My hips rise to meet his, desperate, reckless, pounding against him with everything I have.

And fuck—he wasn’t lying. He rearranges my insides just like he promised, and every thought fractures, every fear evaporates.

Broderick doesn’t stop kissing me. Doesn’t give me air, doesn’t give me an escape. His lips and tongue claim mine, devouring every gasp, every cry, every shattered moan he rips out of me.

There’s no world outside this. Just us. Just him.

After he finds his release, Broderick unties me, rubbing gently at my wrists as though checking for marks before pulling me into his chest.

“How was that for you?” he asks, tracing lazy circles along my thigh.

“Hmm,” is all I manage.

“El—words.”

I sigh, still breathless, “Glorious.”

I hear the smile in his voice and feel the quiet shake of his chest as he tries to stifle a laugh.

“I’d like to propose an amendment to what’s left of our rules.”

The realization isn’t lost on me that we’re lying inhisbed—something we’d explicitly agreed not to do.

“And what would that be, Mr. Schwartz?”

“If we’re going to do kinky things,” he says carefully, “I’m proposing aftercare—not as a suggestion, but as a necessity. For both of us.”

“What does that entail?”

“It could be anything,” he replies, pulling me a little closer. “Cuddling. Getting you cleaned up. A snack—water. You’ll have to tell me what you need. It might be different every time, depending on the scene.”

His thumb continues its slow path over my skin. “Is there anything you need from me right now?”