Page 62 of Vandal Unbound

“I choose the mattress, Vandal.”

“Fuck,” he groans as he grabs me and rolls us both onto our sides. My leg is trapped beneath his waist, but his hands are tight on my ass. His fingers dig into my skin when he starts to move his hips.

And…

Stars!

I had no idea you could see them without actually coming, but the feel of him buried so deep inside me makes everything simply unravel.

I’m being manhandled by Vandal, and I love it. The realization hits me so suddenly, it steals the breath from my lungs.

I’m not smart, was never great at school, which is why I’ve always worked in bars, so I have no idea what makes two people come together and ignite like a match and gasoline.

It could be biology, chemistry, or alchemy for all I know. But there’s something about the way this man’s hands move over my body that steals the breath from my lungs.

He rolls us again until I’m pinned beneath him. “Give me time, Daze. And I promise to try not to disappoint you.”

The honesty in his voice is more devastating than anything else tonight.

I place my hand to his cheek. “I believe you.”

Something a lot like hope flickers across his face, maybe a sense of resolve. But his hips begin to move in earnest. A painfully slow extraction, followed by a sharp thrust that nudges me along the bed. He keeps his weight on his elbows, his hands on either side of my face.

Suddenly, under his gaze, the guilt I’ve been pushing down threatens to surface again. My ex. His tattoo.

The things I haven’t told him because I don’t want to add to his burden.

But tonight, I’ve seen him breathe for the first time without looking haunted.

And maybe it makes me a coward, because maybe it’s selfish to want one night where we aren’t scared or fighting or bleeding. Where we don’t have impossible responsibilities and nothing for ourselves.

It’s one night where we get to simply exist.

I clutch at his back, trying to keep hold when the thrusts become harder and the pace becomes faster. I wrap my legs around him as best I can while our kiss gets messy. Gasps, and sweat, and saliva, and warm breath.

Chaos taking over everything.

“Oh, Daze. Fuck. I’m gonna come soon,” Vandal says.

I shift position slightly so there’s more pressure on my clit, and gasp.

I can feel it start to build.

“Don’t stop,” I beg.

“Ah, Daze, come for me. I can’t…”

Maybe it’s the panic that he’ll stop too soon, but it’s enough to fuel the kernel of my orgasm.

“Ah, fuck. Fuck.” He grunts, his face buried into the pillow.

Vandal’s thrusts change as he comes and loses the rhythm he had, but I grip his ass hard and grind against him, a frantic back-and-forth that has my face screwed up and my body tense before exploding in something stronger than the first.

I press my open mouth to his shoulder to stifle the scream. “Van.” The word comes out on a muffled sob. There will be teeth marks on his skin after this.

And marks on my heart that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to remove.

19