Page 48 of Unleashed By Eden

“Fuck, Vi,” he groans. “That’s it.”

Just as the scream leaves my lungs, he roars, head thrown back and muscles straining. I wouldn’t be surprised if three rooms down heard it.

It feels less like sex and more like an exorcism.

Carter pulls out carefully, and the warm slickness trickles down my inner thighs. He collapses on top of me, chest heaving, his weight pinning me to the carpet. I rake my fingers through his hair and push it back from his forehead, both of us still catching up to our breaths.

“That was . . .” I start, then fade out. The English language escapes me. “I actually have no words.”

He laughs against my shoulder. “Transcendent, therapeutic, and out of this fucking world?” he suggests.

“Let’s go again,” I murmur, then sink my teeth into his shoulder just to make him jolt.

“Give me a minute,” he pants. “That orgasm was years in the making.”

I roll us so I’m on top, my thighs sliding over his, the mess between us slick and hot. “Exactly,” I say. “Hurry the fuck up, because I’m done waiting.”

Dragging my soaked pussy up his body to where his thickening cock lies along his stomach, I slot him against my slit and rock back and forth.

“I’m a fan of the hardware. That’s new for me.”

“I’m glad you approve.” One arm is bent behind his head, the other anchored on my hip, guiding my movement. We both stare at his pierced head disappearing between my lips.

“What a sight,” he mutters. “I never thought I’d get to see this.”

“Same,” I admit softly.

“What do we do about Liam?” he asks.

I glare. “Can you please not mention my brother’s name while I’m humping your cock?”

He laughs. “Fair point.”

My eyes travel over his chest as I keep rocking, fingers tracing the shapes and lines of his tattoos. Some are music—notes and lyrics. Others are patterns and symbols. Tiny marks of things I don’t know.

I stop at the gray wolf inked over his ribs. Its eyes are a vivid violet, strange and arresting, the tattoo different enough from the others that it stands out.

I bend down to get a closer look.

“I got that for you when I was twenty,” he says. “The gray fur matches your eyes. The violet eyes . . . self-explanatory.”

I look up sharply.

“Thought I had the gray color right. Didn’t know your eyes turn into a fucking storm when you’re wet. Gonna have to fix that.” He winks.

I slap his chest. “Idiot.”

He smiles. “I wanted to get something more obvious, but your brother isn’t stupid.”

“It’s beautiful.” My fingers drift, tracing the lines of the wolf inked into his skin. The curve of its jaw. The sharp intelligence in its eye. “Why a wolf?” I hadn’t even come up with the name Vega Wolfe when he got this.

He watches my hand instead of my face. “I always knew you were strong and fierce. A force to be reckoned with.”

My mouth twists to the side, unsure what to do with that. Compliments usually slide right off me. From him, they don’t. My thumb lingers over the wolf’s left violet eye before I pull my hand back.

“Come on, rock star,” I murmur against his mouth. “Time’s up. Show me what you’ve got. But we gotta move, my ass and back are taking a beating from this carpet.”

He laughs, eyes lighting up with mischief. Then his hands clamp around my thighs, and in one fluid move, he sits up, shifts to his knees, and rises—lifting me with him, my legs wrapped around his waist.