Page 11 of Redline Communion

I hold his gaze.

“Keep going.”

The first real push of him steals every clever thing I might have said. Pain flashes bright enough to make my hands lock around his shoulders, and Rafe stops immediately.

“Too much?”

“No.”

“Ash.”

“I said no.”

He studies my face long enough to make sure I mean it, then continues.

He kisses me before I can start thinking again, which is probably strategic. There’s nothing graceful about it, all teeth and breath and too much sensation, both of us rougher than we probably need to be because neither of us has ever been particularly good at doing anything important gently.

The wanting is easy.

Everything underneath it is the problem.

Rafe’s grip tightens.

“You’re killing me, Vale. This ass is so tight.”

“Good.”

He laughs once, breathless, then takes over.

After that, I stop pretending I’m the one setting the pace. Every movement drags another sound out of me I’d rather not hear myself make, and Rafe hears every one.

Of course he does.

“Fuck. It’s about time we gave in to this thing,” he says against my mouth. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Fuck you and then fuck me, asshole.”

“That’s currently the idea.”

I laugh despite myself. That should not make any of this hotter.

It does.

I reach for myself again because dignity has already left the building and there’s no point chasing after it barefoot. For once, I let myself want something without immediately calculating what it costs.

“I’m close.”

“So am I.”

Rafe catches my face.

“Look at me.”

I do.

That should be the difficult part.

It isn’t.