Page 40 of Piston

I peer around his broad shoulders, my post-dance floor haze evaporating in an instant. There, sprawled across our bed, is a naked woman. A club whore, by the looks of her smudged makeup and cheap lingerie scattered on the floor.

"Who the hell are you?" I demand, my voice shaking with a volatile mix of shock and fury.

The woman sits up, a smug smile playing on her artificially plumped lips. "I'm Piston's old lady. Who the fuck are you?"

My heart seizes, a wave of nausea crashing over me. This can't be happening. Not after everything we've been through. Not after he claimed me, in front of God and the Iron Reapers.

Piston's face hardens, his eyes flashing with a dangerous light. "Get out," he snarls, jabbing a finger towards the door. "You don't belong here."

The whore pouts, her breasts spilling obscenely from the sheet she clutches to her chest. "But baby, I thought-"

"You thought wrong," Piston cuts her off, his voice colder than I've ever heard it. "I ain't your baby. I ain't your anything."

He steps fully into the room, hauling me in after him. His grip on my hand is the only thing keeping me upright, the only tether in a world turned upside down.

"See this woman?" he says, his gaze never leaving the intruder. "She’s my old lady. The only old lady I'll ever fuckin' have."

The whore's eyes widen, darting between us in disbelief. "But you said-"

"I didn't say shit," Piston roars, slamming his fist against the wall. The room shudders, a picture frame crashing to the floor. "I’ve finally found my goddamn reason for living."

He turns to me then, his expression softening imperceptibly. "That’s right baby, you're it for me. "

Tears blur my vision, my heart swelling with a fierce, all-consuming love. This man, this beautiful, broken man, is mine. And I am his. Anything else is just background noise.

"Get the fuck out," Piston growls, his attention snapping back to the whore. "And spread the word. Hers is the only pussy I want, the only pussy I'll ever fuckin' need."

The woman scrambles from the bed, gathering her clothes in a haphazard bundle. She shoots me a venomous glare as she scurries past, but I barely register it. All I can see is Piston, his chest heaving, his eyes blazing with an intensity that steals my breath.

The door slams, the sound ricocheting through the charged silence. And then we're alone, just us and the weight of the future stretching before us.

Piston turns to me, his expression a mix of fury and desperation. "Jenny, I swear, I didn't-"

I cut him off with a searing kiss, pouring every ounce of my love, my trust, my commitment into the press of my lips against his. He freezes for a heartbeat, then his arms come around me, crushing me to his chest as he deepens the kiss.

We break apart, gasping for air, our foreheads touching. "I know," I whisper, my hands fisting in his cut. "I know, baby. I trust you. I'm yours, completely."

A broken sound escapes him, half-laugh, half-sob. "Fuck, Jenny. You're everything to me. Everything."

Our clothes hit the floor in a frenzied rush, hands and mouths exploring with a desperate hunger. We tumble onto the bed, a tangle of limbs and gasping breaths.

I straddle him, sinking down on his hard cock with a moan of pure bliss. His hands grip my hips, his eyes locking with mine as I start to move.

"Say it again," I murmur, my hands splayed across his chest, feeling the thundering of his heart beneath my palms.

"Say what?" he grits out, his hips surging up to meet my downward thrusts.

"That I'm your old lady."

"Fuck, baby." His grip tightens, his eyes blazing with a fierce possessiveness. "You're mine. My old lady, my heart, my fuckin' soul. I'm nothing without you, Jenny. Nothing."

Tears streak down my face as I ride him harder, chasing the edge of oblivion. "I love you," I gasp out, my body trembling with the force of my impending release. "I love you so goddamn much."

"I love you too," he rasps, one hand sliding between us to rub at my clit. "Come for me, baby. Let me feel you."

I shatter with a cry, my world narrowing to the exquisite pleasure radiating from where we're joined. He follows me over the edge with a hoarse shout, his hips slamming up one final time.

We cling to each other as we float down from the high, sweat-slicked skin and racing hearts, and whispered words of love. In this moment, nothing else matters. Not the club, not the world outside these four walls.

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