Page 81 of Nash

“Oh fuck!” I praise, biting his shoulder while I shatter, and he buries himself to the hilt inside me, and we don’t move. I feel his cock jerk, his bite sinking again into my neck. I feel my walls clenching to claim him, to make him growl with my flesh gnashed between his teeth. We let the violent release, the intense connection, the orgasmic pleasure take us together, our breaths and bodies fused.

“Nash,” I sigh in awe, in love.

I expect him to say something like he always does. Something tender that sews the pieces of me back together. Only he can.

But he doesn’t.

He pulls out, and I drip. He lowers my feet to the floor, and he kneels. Swinging my legs over his shoulders, he doesn’t say a word. I’m braced against the door as he spreads me open, burying his face in my pulsing pussy as he groans, feasting on our fuck.

“Oh god,” I moan. He’s going to make me do it. He’s going to make me come again. He’s going to leave me no doubt he’s an animal.

He jerks off to it. His cock is still hard. He’s going to orgasm again. Yes, men can do it. He may not ejaculate, but he wants this. He’s starving for it. It makes him come, eating my pussy out, so I sink my hands into his hair and force him to do it.

“Yes,” I stammer. “Eat my pussy. Drink our cum. Treat me like a fucking queen.”

He grazes his teeth over my clit, his fist pumping hard. Barely, he bites it, and I scream, my thighs shaking over his shoulders. I stare down, watching him glaring back at me like a feral dog, his muscles tense and twitching as he clasps his puckered lips around my clit and sucks so hard I have to come. I have no choice. I cry out, glossing his face with my lust, and it makes him grunt, rolling his eyes like he’s coming again, too. His thighs quiver until he stops pumping his cock.

Shaking, my body sags. I slump against the door, and he catches me. He lays me on the floor where I know he just violently tortured an evil man.

“Open your mouth,” he commands.

I part my lips for him. I let him mount over me, his cock still rigid while he drools the taste of us over my waiting tongue.

I stare back at his shadowed face and proudly swallow while he says, “That’s what it would be like if you were my queen.”

Wait.

Would? If? Were?

Notwill? When? Are?

I see it in his solemn eyes. The beast is gone, and Nash is here.

He’s telling me…

It’s over.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

NASH

Vale isn’t talking.She’s looking away from me and staring out the passenger window.

Three times, I glance over at her, inwardly hating myself. I’ve left a horrific, biting bruise on her neck. Bruises on her exposed thighs.

A bruise on her broken heart.

“It’s for the best,” I tell her.

She doesn’t answer.

“You know it had to end. You’re safe now.”

Silence.

It’s not like Vale. She’s not snarking or snapping. She’s not fighting back. She’s retreating. She’s hurting.

Iam hurting her.

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