Page 61 of Enemy of the State

His pace is brutal, punishing, harsh in a way that’s gloriously sweet. Wiggling my fingers, I attempt to gain purchase around the metal faucet, to no avail, eliciting a cry of frustration and ecstasy into my gag as Sean promptly begins to hit my G-spot.

Tingles spread through my limbs as my head starts to go fuzzy, on the brink of my orgasm.

“I love watching your greedy cunt eat my cock like it’s starving.”

I shriek into my gag as I clamp down around him, unable to control the small spasms he’s summoning from me. He hits the ball of nerves inside me over and over again. Grabbing my braid with one hand, he yanks my head back so that I’m forced to watch him in the mirror as he fucks me to within an inch of my bloody life.

At this angle, I catch the smirk crawling over his face as his thumb and forefinger move to pinch my nose, making my legs tremble at the intensity.

“You weren’t quiet,” he remarks, his breaths strained. “Should I still allow you to come?”

I can’t help it, I wail into my gag, nervous that this might ruin me, thathemight ruin me.

Please, please let me come,I beg him with my eyes.I need this, I need you.

He releases my nose and yanks out my gag, and I guzzle in air as he slams into me again while stroking my clit. “Scream my fucking name when you come, Lou. Remind this hell who’s making you feel like you’re in heaven.”

My head empties of thought, my limbs convulsing, and I come hard, chanting his name like a mantra.

He comes inside me with a grunt and tremors continue to wrack my body as I come down from the high. He withdraws from me, releasing me from my restraints and hauling me back into his arms before my legs collapse beneath me. Hauling us both onto the counter, I curl into his chest, my cheek resting against his silver tags, as the cadence of our breathing attempts to regulate.

Plunging a hand between my legs, he scoops the beads of cum that have dripped from me and shoves them back inside. Twisting my head, I find his face, confused for a moment. Since Honey Eyes knew, I assumed he was aware of my missing reproductive organs due to the exam that I didnotconsent to having, but what if I’m wrong. “You can’t get me pregnant.”

His eyes search mine with vigor, and I hold my breath until he smirks. “I know, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to stay inside of you even after I’ve left.”

A real, authentic smile inches across my face. I’m beginning to understand his fierce possessiveness. I’ve never been proprietorialabout someone before, but the more Sean worms his way into my heart, the more that feeling consumes me.

The urge to kiss him overwhelms me as he sweeps a hand over my hair, cupping the nape of my neck, but before I can lean forward and capture his lips, he presses his lips to my forehead and changes the subject. “Why don’t you have a uterus?” he inquires, his tone soft and curious.

I blink up at him once, twice, before swallowing thickly.Can he handle the truth? Will my heart remain intact after slicing open that scar again?

I must stay silent too long because he leans forward, gripping my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Promise to tell me someday, Lou. I can wait until you’re ready.”

His ability to read me, to say the right bloody shit at the right bloody time, is uncanny.

“I promise. Maybe over a glass of wine.”

He scrunches his nose, making me titter. “Whiskey then?”

His face contorts in obvious distaste, and I roll my eyes. “Jeesus Kristus,what do you drink?”

“Beer. Not really a liquor guy.”Bloody figures.

“I could go for a beer occasionally, but I’m mostly a wine connoisseur. Although, I do like a good sipping vodka from time to time,” I reply, thinking of the last time I had a good sipping vodka at one of Conall’s incredible dinner parties that he throws, featuring world-renowned chefs. “It’s a good thing that your beer will go with my dream menu of juicy lamb chops, roasted turnips, or glazed peas and carrots, maybe even both.”

Running his hand down the short length of my braid, he asks, “Are you one of those women who pairs her wine with her food too?”

I smile as I shrug nonchalantly. “Of course. You get the full flavor profile that way.”

He chuckles, his chest vibrating against my body. “Beer goeswith everything. More importantly, what thefuckwas that menu?That’s the food you dream of eating?”

I smirk. “Today it is, but that’s because it pairs nicely with the red wine I can’t stop thinking about.”

“Turnips, really?” He grimaces. “It’s disturbing to know you dream about root vegetables.”

I laugh, the tension in my neck marginally loosening, but it’s short-lived. We fall silent, our breaths echoing off the tiled walls in time with water dripping from a leaky showerhead, the jaws of reality slowly yawning open, thoroughly prepared to bite into our momentary bliss.

Though we don’t say it, we both hold the other tighter, seemingly desperate to cling to each other as uncertainty looms over us like the calm before the storm.

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