Page 54 of Veil of Ashes

He pulls me off abruptly, dragging me up his body, his kiss fierce and desperate, tasting himself on my tongue. “Need you now,” he says, voice rough, and before I can respond, he flips me onto my back, the motion swift and fluid. My legs fall open, pussy dripping, ready, and he positions himself, thrusting in deep with one smooth stroke.

I cry out, the sound sharp and raw, as he fills me, thick and unyielding, stretching me perfectly. He doesn’t pause, setting a relentless pace, the mattress creaking beneath us, the headboard tapping the wall. My nails rake his back, and I rock up, meeting every thrust, my clit grinding against him, sparks igniting with each hit.

“Harder,” I gasp, voice frayed, legs tightening around him. He growls, driving deeper, the wet slap of his balls against my ass loud and obscene in the quiet room. My pussy clenches, soaking him, slickness dripping down my thighs, pooling beneath me.

He pulls out suddenly, hands grabbing my hips, and I feel the shift before I see it. “On your knees,” he says, voice low and commanding. I comply, scrambling to all fours, ass up, head lowered, hair sticking to my sweat-slick face. He moves behind me, one hand steadying my hip, the other guiding his cock as he slams back in, the angle deeper, hitting spots that make my vision blur.

I scream his name, the sound muffled against the blankets, my hands gripping the sheets. His thrusts are relentless, each one rocking me forward, my ass bouncing against his hips. His hand cracks against my skin, a sharp sting that draws a moan, my pussy tightening around him. He spanks again, harder, and I push back, riding him wildly, chasing the edge.

“Fuck, Kieran,” I pant, voice breaking, pleasure coiling tight in my core. He leans over me, chest pressing against my back, his breath hot against my ear as he thrusts deeper, the new angle making me tremble.

He pulls out again, and I turn around. He lifts me effortlessly, my legs wrapping around his waist, ankles locking behind him. He thrusts up, pinning me against the wall, his cock plunging deep, the force making the wall shudder. I claw his shoulders, gasping, the intensity overwhelming.

His mouth finds my breasts, lips closing around one nipple, sucking hard, teeth grazing just enough to make me arch. He switches to the other, leaving them wet and aching, the cool air sharpening the sensation. I grind down, my clit rubbing against his pelvis, pleasure spiking with every movement.

“More,” I beg, voice wrecked, hands tugging his hair. He growls, fucking me harder, the wall trembling, his balls smacking loud against me. My pussy gushes, slick and hot, dripping onto the floor below, a small puddle forming.

He lowers me suddenly, my feet hitting the floor, and spins me, bending me over the nightstand. The wood creaks under my grip, a gun clattering to the cement with a metallic clang. He kicks it aside, his hands spreading my thighs, and slams back into me, the angle shallow but fast, my ass bouncing with each hit, pussy gripping him tight.

“Come for me,” he says, voice rough, one hand slipping around, fingers finding my clit. He rubs in tight, slick circles, the pressure perfect, and I shatter, screaming his name as the orgasm tears through me, fierce and blinding. My pussy spasms, gushing wet, juices coating his cock, his thighs, dripping down my legs.

He pulls out fast, stroking himself, and I drop to the mattress, lying back, chest heaving. He groans, low and guttural, as he comes, hot spurts landing on my breasts, painting my skin white, thick and messy. I gasp, watching him spill, the sight pushing another aftershock through me.

He drops to his knees beside the bed, leaning in, his tongue tracing slow, deliberate paths across my breasts, lapping up his cum. The wet heat of his mouth makes me moan, soft and broken, my hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. He licks every drop, tasting himself on me, his tongue swirling, leaving my skin tingling.

He collapses beside me, pulling me into his arms, our bodies slick with sweat and cum. My head rests on his chest, his heartbeat strong beneath my ear, the room thick with the scent of us—sweat, sex, whiskey. I trace a scar on his side, fingers lazy, the weight of what we’ve done settling over me.

This wasn’t planned, wasn’t supposed to happen, but it’s real now, carved into my skin, my soul. His lips graze my forehead, soft and lingering, and the vulnerability between us hangs heavy, raw and unspoken.

Outside, the desert hums, vast and unyielding, a world that doesn’t care what we’ve found here. Can we hold this, this fragile, burning thing? Or will it crumble under the weight of everything else?

For now, I don’t know. I just cling to him, to the warmth of his skin, the steady rhythm of his breath, and let it be enough.

Chapter 19 – Kieran

The desert doesn’t end. It just stretches on and on.

It stretches in every direction, bone-dry and brutal. A landscape built for the dead and the damned. I keep the throttle steady as dust kicks up behind me in a long, disappearing tail. The sky’s wide and colorless, the road barely a suggestion beneath my tires. The kind of road you don’t come back from.

The sun bleeds across the mountains, orange and slow, like it’s too exhausted to rise all the way.

Same.

The microdot sits in the glove box—silver case, cold and harmless on the outside, dangerous as hell on the inside. Offshore account numbers. Private buyers. Proxy routes. It’s the spine of Rizzi’s empire, traced down to the marrow. And it’s mine now.

For a price.

I shift gears and keep my eyes forward.

But it’s not the road I see.

It’s her.

Last night.

Her breath ragged. Fingernails clawing down my spine. Her mouth on mine like she needed to bite the past out of both of us.

No poetry. No promises.

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