Page 54 of Backstroke

“Words, little fox. I need your words.”

“I-I’m yours.” My voice quivers, just as an explosion of pleasure shoots through me. My hands fist the sheets as my body trembles beneath him. He pulls out for a moment, only to flip me on my back. It’s gentler this time and I’m amazed at his strength,to be able to throw me around like a ragdoll. He collapses on top of me, holding his weight with one arm. He’s still hard as steel as he slides back inside me. I’ll never get used to the first stretch of him. Never in a million years.

“Again,” he growls. “Say it again.” Remy rests his forehead against mine, looking deep into my soul.

“I’m yours, Remy. Only yours.”

“Mine,” he agrees as he begins moving inside me again. This time with slow, deliberate thrusts. Each swipe of his cock hits the perfect spot, forcing my orgasm to climb higher and higher.

“Fuck, Fallon, you feel so good,” he purrs into my shoulder. My nails dig into his back, needing him closer. He groans and I feel him swell inside me. He circles my clit with his thumb, making me cry out.

“I can’t, Remy!” I whimper.

“You will. Come for me, little fox,” he commands and like an obedient pet, my walls shudder around him. He groans and thrusts harder, faster. I can feel him pulsing inside me, filling me up with his seed. Another orgasm rocks through me, leaving my body trembling and shaking beneath him.

“Fuck, you take me so well. Your pussy milks my cock for everything I have.”

He collapses on top of me again, both of us panting and sweating. I can feel his heart beating against mine, and I know I’m exactly where I belong.

“There’s something I’ve never told anyone before,” he begins as he pushes the sweaty hair from my face. Fear snakes through me not knowing where he’s going with this. I open my mouth to urge him to continue but the words die on my tongue. His normal arrogant blue eyes look…anxious?

“I don’t know how to do this,” he admits. I look at him questioningly.

“I love you, Fallon,” he whispers, kissing my neck. My body stills as the words hang in the air.

Nineteen

Remington

Her silhouette is ahaunting blend of vulnerability and defiance. I watch her reaction, my chest tight with longing.

“You’re relentless,” she murmurs, not turning to face me.

“And you’re infuriating.” I move off of her and my arms wrap around her waist, pulling her back against my chest.

Her laughter is bitter. “Why do you even bother?”

“Because,” I say, my voice rough, “you’re the storm I can’t outrun.”

Fallon finally looks over her shoulder at me, her eyes a silver tempest of emotions. So much uncertainty flashes throughthem, making me want to fuck her into next week, to prove she belongs with me. I know I have to prove my words. I’ve been a dick to her, but I think it was more about the insecurity she made me feel. I always feel like my nerves are exposed when she’s around, which caused me to lash out.

“What do you want from me?”

My fingers graze her cheek. “Everything.”

Her breath hitches as goosebumps run along her fevered skin. “And what if I can’t give you that?”

“Then we’ll burn together,” I whisper, claiming her lips in a kiss that tastes like desperation and surrender. I pull her around, molding her body to mine as I ravage her mouth. Our bodies collide, a clash of need and broken edges. Fallon clings to me like I’ll disappear into a puff of smoke.

In that stolen moment, I glimpse her secrets—the scars she hides, the dreams she buries. And I vow to unravel them all, to be the one who understands her chaos. I know some, but I need to see into her soul and learn everything that makes her who she is.

“This changes nothing,” she says.

“But it changes everything,” I reply, knowing that Fallon is no longer a conquest. She’s my salvation, my reckoning. She has been all along, and it took me this long to realize it.

As dawn approaches, we lay tangled in each other, our breaths ragged. Fallon traces patterns on my chest, her touch both soothing and maddening.

I skate my fingers across her skin, leaving goosebumps in my wake. She sucks in a breath at the sensation. She’s so responsive to every single touch I give her. My fingers trace over the dove on her shoulder.

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