Page 47 of The Cold Ride

“James.” She yelped and tried to scoot away. But I was having none of it.

We needed this to cleanse us of the past. So I swatted her ass again. “This is what will happen if you mention another man when I’m buried in your sweet pussy again. You will be punished. I’ll turn this ass of yours fucking beet red. Do you understand me?”

I landed another harsh blow on her ass. My palm stung from the force, but I wasn’t finished.

“I’m sorry.” She gasped and wriggled, like she wasn’t enjoying it. But moisture seeped from her slit. My cock jolted at the sight, aching to be back inside her again.

“No, you’re not. You wanted me to spank you. And fuck, but you’re fucking drenched, babe. I think I’m going to have to punish you more often.”

“Do it. I want you to,” she moaned, tilting her hips up in invitation and arching her back like a cat in heat.

And as messed up as this was, it was oddly cathartic. I peppered her behind with another half a dozen swats until both globes blazed red. I would have stopped earlier, but her moans increased. My woman fucking loved having her ass spanked. And I obliged her.

My woman.

Fuck, she was—and had always been.

And I needed to fuck her. A haze descended over me. I gripped my dick and rubbed it through her soaked slit. She emitted a low moan full of need.

“Yeah, you like it when I’m rough with you.” Positioning my dick at her entrance, I gripped her hips. And snarled, “Tell me who this pussy belongs to.”

I needed to hear her say it. I needed to claim her body just as she’d claimed all of me.

“It’s yours, James,” she sobbed.

With a growl that rumbled low in my chest, I plowed inside her tight heat with a single thrust. She tossed her head and issued a throaty moan.

“That’s right.” I brutally thrust, digging my fingers into her hips that I bet would leave marks. And I wanted to see my marks on her body. “This pussy is mine.”

And then I proved it, pounding my fury and my agony inside her. Taking her with such intensity, there could be no doubt that I had imprinted myself on her body and soul. I plundered her pussy with a single-minded determination to own every part of this woman.

My woman.

“James,” she whimpered, slamming her hips back, as caught up as me in the fury of our lovemaking.

I skimmed my hands over her toned back. She arched into my touch like a cat. I gripped her shoulders, pummeling her cunt. The wet smack of our flesh echoed in the basement. I drew her torso up until her back pressed against my chest, but never stopped fucking her. I wanted to live inside her pussy. I wanted it to be my sanctuary. Because she was mine.

That also meant that I was hers.

Her moans fueled my lust. But I needed even more connecting us. I cupped her cheek and turned her face my way, claiming her lips for a devastating kiss while my free hand cupped her pussy.

She clenched around my shaft, and I groaned. No one else had ever made me feel the way Rory did. After ten years without her, I knew no one would ever take her place. She was the light to my darkness, the part of me I didn’t know was missing.

I didn’t know if I had it in me to forgive her. I didn’t know if I could move past all the hurt and lies. But in this moment, I wanted to with everything inside me.

I smacked her pussy.

She jolted in my arms. And her pussy squeezed my cock. I ate her passionate groan. Her moisture dripped over my fingers. She liked it rough. She let me be as rough as I needed to be, and in turn, exorcising my demons. In her arms, I forgot the horrors of war, the friends I’d lost, all of it. Because here, holding her in my arms, none of it mattered. She was all that mattered.

And she couldn’t know what it meant to me. Sliding inside her, I found peace.

It’s why as we came together I vowed to try. I vowed that I would work to leave our past behind us. We had been given a chance to start over fresh. And I wanted the promise of a future with her. The same future I’d envisioned all those years ago but had been cut short.

But it had morphed into something even more tangible. Because instead of merely hoping for certain outcomes, I could see what our future would entail and felt as if my heart would burst from the emotions swamping me. I held my future in my arms.

When wound up spooning, still connected, on the floor.

“We should go take a shower and get all the paint off,” she murmured.

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