Page 82 of Sins of the Hidden

"You take me like you were made for this," I growled, watching her gaze widen at both the words and sensation. I muffled her with my mask-covered mouth, swallowing her cries as I began to move, each stroke pounded deeper, claiming more. The wet slap of skin meeting skin filled the room with obscene music, her arousal making each thrust easier and more devastating than the last. Her nails raked down my back, leaving marks I would wear proudly, badges of what I'd earned from her surrender.

"Look at me," I commanded, hand locking her face in place with one hand, fingers pressing into the soft flesh of her jaw, forcing her eyes to meet mine. "I want to see exactly what I do to you." She met my stare—glassy, overwhelmed—her eyelids fluttering with each thrust but struggling to maintain the connection I demanded. Every muscle in her face betrayed her surrender as I drove into her like I needed to leave pieces behind. The wet slapping sound of skin against skin filled the room, a primal rhythm punctuated by the creak of the bed frame beneath us, mingling with our ragged breathing and her muffled moans that caught in her throat with each deep stroke.

She was the boundary I'd crossed and would never come back from. Every inch. Every sound she made. Every fucking thought in her head—it all belonged to me now.

I hooked her legs over my shoulders, the new angle allowing me to hit that spot inside her that made her eyes roll back. Her body folded beneath my towering frame, the height difference between us evident even as her warmth surrounded me. My thumbs traced the silvery lines webbed across her skin—evidence of every inch she'd ever survived, pressing into them,worshiping each mark with brutal pressure. "Every mark, every line—you made this body for me," I growled, following the delicate pathways with my fingertips. "Perfect. Fucking perfect." I pressed harder into the marks, claiming them as mine, territory I would defend against anyone who made her doubt their beauty.

Her little palms flattened against my chest, gripping desperately as I fucked her open, so fucking breakable. Her moans cracked like glass in the air, her body yielding to everything I gave her—and still, she begged for more. My beautiful, breakable girl.

"That's it, Oakley. Take all of me." Every muscle in my body coiled as I claimed her with abandon, my hands branding the spill of her hips and the crush of her curves, watching in fascination as her body gave, then rebounded like it wanted more with each powerful thrust. She was made of something real. Something that fought back when touched. I memorized every dip and swell with the weight of my palms. I sealed my touch into those valleys—those soft, perfect places only I got to touch.

Her walls began to clench around me, signaling her approaching climax. I reached between us, my thumb sweeping her swollen clit, circling it with just the right pressure. "Come for me again. Now."

Her nose flared, trying to breathe through her orgasm, through me, through everything. I clamped my palm over her mouth, cutting off her sound, her breath, everything but the desperate tension in her thighs and the way her body bucked helplessly beneath me. Her eyes went glassy with heat, not fear, pupils blown so wide the iris was merely a thin ring of color. I pressed deeper, harder. "Take it. Breathe through me. You don't get to come easy."

"Oh god—" she managed to gasp against my hand, words fragmented and desperate.

As if on command, she shattered beneath me, her entire body convulsing in violent surrender. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed through her, her inner walls contracting in merciless, milking pulses around my length. Her back arched off the bed, limbs failing her as control abandoned her completely. Incoherent sounds escaped where my hand didn't quite cover.

Her depths seized around me in savage rhythms, each pulse drawing me further into oblivion.

She shimmered in the dimness, sweat turned to stars, a constellation of diamonds capturing each quiver beneath. Salt bloomed across my tongue as I traced a path along her collarbone, savoring the aftershocks that chased my touch.

The symphony of her fractured breathing, punctuated by broken fragments of my name, dismantled the final vestiges of my restraint.

The sight of her coming undone pushed me over the edge, and with a final, brutal thrust, I buried myself deep inside her as I spilled into her in thick, possessive waves. My vision went white at the edges, blood roaring in my ears as every muscle in my body tensed and released in a rhythm as old as time.

Collapsing beside her, I gathered her trembling body to my chest, our sweat-slicked skin sliding together as we both fought to catch our breath.

I cradled her against my chest as she twitched beneath me, breath catching on each wave, her breath hitching. "You feel that?" I murmured into her hair. "That emptiness inside you? That ache? That's me now. You'll never be rid of me, Oakley. Not even when you try."

The taste of her lingered on my lips, my tongue, mixed with the salt of her sweat and tears of pleasure.

My fingers dragged slow, possessive lines across her overheated skin, mapping every trembling dip and curve like I owned it. She'd melted beneath my touch, but tension coiled beneath the surface—tight, sharp—every held breath betraying how badly she wanted to come undone. The tips of her ears had turned scarlet, a detail that caught my attention immediately.

"What?" I demanded, feeling her squirm slightly against my chest.

She bit her lower lip, gaze flickering everywhere but at me. "Do you have... um... fantasies?" The question tumbled out, followed immediately by visible regret. "Never mind. That was stupid. Forget I asked." She attempted to roll away.

I caught her, one hand pinning her shoulder against the mattress. "Fantasies?"

"You know, things people think about... during..." Her voice trailed into nothing, hands fluttering uselessly in the air.

"During sex?"

She groaned, pale skin turning a tantalizing red that made me want to fuck her again. Her breath hitched when she felt how hard I already was against her spine.

"Do you?" I stared at her, expression unchanged.

Her fingers twisted into nervous knots in the sheet, knuckles whitening. "I was just—I shouldn't have—" She suddenly grabbed the pillow and pulled it over her face.

I yanked it away, tossing it across the room. "Don't hide from me."

A crimson wave bloomed across her cheeks, spreading down her neck and chest like wildfire. "I have one," she whispered from behind her hands. "But it's so embarrassing."

"Tell me."

"It's when..." Her eyes darted everywhere but my face, pulse fluttering beneath my fingertips like a trapped bird. "Not, like,creepy-sleeping. Just...you know. The idea of waking up... kind of already there."

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