Page 72 of Pretty Cruel Love

I don’t ask what she needs.

I give it.

I peel the blanket back inch by inch, revealing soft skin still damp with heat. I slide her panties down her legs and toss them aside. Then I lower my mouth to her thigh, kissing my way up with slow, reverent care. Her hips arch off the mattress when I reach the spot between her legs.

She gasps my name—whispers it like a prayer.

I kiss her deeply, hungrily, savoring the way she melts for me. Then I pull myself up over her, positioning myself between her thighs, and I still.

Her eyes lock on mine.

A silent question.

A silent yes.

I enter her slowly—inch by torturous inch. Her hands fly to my back, her nails digging in as her body arches up to meet mine. I move with her in sync, in rhythm with the storm, each thrust paced to the crash of thunder, each groan lost in the rain.

I kiss her through it all.

Her mouth.

Her jaw.

Her throat.

The soft, tender curve between her breasts.

Her pulse.

She wraps her legs around my waist and tilts her hips to take me deeper. I roll us over, letting her straddle me. Her hair falls in wild waves as she moves, eyes closed, breath caught in her throat. Lightning bursts across the ceiling. The lights blink out completely.

We fuck in darkness and fire.

She grinds harder, rides me faster, breaking apart over and over in my arms. She collapses against my chest, breathless, trembling. I flip her beneath me again and take her harder this time—rougher, deeper, needier—because I need to feel her give in. I need to feel herstay.

We fuck in every room of my suite.

Against the windows as lightning lights her bare silhouette, on the couch as thunder shakes the walls….

In the kitchen, over the counter, her legs locked around me as we lose track of time entirely.

And when the storm finally softens, when the wind dies down to a hush and the world feels like it’s catching its breath, I bring her back to bed. I lie beside her, tracing circles into the curve of her hip.

She buries her face into my chest, and for the first time in what feels like forever—I have a good night’s sleep in this cabin with her.

32.5

SADIE

(Late) Night Eleven

Ilie in the dark, completely naked and curled against Ethan’s chest.

He’s fucked me so long and deep I don’t know where my body ends and his begins. If I never have sex again, I won’t care—because nothing will ever touch this. He’s the standard I’ll measure everything else against, and I already know no one else will come close.

His hand moves slowly across my stomach, then drifts lower. When his fingertips brush against a scar—one ofJonathan’s—I flinch.

He pauses, his palm resting over it.

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