Page 13 of Bunker Down, Baby

She tastes good. Sweet and rich, like chocolate and sin and everything I shouldn’t have.

I should slow down. I should take my time.

But I can’t.

Not when she’s already arching into me, not when she’s driving me insane with every little sound that leaves her mouth.

I shove a thigh between hers, grinding against her just to hear her gasp.

She purrs.

I growl, biting her bottom lip. Hard.

She moans.

Jesus fuck.

The hot water slicks her skin, sliding between us, making her impossibly smooth under my hands.

I drop one wrist, grabbing her ass instead, yanking her up against me, and she doesn’t hesitate, her legs wrap tight around my waist, arms snapping around my neck.

She’s bare, soaked, and wrapped around me like she fucking belongs there.

Maybe she does. Maybe that’s the problem.

“Say my name,” I breathe against her mouth.

She shudders, lips curving. “Evan.”

“Say it like you mean it.” I tighten my grip on her ass, dragging her against me.

“Fuck me, Evan.” She shivers.

And I feel it everywhere.

I lean in, biting along the curve of her neck, and she whimpers, her fingers digging into my hair.

God, I love that sound.

And I hate how much I love it.

She shifts against me again, slick, hot, so fucking ready.

And then she grabs my cock.

I curse, slamming my hand against the tile beside her head, bracing myself because, holy fuck.

She hums appreciatively, her grip firm, expert, stroking just once, just enough to make my breath stutter.

She leans in. Mouth to my ear. Voice dripping with satisfaction. “You’re mine now.”

Her words slam into me like a goddamn truck.

You’re mine now.

It should piss me off. Should make me fight harder.

Instead, it makes something primal snap in my brain.

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