Page 51 of Warrior

My knees buckle.

After a long moment, I take a breath. My first breath in what feels like a decade. I exit the bathroom and go straight for the kitchen, where I find Reese. He seems lost in thought, but that changes when I don’t stop in the doorway.

“I’m so glad you came for me,” I breathe.

I kiss him.

Dazzling electricity bursts across my lips, the teeth of his touch burying in my mouth. I cup the back of his neck, and it only takes a moment for him to respond. Eagerly. He kisses me back, his hands at my waist.

More.

I push at his shirt, sliding it up. We separate just long enough to get it off. His skin is so soft. Never mind the healing bruises. He’s like silk. I tear my lips from his and drag them down his jaw, his throat. I nip and suck, my hands roving down farther.

“Tem—” His voice hitches.

I unbutton his jeans and shove them down.

“Artemis—”

“Shh,” I whisper, going to my knees.

His dick quickly rises to meet me. I avoid looking Reese in the eye, taking in a familiar cock. Familiar. Familiar.Familiar.

Yes. Right.

Terror held me hostage, but now I can’t seem to grasp at the trauma. It’s just… away. I curl my fingers around him, jerking him off slowly. Until my mouth is watering and precum beads at his slit.

I want to taste him.

I do.

He fills my mouth, and he makes a noise above me. I fall upon him, until he hits the back of my throat. I barely gag. My cheeks hollow, sucking him until his hips jerk forward.

Deeper, harder.

I want him to fuck more than just my face, but the taste of him is addictive. I keep going until his fingers twist in my hair and he pulls me off of him.

His expression is dark.

“You sure?”

I nod.

He stands me up and tears my shirt and sweatshirt off. I unbutton my jeans, careful to not dislodge my hidden contraband, and stand in just a sheer bra and panties.

His gaze locks on my nipples, visible through the bra.

I reach up and unclasp it, letting it fall.

He reaches for my right breast, his fingertips grazing the ring. “You kept it?”

“And got a matching one.” I tip my head back. The way my hair moves sends a tingling sensation through my scalp and down my back.

“Fuck,” he breathes. He hoists me up on the counter, knocking aside the empty water glass. He touches at the edge of one of my wounds, the stitches tight, the skin pink as it heals.

But that’s all the attention he paysthat.

His head lowers, and he licks at my nipple. My back arches. The new feeling is overwhelming, so much so that my vision goes white. I hang on to the edge of the counter, so tight my nails might as well be cracking. Not that it matters—I’d happily trade that for his mouth on my breast.

---