Page 26 of When We Collide

“How about you shut up and fuck me, Lieutenant.”

Dean’s lips curl into a slowly grin against mine as he presses himself at my entrance. “Still an impatient, cock hungry little slut, aren’t you, baby girl?” he murmurs, nipping at my bottom lip as he slides just the tip in and draws back out, and I gasp. “Why don’t you show Daddy how desperate you are to be filled with his cock?”

Don’t need to ask me twice. My hips buck up and Dean groans when his cock slides in about a quarter of the way.“Fuck.”

Holy shit.

It stings like a bitch.

My breath hitches when Dean pushes himself all the way in. My walls contract and stretch to accommodate his length. After all, it has been well over a year since anything has been up there. “Fucking Christ baby, I forgot how tight you are.” Dean’s voice is strained and laced with need as he speaks. We gaze at one another, and I can see he’s fighting to keep his control. I suppose it has been just as long and frustrating for him as it has been for me.

My legs slide off his shoulders, feeling the strength and tension of his muscles as they coil around his waist as Dean lowers himself down to his elbows, positioning himself above me with intent. Our lips fuse together in a passionate and urgent kiss, while he begins to thrust into me, our bodies moving in perfect synchrony. Every movement creates a heat and friction between us that’s both electrifying and intoxicating.

With every burning kiss and forceful thrust, Dean reminds me of the intoxicating hold he has over me. The intensity between us is toxic, yet I find myself unable to resist him. He is like a magnet that pulls at my very soul, leaving me unable to escape his grasp. It's as if my entire being craves him and him alone, and I am powerless to fight it.

The scent of sex lingers in the air, our moans and breaths of pleasure along with the sounds of the bed creaking under us, fill the room. “Fuck, JJ.” Dean pants, lifting my right leg to his hip and grinding his cock into my g-spot again and again until I’m coming all over his cock.

“Oh my God,” I whimper, “Oh my God, Dean, I’m going to come… ah, fuck, fuck, I’m going to come.”

“I know you are; your tight little pussy is choking my cock,” Dean rasps between thrusts as he gathers both my legs and pushes them to my chest, driving his hips upward in short but hard thrusts, stimulating my g-spot and driving me fucking crazy. The pleasure is almost too much to bear as I soar toward the pinnacle of my orgasm. “That’s it baby girl, come all over Daddy’s cock.” Dean’s eyes roll back and bites down on his lip as I start to unravel under him. My walls pulse and clench around his cock while I helplessly cry out his name. The orgasm burns through me, my legs shaking with each wave as Dean slows his pace and fucks me through it. The wave of my climax sets off his and with a guttural groan and a cry of my name he empties himself inside me. “Ohh, fuck, yes, yes, ahh Jeyla!”

There are many, many things I love about Dean, but the way he moans and talks filth during sex sits high on my list. There is nothing sexier than a man who is vocal during sex and isn’t shy about letting you know that he’s loving every second of being inside you. Even in the moments where he has no control andhas surrendered completely to his pleasure, he looks un-fucking-real. The unbridled passion in his voice mirrors the intensity of our connection, creating a very erotic soundtrack to our lovemaking that I never want to end.

Panting, Dean lowers himself on top of me and we kiss languorously, while our heart rates slow and our breathing returns to normal. My fingers rake up and down his muscular back, and he smiles against my lips. “What?” I ask, peering up at him.

“Nothing. I just…” Dean expresses while brushing his nose over mine lightly. “I love how easy it is to fall back into old habits with you.”

“Bad habits, you mean.” I correct, raising a brow. “You’re one bad habit I can never seem to quit, Lieutenant.” Dean smiles, lifts his hands and brushes my hair back while gazing down at me affectionately. “It doesn’t matter how hard I try or how much you hurt me I somehow wind up right back here.”

“Because it’s where you belong, JJ.” My eyes close when he presses a soft kiss to my cheek. “It’s where you’ve always belonged. In my life…” he kisses my other cheek, “in my heart…” he kisses the tip of my nose, “in my arms…” he kisses my lips, “in my bed. You can try all you want and so can I, but we won’t fit anywhere else but with each other, because you and I were made for one another.”

I used to truly believe that and a big part of me wants to believe it’s still true, but then reality sets in and there is no denying the challenges we have faced together. It's been a rough road for us from the very beginning and there is still so much uncertainty looming ahead. So, the question remains - are we truly meant foreach other or are we just trying to fit ourselves into a mould that may not be right for either of us?

I suppose only time will tell if our love is strong enough to weather the choppy storms ahead.

“Stay down.”

Placing my hand on the asset’s shoulder I press him back against one of the crates stacked up in the warehouse while the icy Russian air bites through my tattered clothing. The massive, decrepit building looms around me, filled with shadows and the scent of rust, decay and gunpowder. I’m undercover, deep within enemy territory, my nerves frayed to the breaking point.

I crouch behind a stack of crates, peering through the narrow gaps. My heart pounds in my chest as I listen for any sound that might give away my position. I know they’re coming.Viktor’s men, with their ruthless efficiency and dead eyes, searching for any sign of betrayal.

A distant sound reaches my ears—a low rumble, growing louder. My pulse quickens. I know that sound too well. Trucks. Armed patrols. I duck further behind the crates, pressing myself into the shadows, trying to become invisible.

Suddenly, the wall behind me explodes in a shower of splinters and debris and I’m thrown forward, my ears ringing, my vision blurred. I scramble to my feet, instinct taking over. My eyes zero in on the asset laying on the floor with his arms over his head. Cursing, I grab him by the scuff of his shirt and pull him along to find cover. But my legs feel heavy, like moving through thick mud, and dragging a half-conscious man feels like I’m carrying deadweight.

Voices shout in Russian, harsh and urgent. I turn to see figures emerging from the dust, their faces obscured by the darkness and dust particles lingering in the air. One of them raises a rifle, and my breath catches in my throat. I duck, feeling the heat of a bullet whiz past my head.

“Come on, move, move…”

We run, zigzagging through the maze of crates filled with weapons and abandoned machinery. My lungs burn, my muscles screaming for relief, but I don’t stop. I reach a narrow corridor and slip inside, pressing my back against the cold, damp wall, trying to calm my ragged breathing.

“Oh God, I don’t want to die.”

Scowling I look down at the asset, and snarl, “You will if you don’t stay down and shut up.”

Footsteps echo, drawing closer. I lift my gun and slowly pull the chamber back. My hands slick with sweat and blood. The corridor is dark, but I can see silhouettes approaching. Viktor Lukin and his men approach with caution. They’re close, too close.

I hear a voice, harsh and commanding. It’s a voice I know, one that haunts my dreams. Viktor, a man with cold, dead eyes. My grip tightens on the gun. I have one chance.

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