Page 44 of Tinsel & Chrome

“For you,” I gasp, grinding back against him. “Always for you.”

Tex doesn’t hesitate. He fists his cock, lines up at my entrance, and thrusts in hard.

My scream is muffled by the door as he buries himself to the hilt in one brutal stroke. There’s no teasing, no hesitation—just thick, deep, and devastating. My nails scrape against the wood as he grips my hips and sets a punishing rhythm, the sound of our bodies colliding filthy in the quiet room.

“You feel like fucking heaven,” he grits out, slamming into me again. “So tight, so perfect.”

I moan his name, half a sob, half a plea. “Harder.”

He gives it to me. Every thrust makes my legs shake, the door rattling with each impact. He’s using me like he owns me—and God, I want tobehis. The pain, the pleasure, the pressure—it’s everything I didn’t know I needed.

His hand slides up, wraps around my throat just enough to make my breath hitch. “Mine,” he growls. “Say it.”

“Yes—fuck, yes, Tex—I’m yours,” I cry out, the orgasm building fast and brutal.

He bends over me, his chest flush to my back, teeth scraping the shell of my ear. “Then come for me, princess.”

I shatter on a moan, my body locking down around him as white heat explodes behind my eyes. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t even slow—just fucks me through it until his rhythm falters and he groans my name, spilling deep inside me with one final thrust.

We stay there, pressed to the door, panting, trembling, tangled in the kind of release that’s too good to be clean.

When he finally pulls out and turns me around, his eyes are soft. Still hungry. Still dangerous. But soft.

And for a little while, the bruises, the memories, the rage—all of it fades away. But reality creeps back in like a cold draft under the door.

I stare at the ceiling, my fingers brushing over the sheet. “This changes things, doesn’t it?”

Tex’s hand stills for a moment, then he shifts, propping himself up on one elbow so he can look down at me. His dark eyes are serious, the smirk gone.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “It does.”

I chew on the inside of my cheek, trying to sort through the chaos in my head. “Mace is going to lose his shit.”

He lets out a low laugh. “No doubt. But he’ll get over it.”

I snort. “You’re awfully confident.”

Tex’s gaze softens, his knuckles brushing my cheek. “Because I know you’re worth the fallout.”

My chest tightens, the words hitting a place I’ve kept locked up tight. Vulnerability is a dangerous thing, but with Tex, it doesn’t feel so terrifying.

“I don’t need you to fix me,” I murmur.

He leans down, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Good. Because you’re not broken.”

For a moment, I let myself believe him. Let myself lean into the warmth of his touch and the steady calm of his presence.

But the past has a way of clawing its way back.

A knock at the door shatters the quiet, and Mace’s voice booms from the other side.

“Larissa! Tex! Get your asses out here. We’ve got a problem.”

Tex swears under his breath, rolling out of bed and reaching for his jeans. I sit up, my heart pounding, dread already seeping into my veins.

We’ve got a problem.

With this club, that could mean a hundred different things. And none of them are good.

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