Page 33 of The Heart We Guard
“Ride me, Greer,” he says. “Please.”
In the bravest action I can muster, I slide my hand between us and stroke his erection. It’s thick and hard, but the skin over it is soft and warm. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Let me decide what hurts, because I want you. You’re all I can think about.”
“That’s because you haven’t left my house once in six days.”
Butcher chuckles. “Jesus, Greer. Stop being so fucking literal. It’s nothing to do with how many days it’s been or who I’ve seen. Don’t you feel it? The tension? The way we look at each other and something just sizzles?”
I let my forehead drop to his bicep. “I do.” My words are softly spoken, but I look up at him. “I really do. But this, you and me, it?—”
His lips take mine, and I tumble into what he’s asked for. I throw out all objections.
I throw out the fact he’s my patient and I’m his doctor.
I throw out the difference in our ages.
I throw out that I operate in a universe that saves lives while he operates in one that takes them.
“Don’t let what the world tells you that you should do get in the way of what you want, Greer,” he says, as if reading my thoughts.
“Tell me if it hurts,” I say.
“Won’t hurt as much as waiting. Take what you need to get there, first, because the way I feel, I’m not gonna last long.”
I climb over Butcher before reaching over to the side table. There are some condoms in there. I don’t remember when I bought them; it’s been that long since I last had sex. I grab one and hand it to Butcher.
He puts it on, but then takes my hands, tugging me down to him so he can kiss me. I hold my weight off his abdomen and shoulder, but in every other way, I sink into him.
“Greer,” he mutters against my lips, and I swear I feel the word right down in my bones.
There’s so much being said in those five letters.
His hand slides between us, and he rubs a finger across my pussy before circling my clit. I can’t help the involuntary roll of my hips as he presses firmly, offering me something to move against.
“You’re so fucking wet for me,” he says.
“Then take me,” I say, desperate for the feel of him inside me.
Butcher reaches for his cock, and lines it up with my entrance, and?—
“Oh, God,” I gasp when he nudges into me slowly, his thickness stretching me completely.
“Shit, Greer. You feel too good.” His fingers dig into my hips with a steely grip, holding me still.
My clit throbs with need.
My heart races.
I can feel his breath. My quads ache, and I allow myself to slide a little farther down his length. Every part of me squeezes tight around him.
“Fuck,” he hisses, his head forced back into the pillow.
His eyes are closed.
I want nothing more than to see this man come apart.
I want to see the power he carries with him dissolve.
