Page 91 of Play Dirty
“Look how beautifully you take me.” I rasp as her forehead presses against mine, both of us watching as I slowly push back in. “You were made for me, Shiloh. Look at us. So fucking perfect.”
She whimpers, her nails raking softly down my spine. My forehead is still pressed against hers, our breath tangled. I kiss her. Slow and deep as we move again. No rush. No rage. Just rhythm. Just reclamation.
Each stroke writes over what we lost.
Each gasp from our lips heals a wound, erasing all the time we spent apart and in someone else's arms.
She pulls me deeper, her legs wrapping tight around my waist, her voice cracking as she moans out my name, “Nico.” Just before her walls strangle my cock, and she shatters. There’s nothing but her at this moment.Just the shape of us, covered in drying clay, pain, and desire, molding into something almost sacred.
“I love you.” She breathes hard, her voice small but certain. I smile at the words, feeling hope and warmth. Something that I thought died long ago.
I close my eyes and let the words sink in, not because I don’t believe her, or because I don’t feel the same. But for so long, I imagined hearing those words and hated myself for wanting them. Deep down, I knew behind the hate and the insults that Shiloh Johnson wanted me just the same.
“I know.” I breathe against her skin. “I’ve never stopped.”
And she breaks again, shuddering beneath me— her tears mixing with the sweat on her cheeks. I follow her to the deep end, mouth pressed against her heart.
“It’s always been you.,” I growl as I fill her up with everything I've held back. Breeding her because she’s mine to fill.
To use.
To ruin.
To love.
We collapse together, still tangled. The only difference now is that we are whole. I press my forehead to hers, and for once, I want to say it back. Those three words. Those eight letters that have been carved into my heart, are working their way up my throat. Words that were hers from the moment I laid eyes on her. I knew it back then, and it’s even more clear now— stronger, despite being buried deep inside for so long. The words spill out of my mouth before I can shove them back down.
“I love you, Shiloh Johnson.”
She freezes, and her breath hitches like she’s afraid she’s imagined it. Her fingers trail up my arm, her leg curling around my hip as she pulls me closer. “Say it again.”
I smile against her skin. “What?”
“Eight letters. Three words. Say it.”
“I love you.”
This time she doesn’t reply, but the way her body melts into mine tells me what words could never. The studio is silent aside from the fans, Arctic Monkeys playing softly from her speaker, and the beating of our hearts. We are a tangled mess of limbs on the cold ground, yet all I feel is warmth. Our clothes are scattered around us, her legs are draped over mine, and my hand is resting on the curve of her waist.
We just exist. No need for words. But our bubble is shattered by the pings of our phones. She doesn’t move as I hesitate to reach for it, afraid of what comes next, because I want more of this. More of her. I want to hide us somewhere the secrets can’t find us, but the thing about these skeletons is that they always come out of the closet.
The screen lights up in the low light.
The Pulse Blog
Shiloh’s breath catches in her throat as I stare at the glowing screen. “He killed June.” Time stops as I slowly turn to her, placing the phone on the ground before pulling her into me. “How did you figure that out?"
She lets out a deep breath. “I’m not ready to talk about it. Not now, just know that you’re protected, let’s just say I exposed some of the fucked up things that happen back at the club.” I place a kiss on her hair, inhaling the sumptuous scent of her. “What happens now?”
She shrugs, grabbing my hand and placing hers on mine. My hand is so large compared to her dainty one. “We live.”
“I like the sound of that.”
Chapter Thirty - Six
Shiloh
Two months later…
