Page 27 of Devil's Haunting
With a deep breath of his clean woodsy scent, my body melts against him, and I bury my face in his chest. My heart, which has been pounding from the moment the guy appeared to form from the darkest parts of the shadows on that street, starts to slow down.
“I love you, Tripp,” the words slip from my lips without me meaning to say them. But then they’re out there and I’m not surprised and I don’t regret them. I’m not even afraid. It was time. “I love you so fucking much. You looked up at me from my busted front porch with knowing in your eyes and have been waiting for me to catch up this whole time. The truth is I fell for you in that moment too, I was just scared.”
His large, calloused hands come up and cup the soft cheeks of my face, engulfing me in his warmth and grounding me in this moment. It means something. It means everything.
When his lips take mine, there’s an urgency there, but we both ignore it. We explore softly. We move gently. Every swipe of our tongues is intentional and filled with meaning.
His hands tug and pull at my clothing until I’m standing in front of him naked. I still can’t see his dark eyes, but I know they’re filled with hunger. Because it’s the feeling coiling in my gut and begging to be set free.
When his fingers dig into my hips, he lifts me and positions me in front of him on his bike, my back draped over the fuel tank and my hair tangling with the handlebars. As he scoots back on his seat, keeping his steed of metal and power steady under us, he looks me over and takes me in.
I’m angled just enough to where I can see half of his face now, the other still draped in shadows and secrets. But that’s not entirely true, is it? This man has shown me who he is. He has shared his secrets without question, without worry. I know him.
I love him.
His hands start at my waist, wrapping around my ribs and moving up toward my tits. With every breath he takes, the sound becomes more ragged and filled with need.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous, Laiken. I don’t think I could ever tell you what it means to me that you’ve given yourself to me. Your beauty. Your trust. Your heart. I’ll protect you. Always,” he breathes out.
Tears prick the backs of my eyes. Not from sadness, but from the intensity of the moment. It’s overwhelming and, yet, perfect.
Just like everything is with this man.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I don’t believe everything will always be perfect with him. He’s going to fuck up. And so, will I. We’re both human.
But if we can find this again, if we can come back together and remember what it means to love, what it means to connect, we’ll be just fine.
“Say it,” I demand, not even a little bit ashamed of how much I need the words in the same way I need his hands on me and his cock filling me up.
One side of his mouth tips up as he leans over my prone body. His mouth hovers over my skin, barely touching while letting me feel his warm breath which competes with the cooler air of the night.
“You’re mine,” he breathes against my skin.
I shake my head rapidly and groan, “No, that’s not it. Say it.”
The sound of his chuckle wraps around me in such a way that I almost don’t hear him undoing his zipper. As the head of his cock kisses my entrance, my eyes snap up and find his.
“I love you, Laiken. I have since the moment I fell through your porch, and I’ll never stop. You’re mine. My little Mischief-maker. My Old Lady.”
And then he forces his length inside of me in one powerful thrust which has a moan coming from me and echoing around us. He plants his feet on either side of his bike as he fucks me, each stroke long and powerful.
His movements are slow enough that I swear I can feel every ridge of his cock as he fills me. My eyes roll back in my head when his lips wrap around one of my nipples and he bites down on the painfully hard tip only for him to lave it with his tongue.
“I’ve imagined you here so many times,” he growls after popping off one of my tits before diving toward the other one like a starving man.
I tilt my hips and try to meet his movements because I need more, so much fucking more. I want him to take me hard and fast. I need him to erase the memory of that woman trying to take him from me.
“You’re mine,” the snarled words come from deep in my throat and feel downright fucking feral.
“Yes,” he coos, his hips moving a little bit faster but still not fast enough, “I’m yours Laiken.”
The reassurance unlocks something in me and my body relaxes back against his bike. As much as I want him to fuck me hard and fast, I won’t rush him. It’s not like I’d be able to anyway.
The only thing I can do is surrender. Which is exactly what I do.
I surrender to him. To this feeling. To the connection between us. To the love we share.
I’m his. He is mine.
