Page 62 of Ravaged
“No.” I shake my head for added emphasis. “I’m on the pill. And I’m clean. I wouldn’t lie to you about that. I’ve also”—I pause, wetting my lips—“never been with anyone without a condom.”
Including him.
That night months ago, we’d used them each time. But now, I don’t want anything between us. I just want ... him.
His answer is to notch his cock at my entrance and push inside.
A cry wells up in my throat, and I arch my back, neck straining, eyes closed. One of his hands tangles in my hair, pulling my head back up. He waits until my lashes lift, until our gazes meet and catch fire together.
“I’m clean, and I wouldn’t put you in danger,” he says on a low rumble.
He pulses his hips, burying more of himself inside me. Stretching me. Claiming me. It might as well be the first time we’ve had sex, and my flesh flutters around his cock, accommodating him. Welcoming him. He drives forward again, taking more of me, and his mouth closes over mine, capturing my gasp. I chase his tongue, his lips, and when he lifts his head, I’m panting. And he’s completely seated inside me.
“Look at me, Miriam.” He lifts his hand from my hip to grip my chin. “I haven’t been with anyone since you.”
Surprise wings through me, but he doesn’t allow me time to dwell on that announcement, and damn, do I want to dwell.
But he drowns me in ecstasy, mastering my mouth and my body. Greedy, almost manic hands shove up my sweater and bra, cupping and molding my breasts, tweaking my nipples. Currents of electricity zigzag down my belly to my sex, and my core clenches around his flesh, grasping at him as he thrusts and strokes. Burying himself in me over and over. Fucking me into oblivion.
I twist beneath him, opening my mouth to his voracious kiss and my body to his driving dick. He dips his head, pressing a hard kiss to the top of my breast, then sucking the beaded tip into his mouth, pullinghard. I sob. Honest-to-God sob. Because I’m a living, breathing ache that needs to come for him. For me. For us.
The last release shattered me. This one will decimate me. Leaving nothing but ash.
I grasp at his head, gripping his hair, holding him close, pulling him away. I’m a mess. A crying, throbbing, right-on-the-edge-of-losing-it mess.
“I can feel you, sweetheart,” he mutters against my wet skin. “I can feel your perfect little pussy squeezing me, ready to let go. Let go, Miriam.”
He reaches between us, rubs his thumb around my clit, across it once, twice, and not another firm caress is needed before I’m coming so hard the scream can’t leave my throat, though my lips part wide. The ecstasy traps everything within me, locks my muscles, my breath—hell, my mind—down, freezes me in a single perfect second.
Then I detonate.
His “Oh fuck” dimly reaches me, and I hang on to him, my sole port in the chaos that I’ve willingly thrown myself into. More tremors shake me, but they’re not mine. They’re Jordan’s. And I tighten my embrace, welcoming the triggering of another orgasm as he pours into me.
And we fall.
Together.
Tomorrow I’ll worry about who will be there to pick up our pieces.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
MIRIAM
“We fuck. And we fight. I think that makes us the best of friends.”
—Sarafina Rose to North the Woodsman, Ravaged Lands
“Well? Aren’t you going to offer me coffee? I’m cold, and my ass is numb from sitting on your porch for the last hour.”
I draw to a halt as I approach my house, my breath forming a small cloud in front of my face in the chilly morning air. My heart pounds against my chest like a wild thing, and only the swift recognition of my sister’s voice and the vague shape of her shadow prevent me from throwing my huge purse at her and running for my car. Exhaling a loud sigh, I move forward again at a halting pace.
“Uh, not to sound ungracious, but what the hell are you doing here?” Okay, so I sound ungracious. But it’s cold and dark out—the sun hasn’t risen yet since it’s just six thirty in the morning—and my heart still thinks my sister is Michael Myers bent on my imminent death.
Zora stands on my top step, dusting the back of her jeans off, but her narrowed brown gaze is fixed on me.
“You haven’t been answering your phone since last night. I had Cyrus call Jordan to see if he’d talked to you, and surprise, he’s not answering his either. But I’m thinking to myself, that’s not right. She can’t be with him because she was just out with Daniel Granger last night. And your business is your business—”
“And yet you seem okay with airing my business for all my neighbors to hear,” I mutter, marching up my steps and past her to my front door.
