Page 111 of Rogue Mission
He’s going to take me with him.
Shoving deep, he seats himself against my ass, his throat filling with a loud growl. And when he folds down, covering my back with his chest, I start to pulse around him.
“I’m… gonna come?—”
“That’s it, Rosalie. Fuck. Come on your dick. You own this monster now.”
Gasping, I buck below him, my heels kicking up into his hips. He doesn’t stop. He drives me right through that one, knowing I’m on the orgasm train now.
“Feel how deep I am?” he says hoarsely, his thrusts pushing me up the bed.
“Yes!”
“Feel how hard I am for you?”
“God. Yes.”
He’s losing control, his cock pulsing wildly now. “Are you ready for my seed?”
“Please… please.”
He fists my hair, bites my neck, fills me with ten brutal inches over and over, taking us somewhere I never imagined I would.
A pure, carnal, brutal destruction.
Sweating, sobbing, I nod, my voice rasping as my stomach clenches and my thighs burn.
“Yes. Yes. Oh. God. Yes.”
“Ah! Fuck.” His pace falters when his eyes close and his head tips back.
“Go!” he orders.
And when he folds his hand over mine, crushing my fingers between his, I do. I go like a missile.
I cry his name, my body collapsing flat to the bed, twisting below him.
He seems helpless to stop the freight-train orgasm that tears into him.
“Oh, yes, ah, yeah.” He shudders, watching my eyes glaze, my lips tremble.
But I don’t know what it is to truly break until he whispers, “Yours now.”
Unfortunately, he’s not the only thing to break. With a horrendous crash, the bed rail snaps, dumping us onto the floor.
THIRTY-NINE
Grumbling, my girl pushes a finger into my sternum.
“I now know what the walk of shame is. Or I will. Very soon.”
I hide my grin as I kiss her cheek. “Get some sleep, baby. Don’t worry about Walton. He’s not going to be pissed, I’ll buy him a new bed.”
She gives me a look that could melt glass. “He’s some kind of trained killer, Justice, he might decide that’s a fatal offense. What if it was like his grandmother’s bed or something?”
This time, I’m trying to suppress a laugh because I know it will only make her more upset. “If it is, we’ll put flowers on her grave or something.”
“Oh, Jesus,” she mutters, burying her nose in my chest with a pitiful moan. “I don’t know if I can go down there.”
