Page 55 of Married As Puck
I tilt my head, forcing his eyes back to mine. “Then maybe it’s time you learn a different way.”
His jaw ticks, and for a moment I think he’s going to argue again, maybe shout, maybe throw something. But instead, his lips twist into something dark, dangerous and kind of hot.
“Or maybe…” he mutters, his voice low, raw. His eyes blaze into mine. “…maybe I should just do this.”
And before I can breathe, his mouth crashes against mine—violent, desperate, all teeth and heat. It steals the air from my lungs, steals the ground from beneath me.
I gasp into him, but he swallows the sound, his hands gripping my waist so tightly I know I’ll bruise tomorrow.
My back slams into the wall, the sharp bite of plaster against my spine making me moan. His tongue pushes past my lips, claiming, punishing, needing. I clutch his shirt, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer. The latter wins.
“Cameron—” I manage between kisses, but he cuts me off, grinding his body against mine so hard my knees nearly buckle.
“Don’t talk,” he growls, his voice rough like gravel. “Just feel…please.”
His hands roam with no patience, shoving my shirt up, dragging his fingers over my skin like he’s trying to memorize me and erase me all at once. It’s rough, reckless, like he’s pouring every ounce of his fear into the press of his body against mine. My pulse hammers as his mouth trails down my throat, biting, sucking hard enough to leave marks that scream possession.
I’m dizzy, but I don’t want it to stop. Every rough push, every frantic kiss makes my blood surge hotter. I arch against him, begging silently, urging him closer, deeper.
When he finally frees me of my clothes, there’s no tenderness, no hesitation. He takes me against the wall, hard, fast, relentless. Each thrust is raw, punishing, but I cling to him, nails digging into his shoulders, loving every second. It feels like he’s unraveling, breaking apart inside me, and somehow that makes me whole.
My cries echo in the room, mixed with his low, guttural groans. It’s rough, almost too much, but I don’t want gentle. Not now. I want this side of him. Wild, untamed and so incredibly hot.
When I shatter around him, it’s with his name on my lips, a desperate plea and a declaration all at once. And as he follows me over the edge, slamming into me one last time, his forehead crashes against mine, both of us breathless, both of us lost.
For a long moment, we just stay there, pressed against the wall, clinging to each other like we’ve barely survived a storm. His arms cage me against the wall, his forehead pressed to mine, both of us gulping for air. For a man who’s built walls so high, I can feel one of them cracking now.
He exhales, heavy and uneven, then mutters so softly I almost miss it. “Stay with me tonight.”
I blink at him, heart hammering.
“Yes,” I whisper before my brain can interfere.
His lips brush mine again, slower this time, and when we finally move to the bedroom, it isn’t rough or punishing anymore. He wraps himself around me like he’s terrified I’ll vanish if he lets go and I love it.
The next morning, I’m the first to wake up and my first instinct is to roll over and find an empty space beside me. But he’s still there.
Cameron Gray, the notorious runner, is still lying in bed with me, one arm thrown over my waist like I’m his anchor.
My chest swells, warmth blooming inside me. Maybe it’s silly, but this… this means something, right?
When his eyes flicker open, he doesn’t push me away. Instead, he smirks, voice rough from sleep.
“Hi,” he says and pull me close to him.
“Hi,” I say and snuggle up to him.
“You’re not going to work today right?”
“Nope, it’s a Sunday.”
“Good, get dressed. We’re going out.”
“Wha—"
When Cameron said we were going out, I definitely did not think that we would go shopping.
Two hours later, I’m in a boutique, standing in front of him in a ridiculous sequined dress, hands on my hips. “You dragged me out of bed for this?”
