Page 46 of Burned in Stone
I giggle, and he kisses me deep, sharing the taste of myself on his tongue. “You’re wearing too many clothes.”
“Then fix it,” he challenges, rolling off me and lying back on the bed.
I get up on my knees, making quick work of his belt and jeans, dragging them down his hips along with his boxers. When his cock springs free, I can’t help but stare. He’s bigger than I expected, thick and hard and perfect.
“See something you like?” he teases, glint in his eye.
“I see something I want inside me.”
“Then get your ass up here and sit on it.”
I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anything, so I climb back on the bed, gripping him in both hands, greedy with how thick and hot he feels in my fists.
“Fuck, Mercy.” His hips jerk as I stroke him. “Your hand feels so good.”
The sight of Cash with his head tipped back, veins stark on his neck, lips parted, is enough to make my thighs clench together.
“My mouth would feel better.” When I lean forward, tongue teasing the head, he shudders and grips my shoulder, halting my movement.
“Angel, wait.” His voice is rough, almost strained, and I immediately pull back.
“Did I hurt you?”
“No. Never. I just…I need…” He shifts quickly so he’s sitting, big hand reaching up to gently cup my face. “I have my own demons, OK? From before. I need to be the one calling the shots here. Can you give me that?”
My heart cracks open. Because I know exactly what he’s not saying. I know what it’s like when your body remembers things your mind tried to bury.
I look up at him, seeing something raw and wounded in his eyes. Cash has been so careful with me. Learning my triggers, giving me space, making sure I always have choices. Whatever happened to him on the streets, whatever was done to him—I don’t need the details to understand that he needs this. And more than that, I want to give it to him. Want to be the person who makes him feel safe the way he makes me feel safe.
“Whatever you need,” I say softly, lying back and letting him take the lead. “I trust you.”
He cups my knee and parts my thighs, eyes glued to mine like he’s daring me to look away. I don’t. I can’t. Even when he lines himself up and pushes in, thick and slow, stretching me open until it hurts and then feels so fucking good I could cry, I keep my gaze on him, letting him see every twitch and tremor in my body.
“Jesus, Mercy,” he grits out, his breath ragged and chest heaving as he bottoms out, filling me to the hilt. “You’re so fucking perfect. You feel—you feel like I was made for this.” His hands are careful at my hips, firmly guiding me as he draws out to the tip, then thrusts back in, quick and deep enough to make me gasp. He sets the rhythm, slow at first, hips rocking against me in deep, measured strokes that force me to feel every single inch. Each thrust is deliberate, controlled, hitting spots inside me that make me see stars.
“That’s it,” he growls, picking up the pace. “Take it all, angel. Take every fucking inch.”
His control starts to slip as I clench around him, my second orgasm building fast. He hooks one of my legs over his shoulder, changing the angle and driving so deep inside that I claw for theheadboard, desperate to hold myself together. His hair falls over his brow, sweat slicking his skin, eyes burning hungry and wild.
“Fuck,” he pants, not slowing, not even pretending to hide how close he is. “You feel so fucking good—so good—” His rhythm breaks, and I know he’s on the edge, but he grits his teeth and forces himself to slow down, to drag it out, to keep me right there with him.
He slides his fingers between us, finding my clit, circling it with expert pressure, and it’s almost too much, making my thoughts scramble. I try to say his name but all that comes out is a plea, raw and torn up and throatless.
“Oh god.”
“That’s my girl,” he pants, driving into me harder. “Let everyone in this clubhouse know who’s fucking you this good.”
“Cash, I’m going to?—”
“Come all over my cock, angel.”
I shatter again, my whole body clenching around him as he slams into me, once, twice, then buries himself deep and comes with a guttural, animal sound muffled in my neck. I lock my arms and legs around him, riding out the shockwave while he shakes apart above me.
For half a second, I think about Gabriel, but the thought burns away like fog in a sunrise. Cash is nothing like him. Not in the way he takes, not in the way he gives. The difference is, here, I get to say yes. I get to say no. And no matter which answer I give, Cash is always there, always patient and supportive, never making me feel shame.
I float somewhere just beneath consciousness, a contented, out-of-body state where time stops and the only thing that’s real is the pressure of Cash wrapped around me. I don’t know how long we stay like that, tangled together and panting. There is a pleasant ache in my thighs, a lazy tingle in my fingertips, and a profound, stunned silence settling into my bones, like I have just lived through a natural disaster and survived.
After a while, he pulls back enough to look at me, his expression gone soft in a way I’ve never seen on his face before. “You good?” he asks, voice gravelly and gentle. “I wasn’t too?—”
