Page 113 of Forged in Rain

“I said I’m sorry!”

He blinks, and I cover my trembling lips, turning my head away. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“Beauty,” he says softly.

“No.” I slash my hand through the air. “Go. For your sister.”

“What are you saying?” he growls.

“This isn’t going to work. It’s dangerous. Between Pam and John. Just go.”

He stumbles back, and I smile, catching the sob in my throat. “They’re never going to let me be free. But maybe you have a chance. I’ll do whatever I can . . .”

He shakes his head, looking at me like I’ve grown two heads, and I falter. My heart hurts, and rubbing the horrible ache, I whisper, “Just go.”

“Fuck that. You’re fucking mine, Rainbow Flaherty. Mine.”

He grabs me up and pulls me around before slamming his mouth to mine. I clasp his head and kiss him desperately, my tears tasting salty between our lips.

Pressing me against the wall, he grinds against me, and I straddle his hips, wrapping my legs around him like a vine. The contact makes me dizzy, electricity zinging through my veins, and I clench his arms because I feel like I could float away.

But my dad’s face flashes before me, followed by John’s, and with a sob, I push him away.

Growling, he grabs my face. “I’ll never fucking give up. Never. If I have to take on the fucking Mafia to do it, fine. But you were mine when you looked at me with those wide eyes across a fucking fire. I’ve wanted you since, and I want you now.”

His eyes seer me with their intensity as he continues. “I won’t fucking live without you. I won’t live without this. Get me?”

Searching his eyes, I say quietly, “What if we don’t get a choice?”

“Then I’ll die trying,” he says roughly, pulling my skirts up and pressing his fingers to my aching clit.

“Cyn,” I moan, and he leans forward, licking the tears from my cheeks.

“You’re mine. Your tears, your smile, this fucking pussy,” he says, sliding his fingers inside me.

“Cyn,” I moan.

“I’ll burn the world for you,” he breathes.

My heart pulses, and I buck against him, desperate to get closer. “I need you. I need to feel you.”

He sets me down, pulls his pants below his erection, and grabs me up again. I scrabble to move my skirts and cry out when he slides inside.

He feels so good that I shudder in his embrace, mewling my need into the world without a care for who might hear.

Dropping his forehead to mine, he says in a whisper, “Beauty.”

“Cyn,” I whimper.

“Mine.”

He pulls out and surges into me, over and over, as I jerk with every thrust, writhing against him because I need to be closer, so much closer.

“Yes, Cyn, more,” I cry, and he grips my hips so tightly they sting, grinding against me rabidly.

“Fuck, love,” he moans.

I hump his length and fly over, leaning into his shoulder as I lose myself. He holds me close, his breaths harsh in my ear as he orgasms, his heartbeat thumping heavily under my cheek.

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