Lightning that had the power to incinerate all the darkness and all my past until we were nothing more than two people grinding together, writhing together, swept up and drowning on a forgotten mansion’s floor.
My arms ached to wrap around her. My fingers almost bled for the pleasure of touching her.
But I forbade any method of control.
She’d taken me.
She could have me.
I wouldn’t dominate her.
I wouldn’t direct or demand.
I was hers and completely at her mercy.
I grunted as she rode up, stealing my mind one piece at a time, claiming my heart until every broken fragment was hers.
I couldn’t catch a breath, groaning as she fucked me, stroke by stroke, replacing all the pain of sex with all the pleasure of it.
When she’d hugged me before, it’d overwhelmed me. The sensation of her giving me something so innocent and meaningful had tipped me over an alarming edge.
This was more than any sex or kiss or touch I’d ever experienced. Not because I’d been a plaything and treated like trash, but because this was her. This was us. This was raw and elemental—the joining of two bodies long after two souls had met, acknowledged, and intertwined.
She rocked up again, and I came apart beneath her.
The tingle I’d been chasing and lost thundered back with a vengeance, catapulting down my spine and shooting between my legs.
Christ, it felt good.
I was losing my goddamn mind.
“Give in,” she murmured, her voice adding kindling to the already hissing fire in my belly. Unlike the fire that’d burned me alive before, this one lived inside me. She’d conjured it and nursed it, turning a tiny spark into an uncontrollable inferno, glowing so bright it illuminated corners of my soul that were rotten and torn, granting sunshine into places where perpetual night once reigned.
After decades of agony, she granted me peace, and I struggled.
I didn’t know how to be.
How to be the man she deserved.
I raised my hands to push her away, but she moaned under her breath and rode me harder.
And I didn’t stand a goddamn chance.
The tingle morphed to outright annihilation.
I wanted to come so fucking badly.
I wanted to come in her.
Fireworks shot through my cock as my entire body bunched and my forehead furrowed with greed. She vibrated above me, a living angel knowing full well how enraptured I was by her touch. How desperate I was for friendship. How afraid I was of reaching for something that might not exist.
She sank deeper.
And that was it.
I threw my head back, my skull clunking against the wall. “Shit—”
HE DIDN’T JUST COME.
He broke apart.
Wave after crippling wave, he gave in to me.
His belly rippled with shockwaves, his cock spurted over and over inside me, his breaths haggard, and grunts loud and animalistic. He didn’t speak. He was beyond speech. But each savage noise he uttered gave me all the thanks I needed. Every groan throbbed with gratefulness and manic desire.
I let him pump into me, vicious and needy as he suddenly wrapped his arms around me, trapping me over his lap, holding me down all while he purged every drop of evil into me.
“Goddammit—” he grunted, spearing deep, ensuring I would always know what it felt like to be taken by this lonely creature.
I didn’t think it would take him long to come. He’d been on the knife-edge the moment I’d sank over him, but watching him combust, hearing him gasp with bliss and knowing I granted that pleasure made my core clench in need.
There was something between us.
Something that hissed and licked and sparked.
And I wanted to feel what he did. I wanted to explode in his arms.
Like all the secrets of tonight, I had another. One I would bury deep, deep down because I would never admit that taking him this way had turned me on. While I’d ridden him, he’d worshiped me. I’d been his everything. I’d felt invincible as he’d forbidden himself from touching me until the very end, allowing me to rock and coax, greedily taking every inch of what he offered.
That was a heady thing indeed, having control over a man who’d only moments ago attacked me.
He’d gifted himself to me entirely, wholeheartedly.
Not as a slave who believed he didn’t have a choice but as a man who’d only just remembered how to live.
I gasped as the truth of that crowded my mind.
Kas was rough and wild and unstable, but perhaps that was the healing process for someone who’d only just come back to life? He’d spent a decade just existing, turning off his humanity, willingly slipping into silent loneliness and endless monotony.
Maybe I didn’t continually hurt him like I believed, but maybe, just maybe, I was making him come alive again. Maybe he’d begun the journey back to being healthy, to being whole.
Maybe this is the turning point, and everything will be better now.