I’d never experienced anything like this in my life. I was at his mercy, and I loved every moment of it. I’d let go completely, of everything. I couldn’t think, I could only feel. Being taken by Manic was better than any medication or therapy session I’d had.
He kissed along my shoulder as his hips slammed into mine from behind. I was a hot ball of pleasure and teetering on the brink of a whole hell of a lot more.
“You gonna come for me again, Addie? You gonna let me feel that tight pussy squeeze down on my cock?”
“Mm-hmm.” It was all I could get out.
“Then give it to me,” he demanded, hitting me deep and slapping my ass at the same time. Then again.
I gave him what he wanted—I screamed into the covers, coming so hard my vision blacked out for several seconds.
Manic fucked me through it, his big cock pounding into me as I helplessly pulsed around him over and over again. He groaned low and rough and finally came, throbbing deep inside me, gliding in and out of me until we both collapsed against the mattress.
He pulled out carefully, rolled away, tossed the condom in the trash, then arranged my limp body where he wanted me, laying over his chest.
He gripped my ass with one hand, his fingers deep in the crack of my butt, brushing my pussy. With his other hand, he gripped my jaw, tilting my head up so he could give me a soft kiss, then squeezed my ass again. “Rest, cupcake, then I’m gonna fuck you on your back.”
I nodded against his chest. “M’kay.”
“Then you’re gonna suck my dick and ride it.”
“Sounds good.”
“You think I’m joking?”
I looked into his eyes. He was not joking.
Who needed sleep, anyway?
* * *
The first rays of sunlight peeked under the curtains.
Manic was asleep beside me, breathing slow and even. I took in his strong features, softened in sleep, and my belly did a strange flip.
I needed to get out of there.
Sneaking out was a shitty thing to do, but the way I felt, I couldn’t face him. Not yet.
I quickly slid out of bed as carefully and quietly as possible, dressed, grabbed my shoes, and rushed to the door—then stopped and turned to get one last look at the man softly snoring. I ached in a way that I knew I would feel for a week, like he’d said I would. He’d given me exactly what I needed when I’d needed it most.
He rolled to his back, and I flinched, because I realized I liked Manic a whole lot. Too much.
Fear pulsed through me, irrational and real. The kind of fear that wouldn’t make sense to a lot of people. Fear born from tragedy so profound that it altered you in ways you never fully understood until you were curled in the fetal position on the floor.
I winced.
The kind I thought I had under control—until I lost Macy.
I quickly walked out and closed the door softly behind me.
The kind of fear you’d do anything to avoid.