I tighten my arms around his head, wanting to pull him into my very heart to give him the catharsis he needs right now, and just in case this physical embrace isn’t enough, I place my cheek against the top of his head and tell him all the feelings I have about him and his confession.
“You really are a hero, Neil,” I whisper. “I thought you were before, with just the amazing work you do as a therapist, and furthermore with a security team who protects those who need all of you guys. But now? Oh my God, Viking, I’ve never felt safer, more protected. I never knew I could feel so secure and free to just live and not ever worry anything will happen to me. And now I know. Now I know nothing will ever get me or my sister or even our friends, because we have these amazing men who will literally kill anyone who tries to hurt us. How many wives and girlfriends in the world have that sense of security? How many know for a fact that their man would stop at nothing to make sure they haven’t anything in the world to fear? I’m so lucky. I’m so fucking lucky to be yours. I love you so much. I love you so, so much. And I’ll never tell. I’ll never tell anyone. It’s our secret. Ours, the guys, my sister, Vi, and Clarice—it’s all our secret. You can trust me, just as I trust you with my life.”
And then I’m flying through the air. My back hits the leather of the couch’s seat cushions before I can even inhale to squeal in surprise, and Neil is on top of me. His knees are on the rug and his lips are everywhere. My lips, my throat, my breasts, my stomach, back up to my neck. And I clutch at his hair, pulling him closer, encouraging this man to lose control when normally he has such a tight chokehold on it.
He sits back, untangling my shirt from around his fist, and I manage to catch his hand before he braces himself with it on his expensive couch. He watches me run my fingertips over his knuckles, and when I feel the ink has had time to completely dry on his skin while he was telling me his deepest, darkest secrets, I look him in the eye. His breaths saw in and out of his lungs, and as I raise him toward me, I place his giant, rough, ink-stained hand around the base of my throat, his thumb on one pulse point while his four fingers envelop the entire other side.
I swallow as his grip tightens, and I watch as his eyes grow feral. And then he’s kissing me, his lips crashing, his tongue plundering, that hand on my throat never moving even as his other one shoves down my leggings. I hear the jangle of his belt and the sound of a zipper, and then his hips are between my thighs. I gasp as that free hand strokes me, his fingers dipping into my wetness, because even when he completely loses his mind with need, he’d never risk hurting me, checking to make sure I’m ready for his intrusion.
I am. I’m so ready. More ready than I’ve ever been in my life.
And then he fills me with one powerful thrust that takes my breath away along with any thoughts other than this moment in time.
He’s not gentle. There is no sweet murmuring of promises, no platitudes and praises, no soft caresses. There is only Neil, his hand around my throat holding me steady, and his cock pounding into me at a ferocious speed and depth.
No sound leaves my lungs. There’s no way. I can’t even breathe from the sheer intensity of it all, let alone moan or speak of the complete surrender to him. All I can do is feel all of it at once, a full-body experience instead of individual sensations, and both my hands wrap around his rock-hard forearm attached to the hand around my throat and hold on as he fucks me with abandon.
Before I even acknowledge the feeling building within me, it hits an all-consuming crescendo, and I explode around him, the muscles of my core clamping around him so tight it almost hurts. And that’s when he finally lets go of my throat, my body instinctively taking a giant inhale of breath, and I moan in immeasurable pleasure as another orgasm takes over, and this time, it’s just like in those books, when I feel my soul leave my body.
Suddenly, Neil growls, and his hands clamp down on my shoulders to hold me immobile as he fucks into me several more times. And then his head falls back on his shoulders and he calls my name toward the ceiling. I shudder as I watch, suspended over our bodies, spying on us like a voyeur, as every muscle of his torso tenses and ripples as he comes, and I’ve never felt so owned, so claimed, so loved as I do in this moment with this godlike man saying my name like a prayer.