“I’m ready for that.”
He smiled a little. “I hope so.”
He kissed me again, but this time pulled me to my feet. I helped him undress, shirt first, then jeans, then boxer briefs, and took his hard shaft in my hands. I stroked him as he kissed me, then pushed me back to the bed, turned me around, gripped my hips, and pressed himself against my soaked spot. I looked over my shoulder, eyes wide and wild, as he slowly sunk himself between my legs.
I groaned and buried my faced in the sheets. Pain, pleasure, need, it all raced and roared through me. I moved back along his shaft, pushing against him, taking every inch of his thick cock and moaning his name. He took me back then, hand gripped on my hips, fingers pressed tight against my pale white skin, and we moved in a rhythm together, my pussy gliding up and down his shaft, sweat beading my skin as I gasped.
He grabbed my hair, growled his pleasure. I loved the way he knew what he wanted and how to take it, the way he grabbed me and spanked me and wasn’t gentle, wasn’t kind—but knew where the line between pleasure and pain was. He walked that line, tipping me one way and the next, making me feel things I’d never imagined and more. He turned me around and I rode him, moaning, rocking my hips, kissing his lips as his hands teased my breasts. He licked the sweat from my chest, bit my bottom lip, and fucked me, god, yes, he fucked me, fucked me like I needed, fucked me deep and rough, unrelenting and hard.
We became tangled in the sheets, and nothing mattered. There was his taste, his lips, his hands, and our bodies. He spread me wide and slipped inside, arms wrapped around my body as I rolled my hips against him. He ground his cock inside, fucked me faster, licked my nipple, bit my ear.
“This is my dream,” he growled, “every day taking you like this, making you mine, teasing you, drawing you out, making you moan. You’ll come crawling to me on your knees and beg me to make you feel good, and I’ll give you want you want, Cora, give you everything you want.”
“Oh, god, yes,” I whispered. “I didn’t know I needed this.”
“I knew,” he growled. “And when we survive—we’ll make something happen. I’ll make you mine.”
I gasped and arched my back as he fucked me faster, faster, and I knew I was close, knew I couldn’t hold it back anymore. I felt the orgasm peak and roll through my body, and he kept going, fucking me through it, making me gasp, until he tightened and came inside me. For a few blissful seconds we came together, our bodies drenched in sweat and intertwined, the world outside a speck of nothing in the back of my head, all concept of time erased, nothing but Reid and his body, his lips, his voice, his eyes.
Slowly my orgasm receded. We fell back against the pillows, his arms around me, breathing each other, feeling each other. I curled closer against him and let myself enjoy the moment, even if the world began to creep back in and all my uncertainty and doubts gnawed at me.
He ran his fingers through my hair. “We need to talk about what we’re going to do next.”
“Do we have to?” I chewed on my lip. “We could just stay in bed.”
“That sounds good to me.” I looked up and saw him smiling. “But unfortunately, I doubt that’s a good long-term strategy. We can’t stay here forever.”
“What can we do, though? You dropped a bomb on my cousin’s house.”
“True.” He grinned bigger. “Bastard didn’t see it coming.”
I sighed and kissed his bare chest. “Seriously, Reid. What can we do?”
He shifted his weight and sat up. I felt the sheet fall off my shoulders, and I got a pang of desire as his eyes moved down to my chest. Even minutes after coming between my legs and he still looked at me like that—I couldn’t help but like it.
“Way I see it, we have two options,” he said, meeting my gaze. “First option is we run.”
“Would you do that?” I asked, cocking my head. The idea of leaving Philadelphia had occurred to me a thousand times, but I’d never thought it would actually happen—especially not after I agreed to Vincent’s crazy marriage plan.
“My whole life’s been this city,” he said, staring down at the sheets. I could see the conflict in his eyes, and I suddenly felt the urge to tell him everything would be okay—even if I knew that was a lie. “Hedeon’s been good to me.”
“But he let this happen.”
“He did.” His jaw tightened. “He tried to talk to me about it.”