Page List


Font:  

I pursed my lips, immediately obeying and growing more turned on with the harsh command.

My pants finally floated to the ground, leaving me naked from the waist down, apart from my heels.

Keltan’s eyes were almost black, his entire body rigid with need. He stepped forward, yanking my legs apart with his hands on either side of my thighs. I immediately complied, despite being exposed and vulnerable in such a position.

His eyes met mine.

“I’m gonna fuck you. But first I’m gonna taste you. ‘Cause I only have the memory of you on my tongue. And that memory ain’t good enough for a second longer. And for the rest of the foreseeable future, I’m making sure that I get a fuck of a lot more than a memory. Every single day I’ll make sure of that.”

His promise was followed by him dropping to his knees in front of me. I instinctively draped my legs over his shoulders. One hand rested on my hip bone as the other reached up to press against my mouth.

It can’t have been a comfortable position for him, even with his long arms, but I didn’t think on that for long, considering his mouth covered me and all coherent thought slipped away into the storm.

He worked me like the kiss—relentless, brutal, exquisite—all the while silencing my cries with his hand.

Not that it took long for my body to erupt into a thousand different pieces as he brought me to the apex of the storm.

I was recovering, still jerking with aftershocks when he stood, his hand going to my neck and claiming me with a kiss that tasted of me and him.

“Yeah, baby. No memory measures up to that. And I’ll never fuckin’ let that become one. Not ever,” he growled.

His forehead stayed pressed against mine, one hand at my neck, the other making quick work of his belt.

His eyes were on mine while he positioned himself at my entrance. The yearning for him inside me was only just bearable. I jerked against him as he didn’t move. Or at least tried to. His hand bit into my hip, stopping me.

“Keltan,” I pleaded, voice unrecognizable.

His eyes burned into mine. “You admit it?” he rasped.

I blinked. “What?”

I would have been willing to admit I was on the grassy knoll at that point if it meant he would push inside.

“That you were mistaken. That you really are mine.”

“Yes,” I said instantly.

“Yes what?” he asked, pressing into the most sensitive part of me so we both hissed with need.

“Yes, I’m yours,” I breathed.

“I own you,” he growled, his voice tight, rough. Wild.

I blinked at him. “And I own you.”

I barely got the words out before he surged into me and swallowed my cries with his kiss.

He wasn’t gentle. Not that I wanted him to be.

What storms were gentle?

He pounded through everything, his thrusts ruining me, flattening every one of my defenses, yet my storm met his at the same time.

His mouth released mine, replaced with his hand, and then he continued to build me into the climax that might just drown us both.

I heard nothing. Or perhaps heard everything and didn’t even register it. The thumping of his desk as he used his considerable strength to break both of us in two. The strangled breaths from his taut throat. The sound of us meeting in the most exquisite sex that side of… anywhere.

It accumulated into stillness, into some sort of eye of the storm as my eyes never left his, roving over their wild desire. The proof of everything in them. I did own him. He was owning me in the most brutal way possible, but only because he was mine.

On that thought, the eye shifted to the storm once more, and I was overcome with the wave of both our climaxes.

Time and matter and everything else but the two of us was nothing of important.

It stayed like that for a long time.

Too long.

And not long enough.

But stillness didn’t last forever.

Chaos invariably won. Always.

Keltan’s eyes didn’t leave me as his hand slowly moved from mine, but not before he gently brushed his thumb against my bottom lip in a tender gesture that I felt to every corner of my mind—which he’d laid to waste.

All of those boxes, all locked and ordered?

Scattered everywhere.

“Baby,” he murmured. He leaned forward, the motion sending my body into spasm as he kissed me chastely on the mouth, his forehead against mine.

“You understand yet?” he murmured.

I wanted to say no. To plead ignorance. Or at least scramble to find the ice queen and plead indifference.

But there were very few places in this world where one could be completely honest. In the moment after the person you love had laid you to waste, was still inside you, it was little more than sacrilege to lie. Physically impossible.

“Yes,” I whispered. “I wish I didn’t,” I added, giving him the closest thing to an admission of my terror at basically everything he offered. And then admitting to myself that that terror of not taking it was so much worse.


Tags: Anne Malcom Greenstone Security Romance