Page 35 of Devil’s Torture

He shrugs; the movement is casual but the way he’s looking at me isn’t. It’s intense. “I only want to be here with you.”

Something in his voice has me shifting in my seat. Before I realize what is happening, he picks me up and stands. My arms wrap around his neck and I hiss, “What are you doing?”

“I’m carrying you into the bedroom.” He says it like it makes complete sense.

“Why?” I must look ridiculous as I look up at him and blink with huge, round eyes.

“Because it’s been far too long, and thoughts of burying my cock inside of you are too fucking distracting.”

I don’t tell him to put me down. I don’t even think about stopping him. My fingers dig into his shoulders and my thighs press together.

Rune smirks and it’s devastating in the best way possible. I was already ruined for this man, but when he smirks, it does something to me.

His touch is gentle as he sets me back on my feet after closing the door and locking it for good measure. I feel needy as hell, and it makes my head feel fuzzy and light. I’m not entirely sure I like the feeling.

When our gazes lock, he rasps, “Do you want this?”

I should look away. I should take a step back. I should tell him I don’t want this, that I don’t want him.

Instead, I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him down to me. “I want you,” I whisper the words against his lips and then he’s kissing me like I’m more sustaining than any breath he’s ever taken before.

It’s intoxicating and I allow myself to melt into it, melt into him. He’s right there, holding me close while his large hands roam over my body. Every movement feels natural, like there aren’t ten years of silence between us.

Our clothing falls away, not with hurried movements and ripped fabric, but with reverence and careful precision. I feel the weight of his gratitude and the way he’s unwilling to squander the moment or cheapen it.

He pulls back from me just long enough to shed the last of our clothing before he lays me down on the bed and settles his large frame over me. I moan into his mouth as my back arches, and I allow the passion I’ve only ever felt with him to consume me whole.

It was always this way with him—controlled and more than a little reckless.

As his mouth moves down my neck and over my collarbone, goosebumps pop up on my skin. I feel his mouth curve into a smile right before he sucks my hard nipple into his mouth. His large, calloused hand moves up the inside of my thigh and I’m practically vibrating with anticipation.

“Fuck,” he grits out through his teeth, “I’ve been waiting to be buried in your tight, wet heat for far too long, Bex.”

“Please,” I mewl, the sound pitiful and filled with the plea for more.

More of him.

More of this feeling.

I want everything and I don’t want him holding back. I need it.

He pushes a finger inside of me slowly as if to test whether I’m ready for him. I already know I am; I can feel how soaked I am.

“Fuck,” he groans, “I’m not going to last. This is going to be fast.”

There’s a warning in his voice, but I don’t heed it. I don’t need to.

“Rune,” I growl, my voice fierce, “stop teasing me and fuck me already.”

“Bexley,” he rasps.

It’s the only warning I get as he shoves three fingers inside of me and curls them just right. My hips shoot off the bed, but his large frame doesn’t allow me to move. Then his fingers are gone as he positions the crown of his cock at my entrance.

As he pushes inside me, I feel my body opening for him. Accepting him. Welcoming him. The way my walls stretch around him burns in a way which is familiar and completely new. My nails dig into his shoulders, and my eyes roll back in my head.

“That’s it,” he coos, “your pretty pussy is opening up so perfectly for me.” A strangled sound comes from the back of his throat when he’s buried to the hilt and I clench around him. “Even fucking better.”

I don’t need him to explain. Because as he starts to move, I understand perfectly. The first few strokes are slow, measured, and controlled.