How have I managed to come to rely on him so quickly over the last few weeks?
I let out a cry of rage as I move my arms quicker, feeling the pain in my knuckles but not caring. I know the skin has broken despite the wraps around my hands. I can feel the fabric chaffing on my skin, but I refuse to stop.
I keep going, struggling for breath until I feel arms wrap around the back of me, stopping me from moving as they lock tight, my arms pinned by my sides.
I know it’s Nate from the feel of him. I didn’t hear him come in, but then I wouldn’t because the music is loud, and I was totally focussed on hitting the fucking bag.
He doesn’t say anything as he pulls me away from the bag and moves me to the boxing ring, turning me around and sitting me on the edge. I breathe deeply, trying to get oxygen into my lungs.
There’s a towel in his hand, and he brings it to my face, wiping my skin gently before moving it down my neck and to my stomach. He wipes away the evidence of my workout, running the towel along every part of my exposed flesh. And when he’s done, he lifts my arms up before removing my crop top, allowing him to wipe my breasts.
My eyes meet his, mesmerised by his actions, but his are trained on my body, on what he is doing. My breath falters as his fingers move to the top of my shorts and I lift my bum slightly, letting him slide them down my legs––along with my knickers––until he removes them completely, as well as my shoes and socks. He runs the towel over me as he crouches between my legs, his eyes finally connecting with mine when he gets to my pussy.
My heart pumps wildly, but it’s no longer because of the workout. It’s for him. All for him.
And when he pushes my legs apart, stretching me as much as he can, I feel the heat rise inside of me. I’m exposed for him, completely at his mercy, and so fucking turned on.
He holds my stare for a beat before he breaks it and buries his face in my wetness. Yeah, I’m already wet for him, and I will make no apologies for that. I’ve never gotten wet just from looking at a guy before, but for him, my body just responds without me telling it to.
He licks up and down before burying his tongue inside of me. I drop my head back, my eyes rolling when his finger replaces his tongue and then his mouth is back on my clit.
I move my hand to my breast, pinching my nipple, feeling his free hand come over mine, urging me to pinch harder.
I groan out loud, and he adds another finger to the one already moving in and out of me. He stretches me, sucking my clit, setting every nerve-ending alight.
“Fuck,” I shout as he moves his tongue in circles, and I drop back against the ropes that go around the perimeter of the ring, my one arm no longer able to support me.
I feel my body start to tremble as I barrel towards my release. Dear God, what this man can do with his mouth is a pure gift.
And just when he is working me into a frenzy, he removes his mouth and fingers, quickly replacing them with his cock. He drives into me, and I scream out, my fingers looking for something to hold onto and finding the ropes that I lean against. I grip on tightly as he hits my core, sending me higher and higher. And when he brings his thumb to my clit and his mouth to my nipple, I fall so fucking hard.
My walls clench around him as I call out his name.
My body shakes as he swallows my cries with his mouth, his fingers returning to my nipple and pinching deliciously.
I hungrily devour him, needing more. I always need more. I’m becoming so fucking needy for him it’s ridiculous.
I squeeze his cock harder, my walls clamping around him, and he roars into my mouth, but I don’t let him break away as I move my arms around his neck and hold him tight. I take great fucking pleasure in making him come hard. It’s a beautiful thing.
The music still plays around us as we pant and try to regain our breath––and the use of my limbs for me.
I move my lips to his ear and feel so overcome with emotion. “I love you,” I whisper, and he holds me closer, his cock still inside of me.
I never want us to lose this feeling.
The want, the desire, the lust.
And I also never want us to lose the love that is between us.
The power, the ferocity, the feral way in which we need each other.
It’s our type of love. It’s stunning, delicious, and dangerous.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Loving a dangerous man has more perks than cons, even if it did take me a while to see it.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
