My cum leaks from her swollen pussy, wet and slick, and I watch it like a man possessed—because where Georgia's concerned, I am.
Without thinking, I scoop it up with two fingers, slick and glistening, and slide them right back inside her.
She gasps, full-body shivering. “Kade—what are you—”
“Shh,” I rasp, curling my fingers, watching her twitch as I smirk. “Told you, darlin’. I’ve got lots of bedrooms to fill.”
Georgia moans, back arching, thighs trembling around my wrist.
“I told you, I’m on birth control,” she breathes, voice shaking.
I pause… just for a second. I know she said that. Know it’s fast and stupid and reckless, but I can’t lie—disappointment slices through me like a hot blade. I school it down, shake it off, and lean close, licking her bottom lip as I grind my fingers deeper.
“Then we’re practicing.”
Her eyes go wide, breath catching hard.
I add a third finger, just to hear her whimper.
“You don’t get it yet,” I whisper against her lips. “I’m not just tryin’ to fuck you. I’m tryin’ to ruin you. Want you walkin’ around with me dripping out of you every single day. Want you so full of me, you don’t remember what it felt like to not be mine.”
She shudders violently, another moan tearing from her throat. “You’re gonna kill me.”
“Nah, baby. I’m gonna make you beg for more.”
And I do.
Until her body’s trembling, her voice gone hoarse from moaning my name. Until she’s spent and soaked, sticky with sweat and honey and every drop I’ve poured into her. Until there’s nothing left of her but blissed-out whimpers and the way she curls into me like I’m home.
By the time I pull the blankets around us, her lashes are fluttering shut, cheek pressed to my chest, breath warm and steady against my skin.
And as my eyes finally drift closed with Georgia wrapped in my arms, skin still humming from everything we just shared, only one thought cuts through the quiet.
If this is all I ever have…
If this is the only kind of peace I ever get from the demons still chasing me… It’ll be enough.
Chapter Thirty Seven
Trading Stars for Ashes and Tears
The first thing I notice is her.
Not the stars still falling from the sky or the bite of cool air brushing over my bare shoulders—buther. Georgia, warm and soft, curled up against me beneath the thick pile of blankets in the bed of my truck. One of her legs is tangled with mine, her face tucked under my chin, palm resting just above my heart.
It’s quiet as hell, except for our breathing.
So still that, for a second, I think I might be dreaming.
But then her fingers twitch against my chest, and I blink up at the sky, eyes adjusting to the streaks of light slicing through the dark. Shooting stars, dozens of them, maybe more, all at once. The meteor shower must be at its peak, which means it’s around two or three. We haven’t been asleep for long.
I pull her in closer, my heart thudding with something wild and full in my chest.
Peace.
It’s the only word I can think of.
Not the lazy, passive kind—but the bone-deep, soul-shattering kind that settles in when something fits so right, it stops feeling fleeting and starts feeling like home.
