Page 43 of Illusionist
She nods frantically, one of her hands covering mine on her throat, the other reaching back to grip my hip. I snake my free hand down to circle her clit, matching the rhythm of my thrusts.
“That's it.” I bite down on the junction of her neck and shoulder. “Let go for me.”
She shatters with a broken cry, her pussy clenching around me in waves. I fuck her through it, drawing out her pleasure until she’s shaking in my arms.
“Can't—I can't stand?—”
I pull out carefully, turning her to face me. Her legs do look unsteady, so I sit on the couch, pulling her into my lap. She sinks down on my cock with a whimper, her forehead dropping to my shoulder.
“Too sensitive?” I palm her ass, helping support her weight.
“No.” She lifts her head, and there are tears in her eyes—but she's smiling. “Just... intense.”
I kiss her slow and deep, tasting myself on her tongue. When we break apart, she starts to move, rolling her hips in a way that has me seeing stars.
“Fuck, just like that.” My head falls back against the couch. “Ride me just like that.”
She braces her hands on my shoulders, setting a slower pace than before but no less devastating. I watch where we're joined, mesmerized by the sight of my cock disappearing inside her.
“You feel so good.” She’s babbling now, lost in sensation. “So deep. Can feel you everywhere.”
“Yeah?” I thrust up to meet her, and she cries out. “This pussy was made for my cock. Taking me so well.”
Her movements grow erratic, and I can tell she's close again. I'm not far behind, my balls drawing up, that familiar pressure building.
“One more.” I find her clit again, rubbing circles. “Give me one more.”
“I can't?—”
“You can.” I capture her mouth, swallowing her protests. “Come for me, Nova. Let me feel it.”
She breaks with a sob, her whole body locking up as her orgasm crashes through her. The feeling of her coming aroundme is too much. I bury myself deep and follow her over, pumping into her as I empty myself inside her.
We stay like that for long moments, both panting, sweat cooling on our skin. I can feel her heartbeat rapidly beating against my chest.
She lifts her head finally, and there's wonder in her eyes. “Holy shit.”
I brush damp hair back from her face. “Agreed.”
She shifts, and we both hiss as I slip out of her. I help her stand on shaky legs, then pull her back down to sprawl across the couch with me. She fits against my side perfectly, her head on my chest.
“I meant what I said.” My voice is quiet in the aftermath. “I won't hurt you.”
She's silent for so long I think she might have fallen asleep. Then, soft as breath: “I'm starting to believe you.”
It's not complete trust. Not yet. But it's a beginning, and right now, with her warm and pliant in my arms, that's enough.
15
NOVA
The first thing I notice when consciousness filters back is warmth. Solid, steady warmth pressed against my back, an arm draped over my waist like an anchor. I'm in Silas's bed. In his arms. And for the first time in my adult life, I don't feel the immediate need to bolt for the door.
The realization should terrify me. Should send me scrambling for my clothes and whatever shreds of self-preservation I have left. Instead, I find myself sinking deeper into his embrace, marveling at how different this feels from every other morning after in my memory.
I turn slowly in his arms, not wanting to wake him, needing to see his face in the pale morning light filtering through the trailer's small windows. Sleep has softened his sharp edges, made him look younger somehow. Less predator, more man. His dark lashes fan across his cheekbones, and his mouth—that wicked, clever mouth that said such filthy things to me last night—is relaxed in slumber.
Something painful unfurls in my chest as I study him. This man who sees too much, who asks all the wrong questions, who somehow makes me feel safe even as he strips awayevery defense I've spent years building…. This man promised to protect me from Roman.
