Page 210 of Forged in the Fire
His chuckle was almost mean. “You really want to destroy me, Brinley? You want to own me completely and then walk out of here without looking back?”
“Maybe I don’t want to walk.” It gushed out, entirely without my permission. But I guess that’s what truths normally did.
Silas squeezed my jaw tighter, the plunges of his fingers escalating.
I squirmed and moaned as I rocked back to meet him.
Punishment.
Blissful torture.
“I would never do that to you. You don’t deserve this life,” he growled.
But there was longing in it. I knew it. I could feel it just as sure as I knew he was mad about it. I should be mad about it, too. That I’d even let that thought invade.
Staying.
I barely knew him, yet somehow, I did. Somehow I saw straight through him the way he did me.
The hand at my throat raked down my chest, grabbing hold of a breast as he went, thumb scraping over the sensitive peak before he dragged lower and shoved his hand down the front of my underwear.
A landslide.
An earthquake.
My entire body quaked as he began rubbing my clit as he drove his other fingers into me from behind.
My toes barely touched the floor, and he rocked his hard cock against my bottom with each stroke.
Grunts and huffs wheezed from me, the same as they were puffing from Silas who seemed every bit as desperate as me.
And I wanted it. To surrender it all. My heart getting dragged in a direction that I knew so much better than to allow it to go. But there was something about Silas Mercer that persuaded and coaxed. My spirit stretching out to meet with the ferocity of his.
Twining and twisting in its petition.
Pleasure gathered with it. Tendrils that lapped and whipped and stirred.
Higher and higher with every masterful manipulation of his fingers.
“I feel it, Brinley. I feel you getting ready to blow. Give it to me. I want to feel you come on my fingers. Want to know that I’m the one giving you the pleasure that you can’t get anywhere else.”
His words were grunted in my ear as he swirled and drove his fingers.
Bliss cracked through the middle of me. Fractures that blistered and blew, striking in every secret recess that I possessed.
Ecstasy hurtled out of me on a cry.
So loud it crashed against the walls, an echo of yielding that reverberated back. Tremors boomeranged through my body as I soared and spun, his name a moan of confusion and desperation. “Silas. Silas.”
“That’s right, Little Wildfire. You feel it? What only I can give to you?”
I didn’t know which one of us the taunt was intended for because possession ground through his voice as he led me through every flicker and twitch of pleasure.
“I feel it. Do you feel it? Do you feel it, King?” It was an appeal.
Because God, I didn’t want to be in this thing alone.
I wanted to belong. To have someone fighting for me as hard as I fought for myself.
