Page 57 of Slaughter
My orgasm built slowly, a wave gathering strength, and when it finally crashed over me, I clenched around him, my body pulsing with pleasure. He groaned at the sensation, his movements becoming less controlled, more desperate, and then he buried himself deep and followed me over the edge.
I felt the hot pulse of him emptying inside me, felt the way his body shuddered against mine, and something fierce and possessive bloomed in my chest.Mine, I thought.He is mine.
We barely caught our breath before I felt him hardening again, his cock pressing insistently against my hip. The realization that he wanted me again so soon sent a fresh wave of arousal through me, making me impossibly wet.
How is this possible?I wondered, dazed.How can I want him again already?But my body knew the answer. It had been starving for this, for him, for years without even realizing it. And now that I finally tasted what it meant to be his, I couldn’t get enough.
He pulled me beneath him, his weight pressing me into the mattress, and the second time was different. Desperate. Urgent. Like he couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t get deep enough, couldn’t claim me thoroughly enough. His hips drove into me hard and fast, each thrust punching the air from my lungs. I could hear the wet sounds of our bodies joining, the slap of skin against skin, and it made me wetter. The obscene sounds should have embarrassed me, but instead they turned me on even more, proof of how much I wanted him, how ready my body was for his.
“More,” I begged, as my nails dug into his shoulders hard enough to leave marks. “Chapman, please, more.”
“Say my name again,” he growled against my throat, his teeth scraping over my pulse point hard enough to make me gasp.
“Chapman,” I gasped, my voice breaking. “Chapman, please.”
“Please, what, baby? Tell me what you need.”
“Don’t stop. God, please don’t stop. Harder. I need—I need.”
And he gave me exactly what I needed. He took me over and over, his cock filling me so completely I thought I might shatter. I felt him throbbing inside me, felt the way my body gripped him with every thrust, and the sensation was almost too much. My breasts bounced with the force of his movements as he leaned down to capture one nipple in his mouth, sucking hard enough to make me cry out.
The dual sensation, his cock pounding into me and his mouth on my breast, pushed me over the edge. I came with his name on my lips, my body clenching around him so tightly he cursed. The orgasm ripped through me, making my thighs shake and my vision blur, pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. He followed me over the edge with a guttural groan that vibrated through my chest, and I felt the hot pulse of him emptying inside me again.
He’s marking me, I realized through the haze of pleasure.Claiming me from the inside out. Making me his in a way that can never be undone.And God help me, I wanted it. I wanted to be marked, wanted to be claimed, wanted to be possessed. Wanted to belong to him so completely that nothing could ever tear us apart. Even though I knew, even then, that morning would come. That Shadow would find out. That this stolen night would have consequences neither of us could escape.
But I didn’t care. In that moment, with Chapman’s weight pressing me into the mattress and his cum hot inside me, I didn’t care about anything except the feel of him, the taste of him, the overwhelming rightness of being his.
We collapsed together, our breathing ragged, our bodies slick with sweat. I felt his heart pounding against my back as he pulled me close, his arm wrapped around my waist, his face buried in my hair.
“I love you,” he whispered into the darkness, and I believed him.
Because I felt it in every touch, every kiss, every desperate thrust. He loved me. Not Julie’s ghost. Not some replacement for what he lost. He lovedme—Hope Owens, homeopathic entrepreneur, waitress, sister. A woman who had been waiting her whole life for something I couldn’t name. And God help me, I loved him too.
This is what I’ve been waiting for, I thought as sleep tried to pull me under.This is who I’ve been waiting for.But we barely dozed before his hands found me again. Even in sleep, he reached for me, his fingers tracing the curve of my hip, the soft skin of my inner thigh, cupping my breasts possessively. And I arched into his touch, wanting him even when I was too exhausted to move.
When I felt his cock hardening against my ass, thick and insistent, I pressed back against him, silently inviting him to take me again. My body was sore, tender from hours of lovemaking, but the ache only made me want him more.
I’m insatiable, I realized with a mixture of wonder and embarrassment.I can’t get enough of him.
He groaned, half-asleep, and slid inside me from behind. The angle was different, deeper, more intimate, and I gasped at the sensation. He filled me completely, stretching me in ways that made my toes curl.
“Can you feel me?” he murmured against my shoulder, his voice rough with sleep and desire. “Feel how deep I am?”
I did. God, I did. I could feel every inch of him, could feel the way my body stretched to accommodate him, and it made me impossibly wet despite the soreness. He moved with languid strokes, in no hurry, just savoring the feel of being inside me. His hand came around to rest on my lower belly and pressed down gently. The pressure made me feel him even more intensely. Iwhimpered, overwhelmed by the sensation, and he kissed my shoulder, my neck, the sensitive spot behind my ear. “That’s it, baby,” he murmured. “Feel me. Feel what you do to me.”
The lazy rhythm was hypnotic, pleasure building slowly like a tide coming in. I felt myself drifting in the sensation, caught between sleep and waking, between exhaustion and desperate need. His breath was hot against my neck, his body warm and solid behind me, and I felt safe in a way I had never experienced before.
This is what it means to be cherished, I thought as pleasure spiraled through me.This is what it means to be loved.When I came, it was gentle. A slow wave that rolled through me, making me clench around him. He groaned, his hips jerking against mine, and then he followed me over the edge, his release hot inside me.
We stayed like that, connected, his softening cock still inside me, his arm wrapped around my waist. I felt his heartbeat against my back, felt the rise and fall of his chest, and I knew I would remember this moment for the rest of my life.
No matter what happens tomorrow, I thought.No matter what Shadow does or what the club demands, I will always have this. I will always have tonight.
The fourth time was slow again. Tender. The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting everything in soft gray tones, when he rolled me onto my back and settled between my thighs. His eyes locked on mine as he pushed inside, and I saw everything in his expression. His love, his desire, his possession, and something that looked like desperation. As though he wastrying to memorize me, to imprint this moment on his soul before it was ripped away.
He knows, I realized.He knows this is borrowed time. That morning will destroy everything.But he didn’t look away. Didn’t close his eyes or bury his face in my neck. He held my gaze as he moved inside me, his cock sliding in and out with a wet sound that should have embarrassed me but only made me hotter.
I was so swollen, so sensitive from hours of lovemaking, that every stroke felt almost too intense. The pleasure bordered on pain. My body pushed to its limits, but I didn’t want him to stop. Didn’t want this moment to end. “Look at me,” he commanded softly when my eyes started to flutter closed, overwhelmed by sensation.
