Page 96 of Once Upon a Fable

Stop!

He gathered me closer, kissing me with violence and anarchy, war and famine.

I lost.

I kissed him back.

And.

That.

Was.

It.

The gun, the detonation, the very end of our existence.

We clawed at each other. We tried to crawlinsideone another.

Our fight switched from one age-old grievance to another. From fighting to fucking.

Rolling onto his back, he dragged me with him, splaying me over his stomach as his hands dropped from my hair, his nails raked along my back, and his fingers jerked the sweater over my head.

The rain soaked everything, making the material slap lifeless beside us. He fought with my T-shirt next, yanking it up and throwing it into the slick mud.

The moment my breasts were bare, he cupped them both. His fingers rolled my nipples, pinching me, electrifying the sick craziness in my blood.

My hands switched from trying to wring his cock from his body to jerking him with pleasure. I stroked him viciously.

His breath caught, and his hips pulsed into my palm. “Christ—”

He smashed his mouth to mine. Our kiss tasting of rain and earth, blood and sweat.

Another layer of propriety fell away.

My nails dug into his cock. His back bowed as his mouth opened wider over mine. His tongue was slick and savage. His assault brutish as he kissed me so damn hard. We rolled again, fighting for dominance, our vehemence toward one another adding a ferocity to whatever this was.

This wasn’t about forgiveness or apologies. This wasn’t about the pent-up connection or spine-snapping desire.

This was about fire.

Fire that burned in both of us.

Fire that had incinerated us from the inside out and wouldn’t stop until we were both cinders on the forest floor.

“I need you.” His voice resembled every shade of black in the night. “Fuck, I need you.”

Not a question.

A command.

A matching demand within me.

I didn’t think.

I clawed at his pants, shoving them down, allowing his blazing erection to pop free. It was swollen and red from my punishment. Crescent moon indents from my nails showed how much pain I’d given him.

He fell on me again, biting my throat, my jaw, my mouth. As his tongue hunted for mine, he rolled until I was pinned beneath him, his hands tearing at the fly of my borrowed, ruined slacks, ripping them off me as if they’d been doused in the very flames consuming us.