Page 19 of Relapse

I moan into his mouth before my pride can stop me, and immediately hate myself a little for how fast my body folds for him.

Pathetic behavior from me honestly.

His mouth drops to my throat next, biting hard enough to make my head tip back while his breathing turns heavier against my skin.

“Cocky little relapse,” he mutters roughly between kisses, voice thick with anger and something way more dangerous underneath it. “Walking around acting like you’re not fucking fiending for this the same way I am.”

Okay, rude.

Accurate unfortunately, but still rude.

Because sure, maybe I have thought about him more than once since the hospital.

Maybe I have replayed the memory of his hands, his mouth, the stretch of him inside me while lying awake in random beds trying not to lose my mind.

But every time I started missing them too much, I’d remember waking up alone. Remember them erasing every trace of themselves from my life like I was some bad trip they needed to clean up.

That part always burned hotter.

My nails scrape down his back when he yanks me flush against him again, the counter rattling hard enough to smack against the wall behind me.

And oh.

There it is.

The hard press of him through his jeans.

Pierced. Thick. Already throbbing against me like he’s losing control as fast as I am.

My stomach flips instantly.

Which feels medically unnecessary at this point.

I laugh breathlessly, getting mouthier as heat builds low in my belly.

"Oh please. You think I didn’t have other entertainment while I was gone? I mean you made me think you never existed, remember? Sorry, the supposed imagery dick was good but not good enough to relive in my head,"

My hands fist in his shirt, but I arch into his neck kisses, letting him feel how worked up I'm getting. He responds by grinding harder, one ringed hand sliding up to squeeze my ass while the other pins my thigh, spreading me wider.

The smell of smoke mixes with our sweat, the kitchen spinning in messy disarray around us.

He gets rougher after that, mouth dragging over my collarbone while his hands slide down my body with possessive impatience.

“Fuck, you drive me crazy,” he mutters against my skin, voice rough enough to make heat curl low in my stomach. “That mouth on you… goddamn, I missed every smart ass word.”

The praise hits embarrassingly hard.

Especially when paired with the feeling of him tugging my holographic panties aside just enough to make my breath catch.

My pulse jumps instantly when he frees himself, the metal of his piercings catching briefly beneath the kitchen lights while he strokes himself once, slow and deliberate like he knows exactly what seeing it does to me.

Cocky asshole.

Then he drags the tip between my thighs. Slow and teasing.

The cool metal brushes against me first, circling my entrance lazily while my entire body tenses in anticipation. Every tiny movement sends heat spiraling through me sharper and sharper until I’m gripping the edge of the counter hard enough my knuckles ache.

“Dagger—”