Page 90 of Fallen Rook

Enzo answered before the line even came to life. He inhaled. “You know, your obsession with me is adorable, Tomcat.”

“Shut up.”

“You just told me to speak to you.”

“I told you to stay with me. I’m perfectly content listening to you breathe.”

“Denial is not just a river in Egypt, my dude, and you’re drowning in it.”

As I floored it, I could see my grandmother peering through her bedroom window, cast in yellowish light, watching me running back to the city. She grinned like the cat that got the canary.

I raised her a slow middle finger and shook my head, laughing.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Enzo

Oh my God.

Oh. My. God.

I banged my forehead against the dining room table, my ass clenching around Tom’s two fingers.

“Please just ffffuuck me already.” Was I salivating onto the table? Sure was. My cheek was glued to the wood with the mess I’d created.

Tom and I never made it to bed when he walked in at nearly four in the morning.

I was glad we’d talked on the phone his entire drive here, because we were all caught up by the time he arrived. These were the first words I’d spoken since he walked through the door. The minute I let him in, it was all tongues, tangled limbs, roaming hands, and desperate moans.

The only reason we were at the dining table was because of the sheer force I used when I pounced on him, sending both of us across the open-plan kitchen.

“Baby, I have to do it right this time,” he crooned, thrusting his fingers in and out of me, lubricating my ass.

I had fantasized about this moment every second of every minute of every day for the past two weeks. My level of fixation with him had increased tenfold every day we weren’t in contact. The only reason I’d stopped myself from reaching out to him was the knowledge he would absolutely destroy my heart when he was done with me.

I still knew that to be true. But I could no longer resist my own ruination.

The truth was, I had forgiven him for our first time before I even walked out his door.

Now, with him going back to therapy, back on his meds, and quitting his drinking, I was confident he’d communicate his shit better. If not out of bed, then at least inside it.

It didn’t erase what happened, but it eased the humiliation to know that it ruined him as much as it did me.

“Three fingers,” he announced now in his commanding tone, and I felt myself stretching to accommodate more of him. I bent over, pushing my ass against his hand as the slurps of the lubricant filled the air. His grip on my hip tightened, and I could hear both our wild heartbeats through our ragged gasps.

My dick was so hard I could club someone to death with it.

He reached to cup it, leaning forward to roll his tongue up my sweaty spine and give me a soft bite on the shoulder. “You ready for me, beautiful?”

“What do you think, bitch?!” I was yelling, begging, pleading.

The asshole started to laugh, peppering achingly soft kisses along my shoulder. “Patience, kid.”

“I can’t do this anymore.” I slapped my palms over the table, heaving with anticipation. “I need you to—”

He finally slid his gorgeous, lubricated dick into me, and that shut me up so good, because for a moment, all I could concentrate on was not coming all over the kitchen like a madman. Tom grabbed both my hips and started moving, slowly finding the rhythm that made me whimper the sluttiest, trashiest moans known in human octaves. My knees buckled, his dick was so good. Luckily, he was righting me and keeping me steady, or he’d probably fuck me through the floor.

Tom’s fingers found my hair, tugging me up so his mouth was on my neck as he kept pounding into me. His chest was so hard, his body so broad and muscular and…manly.