Page 87 of Pas de Trois
His voice is quiet and steady. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
The air is sucked out of my lungs.
I see the rawness and truth in his gaze. My skin tingles at his honesty, knowing that loving me means being a part of this hell. For the years of abuse and pain and torment I’ve suffered, his pure, unconditional love for me still strikes me every single time. It’s a lightning bolt straight through my heart that shocks my senses.
He drops my hands, grabs my face, and kisses me hard, so hard that his fingers curl around the back of my head and dig into my skin, holding me in place as his lips bruise mine with force.
He holds me there in that aching kiss for beat after beat, drawing in a long breath through his nose—drawing me in and taking me from the world around us. My hands find his skin without conscious thought, my fingers curving around the sides of his waist. His skin is slick from the soap as it rinses down his body and my hands slip over it.
My intention was to care for him—to help him cleanse the way he cleansed me the night of our first kiss. He carried me to my room, put me in the shower, and cared for me after the first time Nikolai raped me with his involvement.
I still intend to care for Ezra, but I feel him coming back to life with our kiss and I want him to get lost in this.
We both need this.
I let my hands drift down his stomach and his abs clench at my touch. His lips part, he groans, and our tongues lash. His nails dig into my scalp and I feel completely consumed by him.
My fingers draw lower, gliding down his front, and easily find the base of his cock. I don’t care whether he gets hard. I don’t care whether he fucks me. I just feel some instinctive primal need to reclaim him as mine. I know it should be wrong to feel that way considering…well, everything.
But I feel it.
So, I wrap my hand around his girth and slowly stroke down. He jerks in my hold, slamming his right palm on the wall behind me and I hear the slap of it loudly against my ear. I pull back, breaking our kiss just so I can look at him. His eyes are half-hooded as he looks at me and I can see the spark of something bringing the light back to his eyes. I stroke again, my hand striking the match to ignite that flame and fuel his fire. I stroke him slow and long, running my thumb over the tip of his cock at the end, making him shiver.
He grows hard and thick in my hand and his arousal triggers mine. I let out a moan on my exhale and his eyes widen in need. He crowds me against the wall, and I stroke him a little faster, grip him a little tighter. We stay this way for minutes, minutes that pass as quickly as seconds, minutes that I wish would stretch on for hours.
His eyes drift shut when I know he’s getting close, when his cock is thrumming its own pulse in my grip and a groan rumbles deep in his chest.
“Ezra,” I moan to get his attention and when his eyes meet mine, I ask for him to let me reclaim him fully. “Mine?”
His chest rises and falls heavily as I keep stroking, keep dragging him closer to the edge. He bends, his forehead touching mine, his nose nuzzling the tip of mine. I stroke faster.
Just on the edge, his hips jerk forward, thrusting himself harder into my hand. With a gruff voice, raw and stripped bare, he replies, “Yours”
I feel his sincerity. I feel it in my heart, in my soul, in the palm of my hand. His cock swells and throbs in my grip and I gasp at the feel of him, at the look of ecstasy on his face, at the pulse of his soul giving strength to mine.
He cries out when he comes, spilling and dripping over my stomach. I smile, moaning at the feeling of power he gives me. It’s a power I can’t take from him—it’s something he gives me freely and it’s something I treasure.
Finally, he smiles, big and bright and entirely disarming.
“Ezra, I love you. No matter what.”
He slams me with a bewildering kiss and I’m lost in him.
