Page 139 of When She Falls (The Fallen)
Utterly obsessed.
“This is mine,” I growl, my pace picking up. “All fucking mine.”
She whimpers.
I squeeze her thigh. “Say it.”
“It’s yours,” she gasps.
When I alter the angle, I get treated to seeing her eyes roll to the back of her head. “Oh God. Ras, I’m going to come again.”
“Good. Come all over my cock, Peaches. Let me see it.”
She fists the sheets, and her small body trembles all over. I reach over to tweak her left nipple. Her face twists into a perfect mask of agony and ecstasy before she makes a sob and squeezes around my cock. Hard.
“That’s it,” I say through my teeth, feeling her contract around me again and again.
My own release comes like a faraway roar, rising and rising until it’s all I can hear. My balls tighten. The pleasure is so intense, I’m gasping for breath.
She reaches for me, taking my hand and holding it tightly, as if she knows she’s the only thing anchoring me in place.
Our eyes meet, and I see the universe inside of hers.
Outside, the wind stirs and makes the olive trees sway. The leaves rustle, their whispers streaming through the open window.
You love her, they say.
CHAPTER30
GEMMA
Our first fewdays in Heraklion are a kaleidoscope of sunshine, lazy hours by the pool, slow dinners on the patio, and Ras’s skin against mine.
We have sex on every surface imaginable. Each time, I think it can’t get any better than this, only for him to prove me wrong.
He soaks me up. Learns every minute reaction of my body when he touches me just so. Becomes a master at making me see stars.
And I consume him in equal amounts.
He fascinates me, and that fascination grows with every hour we spend together.
His body is a work of art that I spend countless hours studying. My fingertips trace over every ridge and valley of his muscles. My throat becomes very familiar with his thick cock.
He tells me about his tattoos. Shares the story behind every scar.
A lot are from Nunzio.
My blood runs cold every time I think of that man.
I think he’s the first person I genuinely want dead.
We talk about everything. Ras tells me about his parents, and how they spent his teenage years trying to make him into someone he’s not. I think he’s brave for never caving to that pressure, but he tells me it wasn’t so much bravery as stubbornness.
One evening, he makes me a meal that makes my mouth water. Pasta carbonara, braised artichokes with tomato and mint, and a rich tiramisu for dessert.
He laughs when he sees the size of my portion. “Peaches, we’ve barely eaten all day. Tell me you’re having more than that.”
An uncomfortable feeling spreads through my chest. I put more food on my plate, but he notices something off in my expression.
