Throne of Truth (Truth and Lies Duet #2)(73)

I kissed her puffy sex-swollen lips not agreeing or disagreeing because as much as I hoped she was right...

I had no idea if it would come true.





Chapter Thirty-Three


Elle


THREE TIMES FOR almost three months.

The second was in the shower with tepid water and threadbare towels, but my two toe-curling orgasms shattered the record for all other showers, making it the best I’d ever had.

The third was lazy and sleepy, under the covers half-awake, half-dreaming, my back wedged to Penn’s front, his cock slipping between my legs and filling me effortlessly.

We’d fallen asleep with him still inside me.

And for the first time in years, I slept soundly in his arms. We didn’t have time to talk or share things we needed to know. We’d depleted ourselves by showing our love in physical form before the beauty of touch could be stolen from us.

Our bodies reacquainted, our hearts pattered to the same rhythm, our minds synced into one frequency.

At seven a.m., our wake-up call came in the form of a prison guard carrying a tray of scrambled eggs and over-cooked bacon with a cup of chocolate-covered strawberries.

To have breakfast served in bed in jail would forever remain one of the most random experiences of my life.

We stayed where we were. Unapologetic and tangled together beneath black sheets.

The utensils were plastic, the crockery had seen better days, and the strawberries were slightly over-ripe, but it was the best breakfast we’d ever had.

Who knew the Department of Corrections would forever hold a fond place in my heart as well as the most hated?

We didn’t dally over eating, our anxiety levels steadily increasing with every tick of the clock. Our twelve hours were almost over. I would be forced to leave. Penn would be forced to say goodbye.

Tears filled my eyes at the thought.

I couldn’t do it.

I didn’t have the capacity to walk away from him not knowing when we’d next be together.

“Elle, don’t.” His finger caught a tear, rubbing it into my cheeks as if it’d never existed. His fingers smelled of chocolate and berry, adding a flavor to the already familiar one associated with him. It reminded me of the night he brought chocolate mousse to my apartment and took me on the couch. It granted so many memories eternally tangled with him.

“You can’t.” His handsome face with soulful eyes and sharp jawline fractured with truth. “I won’t be able to say goodbye if you cry.”

Another tear escaped.

Tilting my chin, he licked it away then brought his mouth to mine.

We kissed long. We kissed slow. We kissed to last us however many months until the next time we could.

Pulling away, a mischievous smile spread his lips. “You know...we have time for one more.”

“Lucky number four, huh?”

I was sore. I was achy. I didn’t care in the slightest. I’d keep going forever if it meant I could keep him with me and not hand him back to the guards.

He nodded, springing from the bed and yanking me into a kneeling position. “I think four is a good number, don’t you?” Grabbing me around the waist, he hoisted me from the mattress and planted me against the wall.

The cold concrete bit into my bare ass, but I didn’t care at all as his lips found mine again and kissed me hungrily, violently—as if he could eat me for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and I’d never have to leave him.

His cock pressed against my belly, grinding into me with unashamed sensual insanity. His hands slid down my body, cupping my ass as he lifted me up and I automatically wrapped my legs around his hips.

Any second, a guard would come to remove me. Any moment, this would all be a dream. But I couldn’t think about that as Penn angled himself and sank inside me, inch by devouring, delightful inch.

One hand remained on my hip as he sank all the way inside, rocking harder when he filled me as if he could climb deeper. His other hand crept to my breast, tweaking my sore nipple from a nighttime of pleasure, then fisted my hair to hold my head exactly the way he wanted. He consumed my mouth with his. His hunger palatable—washing off him with droplets of needs.

The unabashed way he desired me made the upcoming separation so incredibly painful.

We’d wasted so much time when we could’ve been together. We’d lied and ruined, and who knew what the future held.

Now, we were together and committed, but we weren’t permitted the freedom to consummate, grow, and find a home in this new relationship.

How cruel. How unfair. How unjust.

His thoughts must’ve been where mine were because he kissed me desperately. He kissed me savagely. We kissed as if we were starving. Our tongues fought, our teeth nipped, we became drunk on fucking with our bodies and our lips.

He pounded into me, slamming me repeatedly against the wall. There was nothing gentle. Nothing kind about the slapping of our skin against skin.

But my body ached and slicked, welcoming him to take me harder, faster.

His teeth captured my ear, breathing hard. “Fuck, I love you. I love fucking you. I’ll never stop.”

I trembled, undone by the circle of his hips and the frantic way we clawed at each other.

The ferocity unbound me. The fury at not being allowed to be together made us rebels in our desire to consume each other.

Perhaps, we did want to hurt each other. Perhaps, that was what our love was—forever tangled up with hate from past misconceptions. But God, it made for hot sex.