Rough Edge (The Edge #1)(24)

“You’re going to take it.” I spit the words like a threat. “You’re going to take more of it than you ever took before.”

She swallowed. The tears dried up, but not the feelings that caused them. “It’s not that easy.”

“No, it won’t be. I promise you that.”



* * *



I didn’t touch her on the cab ride home. I liked watching her squirm. I liked seeing her body’s composure fail as I fucked her mind, leaning close to whisper in her ear.

“Look ahead, and don’t say a word. Keep your knees apart. The blood is rushing to your clit. Filling it. It’s hard. Feel the way your underwear is rubbing against it. When I fuck you, I’m going to be deep enough to push against it.”

I had a raging hard-on the whole way home. When we were alone in the foyer behind a locked door, she put her jacket on the hook. Her lips were parted and I’d bet my medical license she was wet.

I let go of everything. My defenses. My armor. My rage. My fear. When I reached for her, I didn’t hold her. I took the edges of the neck of her dress and pulled, tearing it open at the center seam.

She gasped. “Stop.”

I had to stop. I felt something then. Relief.

I could stop.

She stood with her hands on her breasts, holding the dress up. “What’s happening?”

“You wanted me to touch you. I’m going to touch you. I’m going to touch every inch of you. Just me, my dick, my mouth, you, your mouth, your ass, your tits. I’m leaving nothing on the table.”

“There’s no one else?” Her arms relaxed and the dress fell a little.

“No. Never.”

“Why do you get like this? Like tonight? Like a few weeks ago?”

“Because I need this.”

That wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth. I couldn’t think about the whole truth. Not with her torn dress and her pheromones invading my mind.

“Take it.”

She let her dress drop. Black lace bra. Garter. Stockings. A ribbon of underwear. She must have been expecting something tonight.

Oh, how the Thing screamed incoherently when it saw my intentions. How it quivered in fear and impotence.

I undid my belt.

“Nervous?” I asked, taking out my cock.

“A little.”

“If you say stop, I stop.”

She nodded.

I grabbed her, pressing her body to mine, mouthing her cheek, her lips, her throat, her ear. I nipped her shoulder but didn’t bite. Not yet. The Thing was there in the connection, but it was scared.

I pushed her to her knees.

“Open.” I squeezed her cheeks and put my dick in it, pushing deep past her gag reflex. “Come on. Take it.”

When I pushed again, she opened her throat.

The Thing wept, but wasn’t scared away. Not yet. Not when I fucked her face or grabbed a fistful of hair to guide her rhythm. Not when I came in her mouth and it dripped from the corner of her lips.

I helped her stand and kissed her hard, tasting bitter cum on her tongue. “Upstairs.”

I watched her go, gartered ass waving as she climbed. Alone for a second at the base of the stairs, I put my hand on the bannister to steady myself.

“You ready?” I whispered. “I’m going to fuck her so hard you disappear forever.”

For the second time, the ambient hush of its voice made words.

I’ll never leave her.

“We’ll see about that.”



* * *



She was sitting on the edge of the bed with her hands folded between her knees. The part of me that I’d let loose, the emotion and uncertainty, wanted to take her right there. But I didn’t. I had another piece, a cold, calculating piece. He was more methodical.

She watched me undress and put my clothes on the chair.

I stood in front of her, already erect as a fucking flagpole. “You’re the only one, Greyson.”

Her brown eyes were sad, open, honest. I couldn’t comfort her. Not now.

“You’re different sometimes.”

“I know.”

I pushed her down and jerked her legs open. I could smell her sweet pussy through the strip of underwear. I ripped them open. She tried to get up on her elbows, but I pushed down on her chest, leaning my weight on her as I put two fingers deep in her cunt.

“Get your knees up. Show me everything.”

She did it, and the Thing’s rage and sadness mixed with desire.

“You’re so fucking wet for it.” I rubbed her until my fingers were lubricated, then I stuck them in her ass.

The Thing ran from between the place we touched as if it was burned.

“Oh, God,” she cried.

We’d had anal sex before. Gentle, slow anal. I couldn’t guarantee this would be either.

I held her down and twisted my fingers deep inside her. “Beg for it.”

“Please, Caden. Fuck me. Please.”

“Where?”

“My pussy.”

I flipped her over and yanked her to the edge of the bed until her toes were on the floor. Then I wiped my fingers on the handkerchief she’d refused earlier.

I couldn’t believe what I was about to do.

No. I could. The Thing couldn’t.