Page 45 of Skye

“I can’t change who I am, Skye. I’m not always in control of myself.”

I piston my fingers inside her, enjoying the way she bends into me, as if her legs are weak. I add pressure to her clit with my thumb, wrenching a moan from her.

“I don’t want you to be,” she grinds out between her pants.

Skye’s wetness tells me I’m doing exactly what she needs, but I still feel the fear in my gut.

“I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to become him.”

She grabs my wrist, stopping me from finishing her. The concern in her eyes has my throat tightening. “You’re nothing like him. You would never torture a child. You would never harm someone innocent.”

Each sentence is a blow to my chest, and I want to believe she genuinely sees this much goodness in me. “You don’t know me, Skye.”

My fingers still inside her cunt, she rolls to her toes and presses a kiss to my mouth. “I know enough. Now, stop talking and fuck me.”

I don’t need to be asked twice. My body is all too eager to fulfil her demands. I pull my fingers free from her heat and turn her, pushing her against the wall behind us. I unbutton my jeans quickly and press my length into her slickness.

Skye’s head tilts back, her hair tickling my chest as she flattens her palms against the wall. That little bit of pushback forces me deeper inside her body, making us both gasp.

I splay my fingers on the wall above her head, my other hand gripping her leg and lifting it off the floor, so I can drive harder into her.

She feels amazing, her tight channel strangling my shaft as I make lazy strokes into her. This is nothing like last night. There’s desperation to have her, but there’s also a quietness in my mind I didn’t know I could find. I want to reach around her front and play with her tits, but I’m so close to coming, and from the pulsation of her walls around me, she is too, so I just keep the momentum of my thrusts going.

I don’t want to think about what happened last night, and I don’t want to dwell on the shit storm surrounding us. I just want to get lost in Skye and pretend for a moment that we’re a normal couple.

She bends over, her back almost flat as she sags down the wall. I let out a strangled gasp as it pushes her farther onto my cock.

“Oh, fuck. That’s it,” she urges, and my legs and hips burn as I slam into her over and over. “Don’t stop.”

I stare at her spine, bent over, exposed to me, and I have the urge to mark her there, to let the world know she’s mine.

I said a lot of shit last night in the heat of the moment, but that had been the truth. Skye Richardson is my woman, and I will kill anyone who tries to take her from me. I will tear Desmond Richardson apart with my bare hands if he so much as touches a hair on her head.

The possessiveness that engulfs me feels righteous and fills that hole where my anger lived. It doesn’t douse it completely, because I now feel something else, something equally terrifying.

Panic that she could be hurt or worse.

“Beau, keep going,” she urges, and I realise my strokes had slowed while I got lost in my thoughts.

I resume my pace, taking my hand off the wall so I can caress her back. This might have all been down to chance, but I do believe things happen the way they’re meant to. I was supposed to be in that bar that night. I was supposed to fuck Skye in that dirty room, because she was always destined to end up here, pressed against the wall, my cock buried in her heat.

Skye’s head dips so low, her chin must be touching her chest as comes. Her body sags even more, her spine rounding as her legs seem to lose traction. I grab her arms to keep her on her feet even as my balls tighten to painful levels before I find my release. I squeeze my eyes shut, the muscles in my throat cording as I spill inside her.

Sweat beads on my forehead and on the back of my neck as her contracting walls milk every last drop of cum from me. Fuck me, that was something else. Trying to calm my breathing, I slowly pull out of her body. I want to stay buried there, but her legs are going, and I don’t want her to hurt herself.

As soon as I’m free, I keep one hand locked around her bicep while I struggle to pull my jeans back up, tucking my cock away but not fastening them.

I make her stand straight and turn her around, pressing her back into the wall. Her hair sticks to her forehead, and her eyes are glassy as she tries to focus.

“I like you like this. Thoroughly fucked.” My mouth moves along her cheek and down her neck, layering kisses as I go while my fingers latch around her breast, kneading the soft flesh.

“You look just as thoroughly fucked,” she counters, tipping her head to the side so I can cover more of her throat.

I smirk at her sass and move to her mouth, pulling her bottom lip between my teeth before I slide my tongue inside. She kisses me back, her arms winding around my neck, molding her frame against mine. Everything about her seems so fragile, including the baby she’s carrying. It scares me how easily she could be harmed.

“You’re doing it again,” she murmurs between kisses.

“Doing what?”