by Lee Piper
“Did you ever fight back?”
“Sometimes. Didn’t do shit until I was old enough to stand my ground. Even then, I found out he’d held back for most of my childhood. Wasn’t until I was older that he really unleashed on me.”
I swipe indignant tears away with agitated fingers. “Did your father get caught? Please tell me there’s some good to come out of this. Swear to God, I’ll hunt the fucker down right the hell now if he’s out in the world terrorizing some poor, innocent kid.”
Drake’s expression softens. “No need.” The tiniest hint of humor warms the shadows in his eyes. “Don’t get me wrong, I’d pay to see you kick his ass, but the asshole’s dead.”
Swallowing, I nod. “Oh.”
“He had a stroke and died on the way to work. Crashed his car into a fence. Was dead before impact.”
“Good.” I pause. “How old were you?”
The corner of his mouth twitches. “Eighteen. I didn’t need a legal guardian, so me and my sisters lived together for a while. After that, they moved on with their lives, and I moved on with mine. They’ve got families of their own now. They’re happy, and that makes me happy.” Glancing down at the mattress, his expression turns somber. “We survived.”
In one quick move, I straddle Drake’s hips. Turning his head to face me, I lean forward until our eyes and lips are level. “Damn fucking straight, you did.”
“And you will too.”
“I’m not there yet, ace.”
“No, but you will be.”
There’s something in his gaze I like. A certainty mixed with burning ownership that heats me from the inside out. It’s intense, possessive, and so freaking hot I shift in his lap, needing friction to ease the growing ache.
“Get your mouth over here,” he growls. “Now. You need to show me who you belong to.”
His words stroke the fire inside me, sending molten heat direct to my core. Slowly, oh so slowly, I roll my hips. “Couldn’t forget if I tried.”
“You tried.”
“I so did.” I grin. “Didn’t work though.” I bridge the tiny gap between us, brushing my lips against his. A spark of something I’ve never felt before burns the fabric of my heart. However, rather than tear it apart, it’s almost as though it’s patching it back together, one tattered piece at a time.
Drake cups my face. “I fought my way out of hell to find you.”
Emotion chokes me.
“And I’d do it again if it means we end up here. My hands on your body. Your mouth on mine. Us, as we’re meant to be.”
A lone tear trickles down my cheek, proving not only am I an emotional mess but I need this man more than my next breath.
He’s my oxygen. And I’m drowning.
Chapter Seventeen
I’m not sure if Drake notices my realization. I’m not sure if he can tell my heart is slowly patching itself together while wanting to tear itself apart. What I can be sure of, however, is the way his hand circles my waist while the other cups the nape of my neck. Oh, and the hard length pressing between my thighs. Can’t escape that.
“Come here.” He draws my mouth to his, growling when we touch. Without warning, his tongue thrusts inside. The kiss is so hungry and intense, I can barely keep up. It’s like he’s starving yet wants to savor every taste. A delicious contradiction. “Can’t get enough of you,” he mutters between hot, wet kisses. “Never enough.”
I know what he means.
As much as I wanted to stay away, as much as I was sure it would all go to shit if I gave in to this feeling, I’m glad I finally surrendered to it. At no other point in my life have I felt the need to be as close to someone as I do with Drake. What we have isn’t conventional. But then again, neither of us are conventional people. He’s a walking enigma while I’m a jaded paradox. So it makes sense, really. Our two broken halves make a disjointed whole. The picture it yields might not be perfect, but it’s the imperfection that makes it unique.
The hand in my hair tightens, sending tingles shimmying across my skin. The fingers grasping my hip slip lower until they cup my ass. He squeezes. Groans. Squeezes again. “Goddamn.”
In one quick movement, I’m flipped on my back and Drake settles his hips between my parted thighs. He wrenches my arms above my head until my hands are touching the headboard. “Hold on.”
I’ll try.
Fingertips deliberately skim the outside of my forearms and biceps. I squirm, needing to move, wanting to run my fingers through his hair, tease his lips with my touch, burn fingerprints on his skin—anything to prove he belongs to me. However, with my hands immobile, it’s impossible to act on these base instincts. Instead, I’m forced to endure the pleasurable torture of Drake doing whatever he wants with my body.
When his hands reach my breasts, I moan. Drake’s hips press down on my lower stomach. “No.” His voice is a low rumble. “Stop fighting me.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re wriggling.”
“Can’t help it.”
“Try.”
Goose bumps break out, causing shivers to tremor and quake. I swear, he’s turned me into a ball of live energy. There’s no possible way to contain the sparks and flares of light. I’m acting on pure instinct, damn it. There’s no way to control that shit.
“Can you feel this?” Drake growls low in my ear. “How your body sings for me?”
The featherlight stroke of his thumb brushes my sensitized nipples. I gasp.
“Sweetest fucking lyrics I’ve ever heard.”
I’m wet. So wet. Drake’s fingers tease the pebbled peaks, drawing them from behind the lace of my bra and the thin material of my T-shirt. I whimper as his thumb rhythmically brushes back and forth. Each swipe brings with it a barrage of heat direct to my core. “Ace, I need to move. I—”
Sharp teeth nip my breast. “No.”
Arching my back, I cry out to the roof overhead.
“You’ll stay where you are, and you’ll thank me for it.”
Jesus. The man is going to kill me. I guess, as far as deaths go, it’s a good one. Hell, since The Collector is going to cash in on his debt in two and a half days, I might as well give myself over to Drake’s commandeering ministrations and be done with it. With any luck, I’ll die in his arms midorgasm.
Drake’s palms blaze along my rib cage, leaving flaming trails behind. They come to rest on the flare of my hips, gripping tight. He’s going to leave a bruise. I’m okay with this. In fact, I bite my bottom lip and purposefully shift my lower body so he clamps down on my sides even harder. “Princess,” he warns, pinning me in place.
My laughter is low and husky.
“You’re gonna pay for that.” Slowly, his fingers slip beneath the material of my T-shirt, dragging the soft fabric up and over my stomach. Soft lips kiss below my navel. They tease my bellybutton. Nip the fleshy underside of my breast.
This is the best kind of torture.
As though he has all the time in the world, Drake leisurely lifts my shirt over my heaving breasts and then my head. The T-shirt is thrown over his shoulder and lands on the floor. I don’t know where, and he doesn’t care. The item of clothing is forgotten within seconds, a passing afterthought.
Crystal-blue eyes darken as they take in the black lace of my bra, the mounds of my flesh, and the valley between them. “Fuck.”
I grin.
“Your tits are the most luscious I’ve ever seen.” With a deep growl and a flick of the wrist, the clasp of my bra is undone. Lace slips from my body. The pulse at the base of Drake’s neck jumps. He mutters a curse that has my grin widening. I love the effect I have on him; it’s all kinds of hot. “Need to taste you. It’s been too long.”
“It’s been two days.”
“Exactly.” Ducking his head, Drake swirls his tongue around my nipple. I gasp, my back arching off the bed like a willing sacrifice. He coaxes my flesh with his mouth until the tender peak stands tall, desperate to get closer. His cheeks hollow with a powerful suck
before releasing me with a pop.
“More,” I beg, writhing beneath him. “I need more, ace.”
Without warning, he bites down. “Stay still.”
Lifting my head, I glare. “Are you crazy? There’s no way I can stay still while you’re doing that.”
With a smirk, he nibbles his way around the underside of my breast. The man’s going to leave bite marks everywhere. “Stop.” Nip. “Moving.”
I squirm, not even bothering to hide the fact that I’m essentially dancing lying down. “You’re asking the impossible.”
Drake lifts his head, his gaze landing on me. “I’ve seen what you can do. If anyone can do the impossible, you can.”
The world stills.
Hours pause. Minutes stop. Seconds cease.
Time no longer exists, or, if it does, is no longer measured in numerical increments. Instead, heartbeats gage passing moments. With eyes trained on each other, our pulses synchronize, drumming in tandem. Our breathing is heavy, like we’ve just emerged from the mosh pit at a gig. My hands flex against the headboard while Drake’s grip on me intensifies.
It’s official, the universe is reduced to us alone. Here, on this bed, is everything I’ll ever need. Drake is my light, my nourishment, my comfort. He’s everything I never wanted but everything I crave. And this moment is proof that we’re so intrinsically linked, connected on the most fundamental way, that it’s impossible to find where either of us begin.
“What did you say?” My whisper is so soft, it’s barely audible.
“You heard me.” It’s the way he says it; like it’s the God’s honest truth. Like, he can’t believe I haven’t figured it out already because he’s known all along.
Warmth envelops me, heating the coldest parts until my body thrums with heat. “Why do you keep doing that?”
“Doing what?”
“That thing where you make me feel like I can do anything. I mean, I know I can give anything a red-hot go. It’s just, when you say it, it makes the outcome possible. More real, you know?”
His lips caress mine. “I’ve got your back, princess. Might take you a while to get used to me being here, but I’m not leaving.”
I swallow. “Ever?”
“Not ever.”
When I remain silent, Drake lowers his head until his lips brush mine. With each rumbled promise, he caresses my mouth. “Thought I made it obvious in the car earlier.” He watches me as I watch him. My gaze darts between the brightest of eyes, not wanting to miss a word. “Remember when I said that you’re mine and I’m yours?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s a lifetime package deal.”
….
“We’re in this forever.”
….
“Understand?”
….
Full lips whisper against mine. “Breathe.”
I take a deep, shuddering breath.
“Good girl.”
Air fills my lungs as though for the first time. My ribs expand to the point of bursting, relishing the lifetime of promises it brings. With it comes a world of possibilities, of opportunities and experiences I never thought I’d have the chance to explore.
Shaking my head, I marvel at the man before me. My fingers trace his forehead, cheeks, jawline, and mouth. They memorize every feature, every rise and dip. It’s only when his face is tattooed in my memory that I let my hands fall to his chest. “Where did you come from?” My question is a whispered prayer of thanks.
Drake’s smile is sad. “Already told you: hell.”
“I’m so sorry.”
He nods. “I know.” Swallowing, he keeps his gaze trained on me. “And I’m sorry too. For what you’ve been through.”
Something wet tickles a path along my cheek. “I’m crying again, aren’t I?”
With a lopsided grin, Drake wipes away the tear. “Yeah.”
“Damn it. Could have sworn I reached my quota for today.”
“You’re only allowed to cry happy tears from now on. You hear me?”
I sniff.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Dropping his forehead to mine, he closes his eyes, murmuring, “We good?”
“Yeah, ace.” I run my fingers through his hair, loving the feel of the soft strands. “We’re good.”
“Thank fuck.”
And even though I’m not naïve enough to think we’re actually going to have a future, not with The Collector breathing down my neck, it’s nice to pretend, if only for a short while, what it would feel like having one with Drake.
Chapter Eighteen
With fevered movements, I pull Drake’s mouth to mine. “Kiss me.”
I don’t have to ask twice. On a ragged exhale, Drake takes ownership of my lips. We kiss until I see stars, the moon, the entire damn galaxy behind closed lids.
With frantic movements, he yanks open my jeans and peels them down my legs. When he spies the tiny lace thong in the same midnight black as my bra, he groans, shaking his head. “Killing me.”
I sit up, no longer able to keep my hands to myself, and rip his shirt over his head. As though it’s the bane of my existence, I hurl it across the room, wanting it gone. Similar to my T-shirt, I have no idea where it falls. I’m not in the headspace to care.
Drake’s jeans and boxers are next. Together, we remove them from his lean frame, and I ditch them in the vicinity of the shirt. Finally, he stands at the end of the bed. Naked. Completely fucking naked. Now that I pay attention to.
Oh. My. Polaris.
A fully clothed Drake is a sight to behold. It’s the way his muscles fill out T-shirts and jeans in all the right places. A sweaty Drake is even more mind-blowing. Especially when he’s pouring his broken soul into the microphone. But a naked Drake with eyes the color of burning coal? With pupils so dilated they take up the entirety of his irises?
No words.
Nothing does justice to the man in front of me.
Gaze pinned on me, Drake stands with his feet hip-width apart. His thighs are strong, the muscles roping his legs flexing as he fights to remain still. His waist is narrow, his abs tight, his chest broad. Strong shoulders, straight and toned, are evidence of the metaphorical weight he’s had to carry throughout his life. His arms hang loosely by his sides. Though, judging by the way his fists clench and unclench against his quads, his restraint is tightly coiled and on the brink of exploding.
Good. I want him to break. I want him to detonate and rain down catastrophe on my willing body.
“Keep looking at me like that and I’ll fuck your pussy into submission with my tongue. Then my fingers. Then my cock,” he growls.
Images of Drake’s mouth, wet with my release, flood through my mind. I shift on the bed, craving the friction the movement causes.
His cock, long, thick, and hard, jumps in response. The vein running the length of it begs to be licked, while the bell-shaped head beads with glistening precum.
My mouth waters. Darting my tongue out, I wet my lips, all the while picturing what I want to do with him.
“To hell with it.” Drake leans forward, grasps my ankles, and yanks. With a squeal, I’m thrown onto my back, my legs hanging off the end of the bed.
“Drake!”
“Unless you’re gonna follow up that statement with fuck me already, I don’t wanna hear it.” Leaning over me, his voice drops to a growl. “I’m this close,” he holds up a finger and thumb with less than a millimeter separating them, “to going all caveman on your sweet ass. I want to take this slow; I want to savor the way your taste will flood my tongue. I want to feel you come apart on my fingers before I fill you with my cock and fuck you to oblivion.”
I swallow. Loudly.
“But so help me, when you look at me like I’m your motherfucking world, I can’t control shit.”
“Don’t want you to,” I whisper, my thumb pressing against his bottom lip. When I remove it, I admire the indent left behind, loving the evidence that I was there.
“I’m warning you, this
won’t be the sweet ending to our fairy tale. Understand? The sun rises and sets with you, princess, no doubt about it. But that doesn’t mean I’m gonna go easy on you. What we’re about to do will be hot, dirty, and rough. Reckon you can handle that?”
“Never believed in fairy tales. And you know I can handle whatever you give me.”
He closes his eyes and mutters a curse before opening them again. Dropping to his knees, he grumbles, “Hold on, shit’s about to get real.” The man is deadly serious.
With less than a second to prepare myself, Drake opens the lips of my pussy and drags his tongue from my entrance to clit. In one fell swoop, he has my eyes rolling back, my spine arching off the bed, and my hands gripping the bedsheets. “Drake.”
Spurred on by my cry, he feasts. Drake alternates between licks, sucks, and nips as he spreads me wide and gorges on my body. When he thrusts a finger inside me, I moan. When he thrusts in a second, I gasp. When he teases my ass with a third, I lose my ever-loving mind. He conjures the most exquisite pleasure I’ve ever experienced.
A flash of lightning—quick, brilliant, and blinding—takes over. My body tries to prepare for it, but it’s futile. There’s nothing it can do against the unexpected storm. So, I surrender as wave upon wave of sensation wracks me from the inside out.
“Fuck. You’re clamping my fingers so tight. Want you to come all over me.” He bites down on my clit, lengthening the orgasm. “Come on my mouth and fingers.”
I scream. A lot.
Drake groans. “Never had a pussy so wet, so sweet. Goddamn.”
“Holy shit.” When the pleasure finally subsides, I slump against sweat-dampened sheets with an exhausted sigh.
Drake straightens from between my legs, his mouth glistening with my cum. “You taste better than I remember, and I’ve spent a lot of time remembering.” Dropping his head, he laps at my core, murmuring how much he loves my taste.