When She Falls (The Fallen, #3)(91)

A tremor rolls down my spine. Her nails drag down my biceps, and I make a shallow thrust.

Fuck.

The sheer restraint needed not to immediately come makes sweat roll down my back. I suck on her neck, kiss along her jaw, claim her lips in a searing kiss.

When I manage to gather myself, I sit up and throw her legs over my shoulders.

The view is unbelievable.

Her swollen pussy swallows every inch of me, and I’m fucking mesmerized.

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.





CHAPTER 30





GEMMA


Our first few days 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.

“What’s wrong? You don’t like it?”

“Are you kidding? This looks amazing.”

“What is it then?”

I lick the sauce off my bottom lip. “I would never be allowed to eat more than a tiny bit of this back home.”

“What do you mean?”

“Mamma has this thing with food. She’s always been concerned about my weight. I was a little chubby in my early teens, and it drove her crazy. She wanted me to be thin.”

He leans back in his chair, his eyes narrowed. “She controlled your eating a lot?”

“It came in waves, depending on her mood. She could go months without saying anything, but then we’d go shopping or out for lunch with her friends, and something would just switch on. She’d monitor everything I ate for a while afterward. Then the cycle would repeat. At some point, I just learned to monitor myself, I guess. It was easier than anxiously waiting for her to snap at me.”

Ras’s brows furrow. “I remember how she talked to you when you were in Ibiza. As soon as lunch ended, I went to the kitchen, got those rolls you wanted, and dropped them off at the guest house.”

My eyes widen. “That was you?”

He gives me a crooked smile and nudges my chin with his finger. “I wanted you to know that there was at least one person who thought she was being ridiculous.”

Warmth spills inside my chest. Back then, I’d been so wrong about him.

Ras stands up, walks over to me, and squats down by my chair. His gaze pierces right through me. “Peaches, you are in no way lacking. There isn’t a single thing I’d change about you. And anyone who’s ever told you otherwise is either an idiot or the type of person who has to put others down in order to feel better about themselves.” He lifts his knuckle to my chin. “Erase their words from your mind.”

A strange emotion comes over me, something soft and vulnerable and weepy.

He pulls me into his arms. I let my head fall against his chest, my eyes growing wet. We stay like that for a while, holding each other.