“You come like a fucking queen,” he whispers into my perspiring neck, awed, bouncing me once, twice, and hello—I’m back online. “My queen. Our queen.”
I lift my head just in time to receive his kiss, as if he’s anticipating my return to the living. I expect him to press me hard against the metal box and finish. Instead the world becomes a blur of color as he carefully settles my feet on the ground, spinning me around to face the opposite direction and growling. Slamming a fist down on the box and entering me roughly from behind.
“Yes.” He presses me forward with his body, moving my hands into the position he wants them. Braced, palms down. “Our queen, right?” He drives me up onto my toes and I cry out, seeing nothing in front of me. Nothing but sparks. “But you’re all mine right now.” He winds my hair around his fist and slowly, slowly draws my head back while his mouth drags up the center of my spine. “And I’m all yours. I’ve just been practicing for the day I met you, love.” He pulls my hair with a hint of more authority. “Now you’re going to press that ass into my stomach as high as you can and take advantage of it.”
“Yes, Tobias,” I whisper, shaken down to my toes.
He yanks up the back of my shirt and unsnaps my bra so quickly, it almost seems like a magic trick. Then his left hand is sliding between my body and the metal box, molding my breast in his hand, my hair still tugged back in his right. His slow pumps are divine in a way that defies description. He’s defiling me and worshipping me at the very same time, sinking so deep it almost hurts—almost—then whispering praise into my hair, thanking me, as he recedes.
“Lift a bit more,” he says hoarsely into the back of my neck. “I know where you need me…there. Feel that? Aw, the way you tightened up all the way to my balls says you do, love.”
My eyes roll into the back of my head as the ridge at the head of his sex grazes my clit again and we both sort of grow restless at the very same moment, my libido spinning madly in the wake of his crudely beautiful speech. He works his hips harder, faster, sawing wetly over that bundle of building tension until I’m pressing my moaning mouth into the bend of my elbow to keep from screaming.
But I lose the ability to muffle my pleasure when Tobias abruptly lets go of my hair, my breast, and acquires both of my wrists, locking them at the small of my back.
“Spread your legs.” He spits on my backside. Growls while slapping it sharply. “Time to put me out of my misery, you fucking temptation.”
I should punch him in the face for spitting on me. Except I love it. Except I’d have to stop receiving what he’s giving me, which is all-out hedonism. He’s bearing down on top of me now, his hips pumping in a frenzied way that says the end is near and I’m powerless to the lust. Powerless to do anything but raise my buttocks like he told me and take the raw and wonderful conquering of my body. The spiral he loosened inside me earlier begins to coil the other direction again, faster, faster and my legs shift and dance, knowing what’s coming.
“Please, please, please.” I flex my wrists but he holds tight. “Keep going.”
“Anything you say, love.” He’s breathless now. Wild. But in the eye of the storm, his voice has lost all trace of arrogance. All artifice. He’s just mine. He’s just ours. “Just don’t stop liking me, Elise. Just keep…I don’t want to lose that. This. I’ve never had this.”
Our fingers intertwine at the small of my back. “I won’t stop.”
On that promise, his stomach muscles flex and strain against my backside and he moans brokenly into my back, the excessive warmth increasing even more inside of me, his movements turning jagged, his hands letting go of my wrists to scramble down to my hips, yanking them back desperately for three final drives—and that roughness at that angle blows my second fuse, forcing a closed-mouth scream from deep in the recesses of my body, both of us straining over that near-painful clench of my body around his, before he falls forward onto me, gathering me close, so close, in the circle of his arms. “Elise. My God.”
A whistle blows somewhere in the distance and the crowd cheers.
I turn and collapse against him, our bodies swaying in a slow dance for several seconds, before we meet for a kiss. And when I see the look of completion, awe, understanding in his eyes, I somehow know they match my own.
What we’ve just done has snapped the circle together with a finality I can feel in my bones—and I’m pretty sure I no longer have a choice but to exist in the center of it, trusting hope to outweigh my fear. Hoping that against all odds, the circle stays intact.