I tremble as pleasure knots inside me again. “Oh. God.”
Gripping the headboard, he picks up his pace, our skin slapping together in a wild, carnal cadence that’s visceral.
And his kiss is just as brutal. All tongue and sharp teeth as he ruts into me. Taking and using, but also giving and providing.
“Fuck.”
His hips strike mine ruthlessly, his thrusts a punishment and a reward.
A hoarse groan rips from his lips. “I feel you drip down my balls every time you take this fucking cock.”
I claw at his ass, moving with him, meeting his savage thrusts. “Good.”
He drags his lips along my throat, his hot breath gusting along my pulse point. I cry out when he nips my flesh. “If you want to come, you better beg for it.”
His hand slides between us, finding my clit. A shudder moves through me and I bite my lip, biting back a moan. “Make me.”
He withdraws almost completely before driving inside me again and again, the force of his thrusts pinning me to the mattress as those fingers strum me into oblivion.
I’m close. So close. He knows it too because there’s a smug smirk on his lips as he looks on with hooded eyes.
Surging into me, his mouth settles over my ear. “Beg to cream this cock.”
My body is strung tight, my lungs wrung out…but I beg so hard I’m sure poor Mrs. Palma next door can hear me.
Tension grows stronger, bigger, tighter until I have no choice but to let go.
I milk him, squeezing for dear life and digging my nails into his back so hard he grunts a string of curses.
I open my eyes in time to watch pleasure move across his face. His groan is guttural and his lips crash against mine as hot liquid floods me.
We kiss until our lips are swollen. Until we run out of air.
Phoenix was right. There was a whole lot of begging, but none of it was from him.
Because somehow, he knew exactly what I needed tonight, and he gave it to me.
“I love you,” he whispers against my lips.
My heart flutters like the wings of a hummingbird and I smile, a rush of emotion jamming my chest. “I love you, too.”
So much.
But the moment he slips out of me, the empty void—the grief ensnaring me—is back.
After Phoenix is fast asleep, I curl up into a ball and let the tears fall.
Because I know it will never go away.
CHAPTER 81
PHOENIX
Yesterday was rough.
Lennon stayed in bed and spent most of the day crying in my arms.
She’s scared the pain will never go away, and I gave her the cold, hard truth.
It won’t. Because she’s always going to miss her dad.
But it won’t always feel so raw like it does now. She just needs to give herself permission to start the healing process.
Fortunately, I think I figured out something that might help with that.
I’m pondering whether I should bring it up today when I look over on her side of the bed…and notice she’s not in it.
“Lennon?”
I don’t get a response.
Fearing the worst, I search through all the rooms before heading downstairs.
The muscles in my chest draw tight with relief—and surprise—when I find her in the kitchen, sipping coffee while pouring some cereal into a bowl.
I kiss the top of her head on my way to the fridge. “Hey.”
She gives me a small smile. “Hey.”
She ambles toward the kitchen table, but then she turns around, heading for the living room instead.
I want to get rid of that fucking table because I know every time Lennon sees it, she can’t help but think about her father.
However, she hasn’t reached that stage yet.
But she has an appetite again, and she’s eating, so it’s progress.
After fixing my own bowl of cereal, I join her on the couch in the living room.
I can tell she’s lost in her thoughts because her brows are pulled together and there’s a frown marring her face.
“What’s going on in that head of yours?”
She chews and swallows carefully before she speaks. “What if I forget his voice?”
“You won’t.” When she starts to protest, I say, “We live in the digital age. There are voice mails and videos. All that can be preserved, and you’ll be able to listen to it whenever you want.”
She visibly relaxes…and then she pales. “What if I get dementia like my dad and I forget him?”
After placing my bowl on the coffee table, I brush my thumb over her heart. “He’ll always be in there.”
She takes another bite of her cereal. “I hate not having him around.”