32. Everest

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Everest

We stumble our way into the penthouse, blindly fumbling for our clothes as our lips stay fused together. We’re both wet and sticky from the Miami humidity, flushed and panting against each other.

“Here, baby, jump,” Rhys mumbles across my mouth, anchoring his hands under my ass.

I jump and wrap my legs around his waist. He catches me easily and my blood heats as he starts to carry me up the stairs. “Fuck, you’re strong.”

Chuckling, he squeezes and spreads my ass. “I’ll carry you anywhere.”

“And you say you’re not dick-whipped— Ah!”

I bounce on the mattress when Rhys chucks me on the bed. He grabs the hem of his shirt, peeling it over his head with a devilish smirk. “Stop being a brat.”

“You like me bratty,” I tease, rising onto my knees to slip off my pants. “What? You going to spank me?”

He lunges for me once my pants are off. Claiming my lips in a brutal kiss, he rushes through shedding the rest of our clothes. Once it’s just bare skin against bare skin, I lose myself in him. Every bratty thought or witty comeback flies right out of my head, all my attention now focused on the way our hard cocks grind together and how his rough hands map every inch of my body, like he’s trying to memorize me.

“Gonna take you bare,” he growls, nipping at my bottom lip as he reaches for the lube. “You’re gonna feel all my cum dripping out of that tight ass when I’m done with you.”

I thank all the gods that we got tested together. I don’t think I’d be able to accept anything other than feeling him fill me completely. I nod dumbly, wrapping my arms around his neck to pull him back down to my lips. Gasping lightly, my mouth parts against his when I feel a slick finger enter me. “Rhys…”

“You’re so soft,” he praises, twirling his finger, searching for the magic spot. “So perfect for me, Ev. The way you make me feel…”

“Get inside me.” Arching my back when another wet finger slips in, I groan, “Please.”

“Why the rush?” he taunts, then crooks his fingers in a way that makes my eyes roll to the back of my head. “I’ll fuck you on my own time. If this is how I want it, this is how it’s going to be.”

I want so badly to argue with him, but my mind is blank. The way his fingers are curling inside me, the divots his other hand is leaving on my hip, the rough scrape of his stubble against my cheek. It’s making me cave to his wishes and how he’s playing with my body when I otherwise would have taken the reins. He tortures me, whispering filthy praises as he wraps a loose hand around my cock. It’s too much and too little pressure, like I’m just there. Close enough to feel the trembles starting to vibrate through me, but not enough to actually fall apart.

“Come,” he whispers in my ear. When I whimper, he groans, cursing under his breath. “I want to fuck your cum inside you. Do it for me, baby.”

“I— fuck —I can’t,” I whine, silently pleading with him to grip me tighter, finger-fuck me harder, anything. “Need your cock.”

He shakes his head. “Not until you come.”

“Do I have to take it myself?” I growl, squirming as I hover right above my orgasm.

“Oh. So you want to fight me?” he asks, his face coated in amusement. Leaning down, he bites hard on my bottom lip. “Just try it, Ev.”

With his permission, I surge forward and tackle him. Rhys is strong, but I’m bigger and bulkier. Strength is my advantage as we roll around the bed, wrestling for dominance. I pin him down, but when I try to slide onto him, he bucks me off.

Back and forth, we fight. Our grunts and groans turn into a sinfully lustful symphony. Finally, I can’t take it anymore, and I cry out. “Rhys, please, I need you.”

He gets me onto my back. Instead of a playful grin, he wears a look of sweet affection that takes my breath away.

“You need me?” he asks, grazing his knuckles down my cheek. “You have me, Ev. I’ll give you everything you need.”

Then he slides his cock inside me, one glorious inch at a time.

“So perfect.”

Another inch.

“So special.”

One more.

“And all. Fucking. Mine .”

As he bottoms out, we both sigh in tandem. He drops his forehead on my shoulder, giving me small butterfly kisses that sizzle my skin and take away from the burn of being stretched. Slowly sliding in and out, he holds himself just at the tip before starting the cycle all over again. He’s taking care of my body in a way he hasn’t before, with such gentleness that makes me want to bury myself in him and never leave.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he demands, but it isn’t harsh or laced with roughness. It’s filled with heady desperation. “Ev…”

“I’m yours, Rhys,” I promise, threading my fingers through the hair on the back of his head so I can pull him up to meet my eyes. “I’ve always wanted to be yours. I’ll always want to be yours.”

Shuddering, he rolls his hips. “Baby, I’ll never hurt you again. I promise.”

“I know,” I whisper, fighting against the mistiness in my eyes. “Show me you mean it.”

He nods as he drops a chaste kiss on my lips. His hands flex on the back of my thighs as he moves my legs where he wants them. “Hold on to me. Don’t let go.”

I don’t think I’ll ever let go.

Not when I wrap my arms around his neck and lock my legs around his waist. Not when he fucks me—languidly, tenderly—like we have all the time in the world. Not even when we’re done and sated. I’ll keep holding on because what started as hero worship when I was young, to hate in the last two months, has turned into something I don’t want to live without.

“I’m so yours,” I mutter into his ear, rewarded when a choked sound leaves him, and his thrusts become sharper. “Yours to fuck. Yours to own. Yours to use however you want.”

“Fuck,” he rasps, snapping his hips, tunneling that maddening cock inside me. “Gonna come.”

I take my dick in my hand and stroke myself in time with his thrusts. “Fill me up, Rhys. Mark me. Take me. Claim me.”

“I’ll fucking claim you,” he growls. Growing erratic and choppy, his sweat slicked chest rubs against mine. “Because there’s never going to be anybody for you but me.”

The gravity of his words doesn’t sink in as I feel his cum fill me. It’s a foreign sensation—hot—like molten lava trickling down a volcano. I come alongside him and cry out his name through a sob that he catches with his lips.

“Shhh,” he mumbles, stroking my twitching sides as the intensity of all my emotions overcomes me. “Just let it happen, baby. Feel me. Feel me dripping out of you.”

“So good,” I slur, then rise on my elbows when he disentangles himself. I reach for him, reluctant and petulant as he slides out. “Rhys?”

“Just want to see,” he says, pushing my legs up and back until my knees hit my chest. His hiss is low as he spreads my cheeks. “Look at you, all puffy and swollen. Your poor little hole must be sore.” Kissing one of my cheeks, he kneads the other. “Don’t worry. I’ll make it better.”

I’m just about to ask what he means, but then he dives down and licks one long stripe up my crease. My mind becomes hazy with pleasure at the sloppy swipes of his tongue. He moans against me, the deep rumble shooting straight to my cock that’s trying to rally for a second round. I don’t realize that I doze off until he’s tucking me under the covers. He looks at me, just looks, an unreadable expression in his eyes. He’s tense, reluctant almost. After a long moment, he gulps. “Did you mean it?”

He doesn’t have to elaborate. In the heat of the moment, empty promises can be made. When you’re trapped in pleasure, things just come out.

But I meant it when I said I’m his. I’m tethered now, and I never want to experience a world without us in it.

“Every word,” I say, tugging him down so he’s lying on my chest.

We fall asleep like that, peacefully wrapped in each other. But still, in my dreams, there’s a nagging thought that haunts me.

That the beautiful bubble we’ve built around us is made of glass.