Chapter 33

Chapter Thirty-Three

Kindra

I 'm still seeing God when I hear the sound of Ezra's belt buckle coming undone. Normally, I'm good to keep going after I come, but before tonight, I've never had someone make me come so hard that I was afraid my internal organs might shut down.

His zipper falls.

Shit.

I open my mouth to let him know that I need a minute, but he's already on me. When I look up into his face, it doesn't matter anyway. I forget what I wanted to say.

"Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are after you've come?" he asks, and my god, he could file nails with the rasp in his voice. "Because you are. You are absolutely stunning, pet."

His accent cloaks his words in silk, and I'm finding myself more amenable by the second. Maybe I can survive one more orgasm...

Needing no more encouragement, I reach between his legs and easily find the steel pylon that is his dick. A groan rumbles in his chest as my fingers encircle his girth. With a gentle tug, I guide him toward my entrance.

As he settles his head inside me, he sucks air through his teeth. "You're so wet and warm for me."

His praise sends a jolt of pleasure between my legs, and my pussy tightens around him. His hips jerk forward, pushing him deep inside me and creating a painful ache.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to your size," I say through a moan.

"And I'll never get used to how incredible you feel." He draws his hips back and glides inside me again, allowing me to experience every glorious inch.

He pulls out of me completely, and I feel so empty. I look up at him, begging for more, but he just smiles down at me before flipping me onto my stomach.

"Arch your back for me," he says, and I respond by poking my ass into the air. "Perfect, pet. Stay just like that."

Heat settles behind me, and his hand winds through my hair. With a tug, he raises my chest from the bed. I'm a bit tender headed, so pain zings through my scalp and causes my muscles to tense.

"Relax into it," he says as he enters me. "Just close your eyes and feel everything, but don't think."

I do as he says. I separate myself from the pain and pleasure and just float in my mind until everything crashes together. With each forward thrust of his hips, he snatches back on my hair, keeping me right where he wants me. His balls slap against me, and it's so weird to get more turned on by that, but here the fuck we are. I'm a sloppy mess between my legs.

And then I spot the toy.

Most men I've been with were too insecure to allow me to use it during sex. I would reach for it, and they would shoot it down, claiming their skills were far superior and I wouldn't need it.

They lied.

Ezra doesn't seem like the type to be so insecure, though, so I reach for the vibrator. His thrusts slow when he sees it in my grasp, and I worry my assumption was incorrect and he'll stop and tell me to put it away.

"I was hoping you'd make use of that," he grunts as he picks up the pace again. "Make yourself come on my cock."

Say less. I flick the button and press the toy against my clit.

Bright colors explode behind my eyelids as I try to hold back the tide. I don't want to come yet. I want to experience the ride to the top and the sudden drop, but my body has other ideas.

Ezra pounds into me, moving the toy with each driven push and making it dance over my throbbing clit. My fingers dig into the sheets, and I bury my face in the pillow as I let out a scream.

As my eyes are spinning like pinwheels, my thighs begin to quiver and turn to jelly. Waves of pleasure shoot through every muscle until I'm certain I've reached the crest of the hill, but it just keeps coming.

I just keep coming.

Ezra's hips stutter behind me, and he releases my hair to grasp my hips with both hands. "Fuck, you're going to make me come."

Turning my head to the side, I pull in a lungful of air as the orgasm finally releases its hold. "Fucking fill me," I whimper. "Please, I want you to come inside me."

"I didn't want to go this quickly," he says through clenched teeth.

"We have all night. And tomorrow night, if you're free."

He pauses, and his hands loosen their grip on my skin.

Did I say something wrong? Did I overstep? When he talked about seeing me outside of the retreat, was he just placating me so that he could keep sleeping with me?

His grip tightens again, and he pushes into me, sending my chest against the mattress. "For you, I'm free for the rest of my life."

As his hips hammer forward, I nearly lose consciousness. I've never been fucked with such ferocity and need. Now I understand why he likes thicker women. He needs all the cushioning he can get as he jackhammers my sore pussy.

Just as I'm about to cry uncle, he thrusts a final time as warmth floods me. When he's finished painting my insides, we both collapse in a breathless heap of legs, balls, arms, and boobs.

"You . . . are incredible," he pants against the nape of my neck.

Turning onto my side, I grip his hand and pull it up to my mouth so that he can feel my smile. It's not the first time a man has given me a compliment, but it's the first time I've heard the sincerity behind it. He isn't using me for sex or betraying me in any way.

He genuinely likes me.

For me.

He leans forward and places a kiss on my cheek, then fetches a rag so that I can clean up. With that handled, he settles in behind me. We lie together, naked, as we listen to the distant sound of the waves brushing against the sand.

A few minutes later, his breathing levels off to a light snore. I don't mind. If we can't fuck all night, that's okay. He's promised me tomorrow. He's promised me forever.

I close my eyes and smile. I've never allowed myself to want something like this, let alone indulge in the amount of vulnerability I've given this man. It doesn't even feel risky at this point. With my heart in his hands, I've never felt safer.

Once I smooth things over with Cat, all will be right again. I still don't know how I'll apologize, though I know I need to. But what do I apologize for? Her information was incorrect. Bennett was just being his usual insufferable self. He spread a?—

Thud . . . thud, thud . . .

I freeze and hold my breath as feet stomp across the porch outside the villa.

Without waking Ezra, I slide from beneath his arm and grab a robe from my overnight bag, though I nearly tip over in the process. My legs have forgotten how to function. Once I've covered my body in the thin silk wrap, I tiptoe to the front of the villa and peek through the gauzy curtain.

A tall man stands just outside the door. I don't recognize him. He looks much younger than Ezra. He's possibly younger than Cat. His sandy blond hair is short on the sides and longer on the top, which gives him the look of a government employee.

My stomach tenses. If he's a fed or a cop, we're in serious shit.

He raises his hand to knock, but I open the door before he can. I don't want to wake Ezra unless it's absolutely necessary.

"Can I help you?" I ask.

The light catches his face, revealing a set of perfectly straight teeth that definitely came from years of pricey orthodontic work. His eyes are light, though I can't tell if they're blue or green. He could cut steel with that jawline.

"I'm looking for Ezra. Jim said this was his villa, but I must have picked the wrong one." He brushes his hand through his hair, then offers it to me. "I'm Maverick, the Midnight Masochist."

My brain registers the name, and the alarm bells stop ringing. "Oh, gosh! Yes, Bennett mentioned you'd be here for the hunt, but I don't think Ezra was expecting you until tomorrow morning. I can wake him if you don't mind waiting for a second. He's not...decent."

Maverick lets out a deep laugh, then waves me off. "No, no need. I'll see him tomorrow morning. Jim let me stay in one of the vacant villas, but I found some of Ezra's things in there and wanted to return them to him. I can just leave them with you, though."

He reaches behind his back and pulls something shiny from his waistband. As he brings it around to the light, I realize it's the set of meat hooks we found in Eighties' villa.

"Oh, those aren't Ezra's," I say. "They belonged to a guy named Eighties, who, as it turns out, was actually the Abattoir Adonis. Jim must have put you in his villa."

Maverick turns the hooks in his hands, a look of confusion on his face. Then he looks at me. "Ezra isn't gonna like it when he finds out someone has been pretending to be the Abattoir Adonis."

"Pretending? I don't follow."

"Eighties couldn't have been AA. Ezra is the Abattoir Adonis."