Free Beyond Addiction by Kit Rocha Page A

deeper, faster.
    He stilled her with one iron hand on her hip. “Not like that. Watch in the mirror.”
    She lifted her head, and her gaze clashed with his. She was vaguely aware of everything else reflected in the mirror—naked flesh and twisting ink, all gilded by firelight and darkened by shadow—but all she could really see was his face.
    His eyes.
    “Don’t move.” Quiet words, skating the edge of something wild. “I can’t fuck you slow if you move.”
    She didn’t mean to, but sheer quaking need made her clench around him.
    In the mirror, she watched his eyes close and his lips part. His hips rolled, driving him deeper, and then he was over her, the hot skin of his chest pressed to her back, one strong hand under her chin, tilting her head. “Tell me to stop,” he hissed against her ear, even as his body caged hers.
    Never. She wrapped her fingers around his forearm, relishing the play of hard, tense muscle beneath his skin. He kept asking her what she wanted, telling her she could have anything—
    “Give me this,” she whispered.
    He did.
    His next thrust was hard, forcing her to feel every inch of him. He muffled her shocked cry with his hand over her mouth, and Trix’s head swam, not because she couldn’t breathe, but because she couldn’t process the dichotomy of it all. How she could be caged but free, at the center of such a storm of need and yet still in control.
    And she was. Even as he thrust into her again, twisting the tense pleasure in her belly with impossible speed, he watched her. Carefully, so carefully, and she knew that one hint of distress and he’d stop.
    She clung to him instead.
    His beard scratched her skin as he pressed his cheek to hers. “Touch yourself. Get yourself off on me.”
    Christ. She slid her hand from his arm, down over her throat, stopping to cup her breast. She met his gaze before pinching her fingers tight enough to hurt. The pain bowed her back, and she shuddered as the position tilted her hips for his next pounding advance.
    She must have been so numb the last time he’d fucked her, cut off from everything. Surely she would have remembered this, the longing and lust. The ravenous look in his eyes as she dropped her hand lower to tease her clit.
    Pleasure deepened, and Finn snarled his approval as her pussy clenched tight around him. “That’s right, baby. Let me feel you.”
    I can’t. The words came out unintelligible, muffled by his hand. It was overwhelming, far too fast. She was hurtling toward release, and she’d barely had a chance to savor the aching stretch of his cock inside her. It couldn’t last, not like this, and the very thought broke her heart.
    What if this was all they had?
    She pulled her hand away.
    Finn curled his fingers around the column of her neck, gentle but heavy. “Is this what you want?”
    She opened her mouth to answer, but she could feel a wild cry building in her throat, so she sank her teeth into her lower lip to hold it back. When her gaze fell on the mirror, Finn was still watching her. Not her swaying breasts or the erotic sight of his cock plunging into her, but her face. Her eyes.
    His hips flexed, driving him deeper. “Don’t hold back from me. Don’t fucking hold back.”
    He’d told her he wouldn’t share her, not even her screams, and suddenly she felt it, too. This was a moment just for them. No one else had to understand or approve, as long as they knew.
    He had to know. “I missed you so much,” she rasped. “I wish—”
    He smothered her regrets with another kiss, forcing her head up and back with one shaking hand on her chin. It was messy and raw, a tangle of tongues and teeth and low, animal noises, as he fucked her in short, rough strokes.
    He held her like that, wrapped in his arms, grinding against her, as if he couldn’t bear to pull away for even a moment. She could feel his heart pounding, thumping in time with hers, and Trix gave in. Finn had always stripped away her resistance, and never