There’s no preamble, no fucking foreplay. I ease between her thighs, press my cock against her entrance, and punch inside, burying myself in the heat of my woman. “God, Wick. Deeper.” I don’t feel like a God. I feel like a man—skin and bones, flesh and blood, capable of defending what belongs to me. I take Verity, take what’s mine, slamming my hips into her ruthlessly, getting harder with her every breathless cry. She holds onto me, clenching with every thrust. When I come, burying myself inside of her with a pained grunt, it feels just like death should be. Earned. Warm. Final. But Verity and
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