I’m an asshole.

Every broken piece of furniture and shattered ornament echoes this as I pry my love off the wall and head across the room, kicking a fallen lamp out of my way.

It’s underscored by the fact that I don’t attempt to remove her from the carnage. I won’t make it to the bedroom. I don’t even try. Instead, I stumble to the large sectional sofa that is thankfully free of debris and drop her onto it. I watch her tits bounce as she shimmies to the middle of it. Her heavy breathing further exposes the heavenly globes, and I’m drooling by the time I kick off my sweatpants. I’m not wearing anything underneath, so she gets an immediate eyeful of my desperation.

My busy fingers attack the fly of her jeans but pause for a moment as her hazel gaze drops to my rock-hard cock. She swallows, and the next breath leaves her in an agitated puff. I drop one knee next to her hip and wrap my hand around my dick. She stops breathing, her eyes glued to the taunting, insanely dangerous play of my hand. I need her so much that I’m at risk of ejaculating all over her gorgeous tits if I’m not careful.

I grit my teeth and pray for control. I can’t give in. Not just yet. I need to make some specific point that escapes me right now.

“You want this, sweetheart?” I ask, barely able to recognize my gravel-rough voice.

Her moan is a reedy, desperate plea. “Yes.”

“Two days, Elyse.” Yeah, that’s it. She left. And I died. I sound like a fucking broken record. A selfish asshole singing a looping tune.

Her gaze surges upward from my cock to hold mine for a second. A spark lights the beautiful depths. Then she sinks her fingers into her waistband and yanks hard at the jeans. Her satin and lace panties come off with them. A second later, she’s gloriously naked.

The breathtaking sight of her is a solid punch to my gut. Impossibly, she’s even more beautiful than she was the first time I saw her naked a year ago. My pulse jumps all over the place, and a steady roar begins in my ears. It’s a roar I know won’t abate until I come deep inside her. Only then will I know even a hint of peace.

“You think you’re the only one who suffered?” Her question commands my attention.

Her eyes capture mine as she spreads her legs. One hand drifts down her torso, careful to avoid her breasts. She knows better than to touch what’s mine, especially when I’m in full hackle-raising, pissed-off mode. Two fingers glide over her stomach, over the bald crest of her cunt. They fork down either side of her slick folds, again careful to avoid the grand prize, to rest on either side of her hole. Her legs twitch, acute hunger in each movement. “I suffered, too, Quinn. Do you know how empty I’ve felt right here? How impossible it’s been to sleep at night without the satisfaction of having your cock inside me first? Do you know how tough it’s been to face each day knowing I won’t get to see you until tonight?”

I should be appeased. I’m not. Asshole.

“My plane was fueled and ready and at your disposal every second of every day. You could’ve come back. Obviously you didn’t miss me that much.”

Jesus. Double asshole.

Her eyes flash again. She knows full well I’m still in fight mode. The fingers between her legs move up, away from the slick pink flesh begging for my tongue, my teeth, my fingers, my cock.

“I’m hot for you, Quinn. I’m dying for you. But I won’t apologize for going.” Her legs begin to close. “So if you want to fight about it first—”

I release my cock and grab both slender thighs in a firm, implacable grip. A grip she resists for a heartbeat. “Attempt to keep me from this”—my gaze falls between her legs—“and I’ll spank the shit out of you.”

Her arms rise above her head to rest on the arm of the sofa, her body an offering that wrecks me until I’m sure I’m one breath away from exploding. “Right now I’ll settle for you fucking the shit out of me,” she says. “I’ll even beg if you want me to. Please. Quinn.”

My fingers sink into the flesh behind her knees, my vision blurring for a moment at her ability to knock the stuffing out of me. With a snarl charged from the depths of my need, I plunge my head between her legs.

If the taste of her nipples was sweet bliss, the taste of Elyse’s pussy is nirvana itself. I breathe her in as my mouth feasts on her clit, her hole, the silky flesh that guards her pussy. She shudders and rolls her hips into my kiss. I slurp shamelessly at her wetness, plunging my tongue into the tiny tightness that defiantly resists my ministrations. The thought of that snugness around my cock is so heady that I feel the organ jerk in desperate anticipation.

“Oh God!” she gasps.

I open eyes I don’t remember shutting and gaze at the stunning sight of her flat, faintly muscled belly, the proud rise of her breasts, her head thrown back in bliss, the ripples of her long, golden hair.

Mine.

“More,” she begs.

Mine.

I roll my tongue over her clit and then flick in a rapid-fire succession that sends her back arching off the sofa.

“Like this?”

“Yes! God. More. Please.” Her hips fuck my mouth faster, her movements uncoordinated as she attempts to speed up the process.

I decrease the intensity of the kiss. She whimpers and raises her head to spear me with a defiant glare.

“My pussy. My cum.”

Her mouth drops open. Her breath has the fucking audacity to catch. As if she’s forgotten. As if…hell…as if something has changed. I know I haven’t said those words in a while but…fuck.

She’s staring at me in shock.

My hands tighten on her. I know I’m going to leave marks. What else is fucking new?

“My body. My pussy. My fucking cum. Did you forget?” My voice is barely audible. And whatever she sees in my eyes freezes her into immobility.

“Y-yes,” she stutters. “I mean, no. It’s yours, Quinn. It’s always been yours. You’re the only one.”

My heart is racing faster than normal, and I don’t even know why. “Elyse…”

“Take it. Give it to me however you want to. It’s yours. Please.” Her voice shakes on the last word. I wonder for a moment what I’ve done to her. What I’ve done to us.

But the siren call of her pussy has always been too damn potent to resist. Eyes connected, I dip my head and taste her again. And again. Her eyes attempt to roll, but she knows the score. I may not be in control of much else, but I’m in full control of her.

I lick her. Slow. Then fast. I fuck her with my tongue until she’s whimpering again.

“I need…oh God.” She takes a deep breath, and I watch her eyebrows pleat as she tries to find the words. “Quinn…may I…I need. May I come? Now…oh God, now, please?”

My grunt is neither consent nor refusal. I release one thigh and slide my middle finger into her cunt. Her spasms suck me in, the greedy walls fueling her impending orgasm.

The orgasm I haven’t given her permission for. I withdraw my finger. She doesn’t chase it but I read the vicious need in her face.

“Beg.”

“Please.” The word shakes through her whole body.

“Say it, Elyse.”

“Y-your body. Your pussy. Your permission. May I come?” A film of tears brightens her eyes. That’s the effort she’s exerting to stop herself. To please me. I know I don’t deserve any of it. But fuck me, I lap it up.

“Yes,” I reply.

I slide my finger inside her as I suck her clit into my mouth. Her shaking turns into full-body trembling as her orgasm rips through her body. Her slick muscles grip my finger in a series of convulsions, and then a glorious rush floods my fingers and mouth. The scent of her release, the taste of what is mine, the blast of power to my groin is almost too much to bear. I drown in it all. Then I stagger my way up her body.

She stares at me with drugged eyes, her body still caught in her bliss. But her thighs are spreading wider, her hands trailing down my body and around my waist to grip my ass.

My cock finds her entrance without any guidance from my hand. At the touch of her wetness against my sensitive head, I’m done for.

“Elyse,” I croak her name just to attempt to ground myself.

“Yes.”

I thrust inside her, feel her snug resistance along every inch of my dick, and groan at the spine-melting pleasure that spreads through me.

“Motherfucker.” I hold myself still and breathe through the need to blow my load right then and there. She’s rippling around me, absorbing me deeper into her body. “Jesus.”

“Quinn. Fuck me,” she begs.

“You think I can stop?” I pull back and plunge deeper.

“Ah!” Her nails dig into my ass as renewed pleasure rips her apart.

“You know how addicted I am to you,” I accuse.

Her gaze hooks into mine. Each thrust hitches a breath out of her. Her breasts join in the rhythm. I can’t look away. I don’t want to.

Her legs lift, brushing against my forearms braced on either side of her shoulders. The message is tentative. She’s unsure of my mood, but she wants what she wants. My arms under her knees. My cock deeper inside her.

Since that’s what I want, too, I don’t waste time in repositioning myself. Her ass lifts off the sofa and I slam into her. Her scream flies through the apartment.

“Is this what you want?”

“I…I’ll take you any way I can get you.” Simple words. And yet they shatter me into further useless pieces. I fuck her until we’re both drenched in sweat. Until she wears grooves into my ass and back. Until her nipples are bloodred from being sucked on.

The pink flush cascades over her body, a sure sign she’s about to come again.

“Quinn…”

I drag my gaze from her breasts to her face. Elyse at pre-orgasm stage is one of the most beautiful sights in the whole fucking world. Sure, her postclimax look is great too. But right here and now, I hold her in the palm of my hand, mine to command as I please.

“Quinn,” she presses raggedly. “Let me…tell me…” She flushes pinker, her whole body vibrating with the need to explode.

But I don’t let her just yet. We’re not done.

My gaze drops to the mouth I want to kiss more than I want to breathe. But before I give myself permission to taste, there’s something I need to do. Something that even my conscienceless mind won’t let me get away with.

I lower my head until my mouth, still damp with her first come, hovers over hers. “I’m sorry, baby.”

One small hand leaves my shoulder to frame my jaw. “I know.”

“I’m an asshole for treating you like this.”

Her hand trembles against my cheek. “Have mercy on me, then. Let me come.”

I lower myself onto my elbows, still moving within her. Still lost in the mindless intoxication of her. “I will, baby. I promise. First I need to kiss you. Will you let me?”

Another wash of tears floods her eyes. Her nostrils quaver as she inhales. “Yes. Of course.”

The strength of her power and compassion knocks down another layer of my anger. My forehead drops to hers. “I’m sorry.”

Both hands frame my face. “Kiss me.”

I let go of every last fucking thing and take her mouth with mine. She half sighs, half groans as our tongues meet in a benediction only we have the power to afford ourselves. My cock thickens inside her as the last anchor holding me to reality snaps. The backs of my eyes prickle as I selfishly lose myself in everything that she is.

Her orgasm pulls at me, milks me with hard, addictive tugs I’m helpless to resist. Our gazes connect as she begins to jerk through her bliss. I increase the tempo of my thrusts, wanting to make it last longer for her. But kissing and fucking her at the same time—a pleasure I denied myself when we first met, back when I was Q and she was Lucky, back when we were supposed to just be two strangers using one another—has become an exhilarating combination that seals my fate the moment it begins.

Kissing Elyse is its own special trip to ecstasy.

A white-hot bolt of lightning shoots up my spine. My balls draw up and tighten, and I plead for one last desperate thrust before I’m roaring with the pleasure-pain of our fucking. I flood her cunt with every last drop of me. She takes it and begs for more with sexy whimpers and demanding hands.

I kiss her down from a mind-bending pinnacle and then collapse into her arms when our bodies still.

We lie like that for fuck knows how long. The ambient temperature in the room ensures our cooling bodies don’t get cold. At some point, we fall asleep, or maybe we just drift mindlessly.

When I open my eyes again, I’m beneath her, and she’s sprawled on top of me. I’m still inside her, and her beautiful weight is glorious and solid and present enough to keep me breathing. Her eyes are shut but I know she’s awake because her hand is caressing the skin above where my heart should be.

I wrap her tighter in my arms, and my gaze leaves her long enough to dart around the room. It all comes rushing back. My loss of control.

“I can’t function when you’re gone. Don’t leave me again.”

Her hand freezes. She says nothing. I’m terrified.

“Say it, Elyse. Say you won’t leave me again,” I press.

“I can say it, but I know you won’t believe me.”

“Say it anyway.”

Her lips firm for a moment before she lifts wide hazel eyes to mine. “No. Do you know how it makes me feel to know the words I say to you don’t mean anything? That it’s only a temporary salve that helps you for just a minute before you go back to doubting yourself? Doubting us?” Her voice is low and heavy with hurt. Hurt I put there.

I turn us to the side, still without dislodging myself from her, so I can see her better. What I see shames me into resting my head between her breasts. She wraps her arms around me, and I breathe her in. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Yes, you do. You just don’t want to do it.”

Residual anger threatens to raise its head, but I’m spent. “I’m done listening to that quack.”

She stays silent for a long while and then sighs. “Okay.”

That gets my attention. Because it sounds uncannily like acceptance. Like surrender. I raise my head. “Okay?”

“What do you want me say, Quinn? You fight me on everything.”

I flex my hips, my hardening cock welcoming the heady viscosity of her pussy walls. I love the way her pussy feels when she’s crammed full of my cum. “Not everything.”

Her pupils dilate as she loses herself in pleasure for a moment. But even the sexy smile she gives me is tinged with sadness. “No. Not everything.”

Where the depth of my hopeless rage terrified me before, now it’s her sad serenity that’s making my withered soul scream in terror.

I’m losing her.

I’m not ready.

“I love you.”

The words make her breath catch. An instant later, her eyes go bright with unshed tears. “I love you too.”

“I love you,” I repeat, but I know something is missing. Something inside me is too fucking terrified each time I utter those words. And I know she feels it. Just as I know it’s become a problem.

“I know, Quinn.”

“Do you?”

She nods.

“How?”

“Because I feel it. Here.” She takes my hand and presses it to her heart. But she’s still wearing that sadness like a cloak.

“But?”

She inhales deeply, and her fingers drift over my mouth. “I don’t want to fight—”

“But?”

“But I know you’re trying to contain it. You’re trying to handle it, put it in a box that you can visit when you think you need it. Or when you think I need it.”

“No—”

“Yes. I love you all the time, Quinn. I know the difference.”

Icy-cold terror spreads through me. “That’s bullshit, Elyse. I can’t fucking breathe when you’re not with me. What the hell is that if not love?”

“It’s love. It’s also obsession. A loss of control. And a lack of trust in what we have.”

“I see the good doctor’s been filling your head with bullshit again. Is that what he said to you on Friday morning? Is that why you didn’t call me all weekend?”

“I texted you almost every hour, Quinn. We agreed not to call because you didn’t want to disturb my time with Petra.”

Petra. Her sister, and the reason for her two-day absence that almost tipped me over the edge. Another subject I haven’t been able to reconcile myself with fully.

When we met a little over a year ago, Elyse was on the run from an asshole pimp who turned out to also be her biological father. By some insane set of coincidences, she was drawn into my orbit when I needed a final player in my game of revenge against my father, and she needed money to buy back her freedom and Petra’s safety.

The nightmare of nearly losing her to Clayton Getty still haunts me. But that’s just one of the many fucked-up battles raging in my head. It’s the reason I haven’t been able to meet Petra yet. Well, that and Dr. Fucking Freeman’s recommendation that meeting my lover’s sister wasn’t the best idea in the world right now.

In my better days, when a modicum of rationality shines through the dense fog of fuckery that is my mind, I even agree with his recommendation.

Elyse fought for a sister who is still alive. I fought to avenge a mother who was dead. I’m not sure why that difference grips me so hard. Maybe I’m jealous? Or maybe I don’t want to contaminate Petra with my filth. But the thought of meeting her terrifies me.

And I’m nowhere near “healed” enough to take on another relationship. Not when I’m already fucking up the only one I have.

“Tell me about Petra. How is she doing?”

Her face relaxes as the tension leaves her body. We’re nowhere near done talking about us, but I need something else to dilute the cold dread lodged in my stomach.

“She’s amazing. She’s gotten even better at horseback riding since I last saw her. Doris thinks she’s going to make an excellent show jumper one day. Paul is quietly terrified that she’ll fall and hurt herself. He’s trying to steer her toward becoming a vet.”

I can’t take my eyes off her beautifully animated face as she speaks of Petra’s adoptive parents. As she speaks of the love she has for another person besides me. I concluded I was a selfish asshole a long time ago. That conclusion hasn’t altered. Dr. Freeman wants me to work on that. It’s one of the many things that pisses me off about our shrink. “And you?” I force myself to ask. “What do you think?”

“I think she’ll be amazing at whatever she sets her mind to.”

“Hmm. Want me to buy her another horse?” I ask as I drop my head to nuzzle at the smooth valley between her breasts.

I shamelessly bought a horse for Petra last year when I was trying to win Elyse back after she discovered that I was both Quinn Blackwood and Q, the porn star. I didn’t start out to deceive her. It just turned out that both fucked-up personas ended up falling for this perfect creature in my arms.

“You bought her one at Christmas, Quinn,” she protests as her fingers slide into my hair.

“So what? Doesn’t she need a whole stable to try different horses or something to get really good at equestrianism?”

She uses her grip to pull me away from her breasts. “That’s weird. That’s exactly what she said to try and get me to buy her another horse. Have you been secretly boning up on equestrian training without tell me?”

“Not a secret. Keeping her happy makes you happy. I’m the bastard who will always want in on that action.”

“You say the nicest things.”

“Hmm. Also, speaking of boning…” I return my attention to her breasts, flicking the tip of my tongue over one nipple.

A delicate shudder runs through her. “Yes?”

“I need to fuck you again.”

Her eyes darken to that prefucking green I love, and her pussy spasms possessively around me. “Well I guess that’s a good thing, because I’d very much like to be fucked again.”

Satisfaction settles inside me as I rearrange her on top of me. For a while, I give her free rein, let her plant her knees on either side of my hips and bounce on top of me. The past year has seen her body blossom into the ultra-feminine fifties pinup frame her time on the run had eroded. The regular exercise regime I insist upon keeps her energy reserves at the optimum. I need that so I don’t have to worry about wearing her out. Fucking was a means to pass the time before I met Elyse. Now fucking Elyse has become as necessary to me as breathing.

The sight of her full, swaying breasts threatens to drive me over the edge mere minutes after she starts fucking me.

I cup the gorgeous mounds, brushing my thumbs over the hard peaks. “So sexy. So fucking perfect.” Her pussy tightens around my rigid cock. “Tell me you missed me.”

She throws her head back, fucks me faster. “I missed you. So much.”

“Look at me when you say that,” I command.

She curls her legs and settles on her knees. Hands planted on my chest, she stares into my eyes as she resumes a steady, languorous pumping. “The texts were nowhere near enough. I picked up the phone a hundred times to call you just so I could hear your voice. I may have watched a couple of clips of you on YouTube just to hear you talk. I have it bad for you, Quinn. So damn bad.”

I grip her wrists and tug her down to me. One hand on her hip and the other fisted in her hair keeps her immobilized as I take over the fucking from beneath her. Her pupils dilate and her breathing fractures.

“You wanna know what I did before I wrecked the fucking apartment?”

“Yes.”

“I chartered another plane to Vancouver,” I confess as I slide in and out of her.

“Oh my God.”

“I flew all the way across the fucking country, got to the airport, and turned and came back.”

“Oh, Quinn.” Her voice breaks.

“That’s what you do to me, Elyse. That’s what you’ll always do to me.”

I don’t give her a chance to respond. I don’t know if I’m ready for what she’ll say. I pull her down the last few inches and fuse my mouth to hers.

We stay like that, kissing and fucking each other hello again.

Half an hour later, she stirs on top of me.

“Quinn?”

I force myself not to stiffen. “Yeah?”

“Can I go take that shower now?”

I silently exhale and rise with her in my arms. I notice she avoids looking at the carnage as I walk her out of the living room and down the hallway to our bedroom. I don’t let her go until we’re inside the shower cubicle.

Her eyes meet mine as she gathers her long hair on top of her head. She opens her mouth, pauses, and then shakes her head.

“Spit it out, Elyse.”

“Tell me how it went with Dr. Freeman.”

It’s not a subject I particularly want to discuss. But the sex has settled me a little, so I give what I can. “He wants me to forgive him.”

“Your father?”

“The asshole whose sperm created me,” I amend. Maxwell Blackwood stopped being a father to me long before he and my stepmother orchestrated my mother’s suicide and sent me down a spiraling road to hell.

Elyse sighs and closes her eyes. For some reason, that pisses me off.

“What? You better not tell me you agree with that quack.”

“He’s not a quack or you’d have fired him a long time ago. But I’m guessing you told him no?”

I grab the shower gel and take my time in soaping her body. “I did more than that. I told him to go fuck himself.”

She shakes her head. “God, Quinn. What did he say to that?”

“He made a note of it and said he’ll see me next week.”

She laughs for the first time since walking in the door.

And I can’t help it. I fall even deeper under her spell.