by Anthology
“Fuck. Emerson. Baby, you’re so tight, so fucking amazing,” he said in time with his fierce thrusts.
“Please,” I keened, pushing my ass back against him with each push. He kept a steady, almost inhuman rhythm, but I knew from the catches in his breath just how difficult it was for him to hold back. “Bash, please!”
“Do you need me to finish you, baby?” His hand switched from the vice-grip he’d had on my hips to the inside of my thigh, close, but not quite there. “Where do you need me?’
“Touch me, damn it!” I ordered, not in the mood for his games. Not when he had me wound this tight, this desperate for release.
He laughed low and sexy, his scruff scraping my ear. “Anything for you,” he said, reaching between us to rub my clit as he pounded into me.
I tried to muffle my cries, but couldn’t, and when that wave finally crest, pulling me over with it, I screamed his name.
“Yes,” he hissed, then pulled out, spun me around and lifted me against him as he backed into the huge armchair he kept in the corner. Sitting, I straddled him, taking him back inside me with a gasp as he pushed through my hyper-sensitive folds. “I love you,” he swore, gripping my hair with one hand and my hip with the other.
“I love you,” I replied. My smile spread slowly, but I began to rise and fall quickly, giving him the speed I knew he needed. Both his hands dropped to my ass, using the incredible strength in his arms to guide my movements faster, harder.
I rode him until he came, watching his eyes burn green, the look of absolute contentment spreading across his features before he pulled my head to his shoulder so he could hold me. “You are a goddess,” he whispered.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” I answered with a laugh.
“But seriously, Emerson. With all the crew out there? You couldn’t wait until tonight?” He joked.
I smacked his sculpted chest. “Get dressed and get out there!”
We tossed clothes at each other, scrambling to put ourselves back together. I tossed my hair into a make-shift bun, but there was no hiding the flush in my cheeks, or the beard-burn on my neck.
Once we were presentable, we walked into the great room, hand in hand. Spencer stood as we made it to the group. I looked at the faces, some we barely knew, and others we’d grown up with, mourned with, changed with. We’d been burned alive, decimated, rebuilt our town, our team and came back stronger.
“Welcome to the Legacy Hotshots. As for a team name—”
“Team Phoenix,” I blurted out. “We’re pretty good at rising from the ashes.”
The legacies glanced at one another and back to us, all nodding in agreement. Bash kissed me, uncaring that everyone watched. “Team Phoenix it is,” he announced loudly, then whispered in my ear, “We’re even better the second time around.”
He was right. We were. Damaged and whole, lust and love, and utterly, imperfectly perfect. He looked back to the crew and handed the floor to Spencer.
“Now let’s get to work.”
The End
More Novels By Rebecca Yarros
Flight And Glory Series
Full Measures
Eyes Turned Skyward
Beyond What Is Given
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Table of Contents
Bound To Me
Hickey
Saint
Craved
Tormented by a Dangerous Man
Bitter Rivals
Capturing Liberty
Point of Origin
