How It Will Be by T. S. Joyce
Chapter Eleven
Bron was having another bad dream.
The change in his breathing woke Ren up, but the tension in his arms told her he wasn’t awake. Not yet.
She didn’t want him to get to the bad part. Didn’t want him to get to the fall, or the collision with earth, and wake up thinking he’d died again, so she rolled over in his arms and slipped her hands up his chest. Tonight, she’d asked him to sleep in the bed with her so they had more room than on the couch. He’d said ‘just sleep’. He was good about reminder her that she could set the pace.
In the dim moonlight that shone through the window, his frown was cast in blue shadows. No, no, she didn’t like this dream.
“Bron,” she murmured, but he didn’t hear her. He couldn’t. He was in another world right now. He was locked in a memory.
Ren propped herself up on her arm and stroked the tension lines of his clenched jaw.
“Bron,” she murmured a little louder.
But still, he dreamed.
Ren eased pressure onto his shoulder until he rolled onto his back, and she straddled his hips and pulled the covers around her waist. She rolled her hips against him and leaned down, whispered into his ear, “You’re here with me. Come back.”
Bron froze. He went still as a statue under her, and his breath caught in his throat. There he was.
Ren leaned back just far enough to kiss his lips, and then she cupped his face and watched the tension fade from him. He grabbed her wrists and held her there. “Stay just like this,” he murmured.
Ren shook her head. She had other ideas.
All he wore were a pair of black sweats that rode low on his hips. His chest was bare, and she could see the curves and shadows of his perfect pecs and abs. Ren sat up straight on his hips and pulled his oversized shirt she’d borrowed for sleeping over her head, then let it drop to the bed beside him.
And she saw it—the nightmare faded from his eyes like it had never existed at all.
This feeling of power was unmatchable. She rolled her hips again, and reveled in the intensity that built in his face with every stroke. He was hard as a rock in seconds, and slowly, she lifted up just enough to push his sweats down his thighs. All that stood between their skin now was her panties, but she was having too much fun teasing to take those off yet.
Bron slid his hands up her stomach to her breasts and grabbed them both with a moan. She gripped his forearms and pulled him closer. Harder. He massaged them and kneaded them until she was writhing faster. In a blur, he sat up and met her lips, curved toward her body. He crushed her to his chest and rocked his hips against her. His dick was right there, pressing against her folds, held back only by the thin satin of her panties. God, she was already so wet. So ready.
Faster, she rocked against him, unable to help herself now. He felt so good pressed against her. She couldn’t even imagine how good he would feel sliding into her.
His strokes were growing more frantic like he was losing control too, and she parted her lips for him to kiss her harder. His body was stone under her touch.
“Ren,” he ground out, stroking against her panties, pressing the material up against her sex.
The way he said her name. Ooooh, the grit and pleading in his voice.
She loved it. Loved that he wanted her as much as she wanted him.
Desperation took her, and she lifted up just enough to pull her panties to the side. The head of his thick cock found her entrance immediately. He pushed up into her by inches, withdrew, pushed, withdrew, stretching her as he went. His breath came in shallow pants, and she moaned with every stroke that went deeper inside of her. At last, when he gripped her hips and pulled her down to take all of him, she threw her head back and cried out at how good it felt.
He stayed deep, thrusting hard, and she was already so close. She had no idea what she was saying, only that she’d lost her mind completely. Bron owned her. He owned her body, owned her soul. “I don’t want to stop,” he gritted out, bucking into her fast now.
“Then don’t,” she whispered against his ear.
His fingers dug into her hips as he yanked her up and down hard, filling her with his shaft and hitting her in that perfect place, building the pressure up until she was consumed.
She cried out his name as her body imploded, and Bron slammed into her deeper as his dick pulsed to match her release. He yelled as he came into her in warm spurts, and she was powerless to do anything but hold on as tight as she could. They moved together slower, and slower, and slower still, riding that throbbing ecstasy until it faded completely, and all that remained were two Crow Blooded souls that had done something irreversible together. They’d already created the tiny thread of a bond when they were children, and it had thickened when she’d come here. And now? The bond was steel. She could feel it between them, powerful, unbreakable.
She waited for the feeling of fear to come. The feeling of regret, but it didn’t. Not when she was here with Bron stroking his hands down every inch of her body and making her understand she was coveted. Not with his lips finding hers time and time again to remind her that she was important. Not with his eyes that were so earnest, and clear, and regret-free when he looked at her.
Bron pulled her tighter against his chest and just held her there. “If you don’t run, I won’t run,” he murmured against her throat.
Oh, he knew her well. He knew her better than anyone. She’d never allowed anyone in like she did with him, but now things were different. From her marrow outward, she was different.
“I don’t think I could run now, even if I tried.”
