Gage gives and presses in slow at first, tearing into me with his girth as round as a fist—my body seizes as he pushes in deep. A roar rips from the both of us at that very moment. Gage groans his way into my body, hard and greedy. I want him to burst through the seams, push deep into me and pop up through my throat. I dig my nails into his back and press him into me harder until a white-hot pain that rides the threshold of pleasure spasms through my body, quick as lightning.
Gage pauses, looking down at me with his chest pumping fast. My body pulsates with a riot of blistering flames that knife me in two, leaving me physically unable to speak.
“You’re my wife, Skyla.” He closes his eyes a moment as if he were relieved. “God, I love you.” He pulls out slow before plunging in carefully, rhythmically. His head is too far up on the bed for me to reach, so I pull my lips over his chest and accept the beautiful sting as he lights me on fire from the inside.
I’m burning for Gage in all the right places.
It’s finally happened. We are one in God’s eyes.
I’m his wife.
Gage
A vision comes to me. A brilliant light explodes through my mind, hot and blinding as a nuclear holocaust, and I see us, Skyla slapping her hands into my chest. I trusted you! She screams at the top of her lungs, her disappointment sawing through my eardrums. God, Gage, you’re nothing but a liar! I will never trust you again. You are the definition of shady! Her face is red with fury as tears stream down her face. How could you? I thought you loved me. Get away from me, right now, she screams, but I foolishly take a step forward. She grabs a backpack off the floor and hurls it at me. I thought I knew who you were.
“Skyla,” I gasp as the hotel room forms around me, hot and sweltering as a sauna, the orange lip of the curtain lets me know it’s still daylight out. We’re still here, right where I want to be with my body buried deep inside her. The room is perfumed with the scent of our bodies, raw with a tangy sweetness I could never have imagined.
A whimper escapes her throat as I pull out and dive back in. Skyla’s body squeezes around mine with a death grip. She feels soft on the inside, far more tender than I thought possible and so damn beautifully wet as if she had an extra tongue down there licking me clean. She clenches tight, holding on for dear life, strangling my dick just enough to make me throb over her in a fit of ecstasy.
I lower my lips to hers. Skyla penetrates my mouth with her hungry tongue, slipping over me in a welcome frenzy. She bites my bottom lip, her legs inching higher up my back. She grows with urgency, and it would be so easy for me to cave—to give her exactly what she’s asking for. I thrust into her a few good times the way I want—savoring the electric sensation, the heat, the softness, the way she feels as if she’s clutching me from the inside before I pull out.
“What are you doing?” She scrambles to her elbows.
“What I should be doing.” I open the nightstand and pluck out a foil packet that shines in this dull light like a fallen star. Skyla takes it from me and runs it along my lips. I tear it open with my teeth never taking my eyes from hers. She rolls it on over me, ever so slowly. Her chest expands as she hits the base.
“Thank you.” Her lids lower as if she was embarrassed. Her lips ignite a ruby red, her cheeks a dark shade of crimson. Skyla is glowing—glistening—and it’s all for me.
“For?” I kiss her forehead, resisting the urge to plunge back in for a moment.
“For letting me feel you inside me. Just you. I wanted that. It was special.” She navigates me back down to the entry of her body. Her eyes widen as she gazes into mine. “And now I want you in me again, Gage.” She throws her arms up over her head, and her lids flutter like the wings of a butterfly. “Please.”
I push in soft, and her mouth opens as if it were about all she could handle. I catch my breath and hold it because, holy shit, it’s about all I can handle. It’s as if my life had passed before my eyes, and who I was this morning and who I am now are two entirely different beings. I’ve evolved into the person I’ve always known I was destined to be—the one who loves Skyla infinitely, intensely, downright aggressively until she can’t see straight, can’t stop smiling from all the damn bliss.
“Am I hurting you?” Stupid question. I could feel her ripping beneath me, stretching and tearing to accommodate everything I can give her. There’s no way in hell this doesn’t hurt. It hurts me just thinking about it. An apology demands to spew from my lips, but instead I say, “I just want to love you like this all night, Skyla.” I never said I wasn’t a greedy bastard.
Her thighs tense over my ribcage. Her insides squeeze the shit out of my dick in the most erotic way.
I plunge in and out, knotting my fingers in her hair, my body rising above hers a good foot. I’m about to float to the ceiling, take Skyla along with me for the ride.
Her lips melt onto my chest as she takes a spirited bite, and I buck over her. The pleasure mingles with the pain in a burst of beautiful insanity. Skyla is a treasure full of surprises, and I’m ready to discover them all.
“Fuck,” it strains from me. Primal urges take over—rational thoughts, hearts with arrows are long gone in no-man’s land. This is Skyla Messenger moaning beneath me—Skyla Oliver. And, by some erotic miracle, my every wet dream is coming true right this minute. I can’t focus on anything other than pressing into her—diving in over and over, losing my fucking mind in the process. I’ve watched just enough porn, studied it like an archeologist pouring over hieroglyphics, to know she wants in on this. I bring my hand down to her sweet wetness, and she catches my fingers.
“Right there.” She pants into my neck. I rub over her gently and that’s it, I’m too far gone to stop, I can’t hang on another moment. Gravity has lost its hold on me. I’m floating from earth, rolling into the great unknown. My fingers works furtively over her heated flesh, hoping she’ll catch up and take the ride. My body drills into hers, unrelenting, unmerciful, blow after blow as an electrical current rips through me. Skyla gives a hard gasp as I quake into her, my body shaking over hers unstoppable.
A vision explodes in my mind. I’m sitting on a throne. Skyla gives a look of sorrow before walking away from me.
A groan rips from my lungs as Skyla locks her legs over me tight, imprisoning me inside her as if I’d ever want to leave. She pants hard into my ear before bucking beneath me with her own private earthquake that lets me know she’s right there with me as a laugh tries to strangle its way from my throat.
Shit. I pepper her face with fiery kisses—my lungs still pumping away as if I just ran around the globe. Our hearts pound over one another with a violent ferocity, demanding to be let out of their cages, wanting to fuse over one another like we are now.
It happened. Skyla and I happened—are still happening, and I’m living the Olympic gold moment of my life. This is what I’ve always wanted—what I’ll always want.
Our bodies blaze with heat, sticky to the touch. I’m raining down sweat over her, but I can’t help it.
“Did you like that?” I whisper, biting gently on her ear.
“I loved that.” Her knees glide off my back. Her hands clamp down over my ass pressing me in tight.
My chest rumbles with the idea of a laugh. For so long I dreamed about this, spent hours fantasizing about this very moment while slicking off in the shower, and here we are—the only place I’ve ever wanted to be, buried deep inside Skyla—tucked high up in her body like I belong there—and I do. This was the singular moment I lived for, and it’s happening—it’ll continue to happen until I’m forcibly ripped from the planet.
I press a kiss to her moist temple and linger. There’s no doubt I want to burn through every condom in that nightstand, and then that will never be enough.
Logan thumps through my mind uninvited. He had a honeymoon with Skyla—three days in Rome. That’s all I know, all I ever want to know. And here Skyla and I are on Host—in a hotel room that charges by the fuck.
I had enough in m
y pocket for one night’s stay. So much for thinking things through.
She gives a soft moan while nuzzling her lips against my neck.
“You’re mine, Oliver—I’m yours. And now…” She wriggles up until we’re eye to eye, and I can feel myself slipping out of her warm, wet body. She sucks in a breath. “Put that back,” she teases with a laugh trembling on her lips.
“You were saying.” I run my tongue along her jawline.
“And now”—her eyes settle over mine with fresh tears glazing the surface—“we get to be together this way forever, Gage. We did it.” A series of giggles bubble from her even though her eyes squint with sadness. “We literally did it.” Her finger curls under my chin. “Did you like it?” Her eyes narrow with pain as if she were genuinely worried.
“No.” I kiss each of her lids. “I loved it, and I love you, Skyla Oliver.” My heart pounds over hers as if sounding a gavel.
Her body trembles with a quiet laugh. “Skyla Oliver.” She moans as if she were drinking down the sweetest nectar. Her eyes bear into mine, glittering like a thousand stars are buried in each one. “Gage—our love is strong as death—stronger than death.” She gives a slight nod. “You know that?”
Skyla has said those words to me before. They’ve become a silent mantra that thumps in the background of our love like a heartbeat.
“Stronger than death,” I whisper into her lips. My mouth melts over hers before tracing down her neck in a line with soft, careful kisses. My mission is simple tonight, kiss every last inch of her—savor that special part of her, taste her with my mouth. There’s no way we’re done by a long shot—I still have plenty of territory to cover, and I don’t plan on missing an inch.
I cup her tits and bring my mouth down over one. My teeth graze over her nipple, and my insides flex with a beautiful pain. Skyla is killing me in the best way possible. I lap my tongue over her until she’s rough in my mouth and suck her down—drinking her in. Her softness conforms to my lips, her tender flesh molds to my face like a pillow. Skyla feels a thousand times better than I could have imagined. What happened in this bed today cheapened every self-induced pleasure I’ve ever had.
My body pulsates like a live wire, snapping and tense, thirsty for more of her, demanding we fuse together.
“You know what I was thinking as we walked into that courthouse?” she whispers, running her fingers through my hair. I glide up beside her, landing my smile over hers.
“Were you wondering how I ever manipulated you into doing something so crazy?”
“Please.” Her hands touch my chest as if she were about to push me away before her fingers spread wide as wings and fly down toward my waist. “I was thinking, I’m going to sleep with Gage.” Her cheeks pinch a bright pink. “Okay, I might have thought a four letter word that wasn’t very ladylike, but you get the picture.”
I force the smile to melt off my face. “So you were thinking about fucking me.” I reach down and slip the rubber off and land it in the wastebasket next to the bed.
“You make it sound so dirty.” She bites into her lip like she’s enjoying this. “And what were you thinking?”
“Simple.” I take a playful bite out of her cheek. “I was thinking about all the ways I was going to fuck you.”
“Gage!” She smacks me over the shoulder.
“Okay, I’m not being one hundred percent truthful.” I lift up on my elbows and brush the hair from her face. Skyla is a living porcelain doll, flawless in form and beauty. “I thought, my God—she’s so damn beautiful.” My voice breaks as I say it. “Why in the hell does she want someone like me?” I shake my head and fight back tears because a part of me still demands to know the answer to that question. “Sometimes I think I’ve willed myself on you—like this is all some mind trick—that’s how bad I’ve wanted you.” I give a hard sniff. “Swear to God, Skyla, I can die happy now. You’re all I’ve ever wanted. Every day I plan on letting you know how special you are to me.”
Tears roll down her cheeks freely as she nods into me. “You’re beautiful, Gage—both inside and out.” Her lips reach mine, and she greets me with a salty kiss. “Thank you for loving me.”
What Skyla and I have is beautiful.
My hand swims toward the nightstand.
I plan on loving Skyla all night long.
That vision of Skyla screaming in a blind rage comes back to me, and I chase it away. One thing is certain; I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure that vision never comes true. The vision of me seated on a throne thumps through my mind, and I shake my head.
Who the hell would give me any power?
Logan
The Transfer billows with a smoky blue fog as we make our way to Wesley’s stomping grounds.
“Chloe is with him.” I glance to Laken when I say it. I doubt Coop gives a shit who he’s shacking up with, but I know Laken and Wes were pretty serious for a while. I know what it feels like to have your heart ripped in two when you see someone you were once close with, latching onto another person. I asked Gage to keep Skyla safe, to date her, in an effort to throw off the Counts. It twisted my balls just watching the two of them share a laugh around campus—and, of course, that clever scheme backfired spectacularly. Most of my hair-brained ideas do. Gage did keep Skyla safe—in his arms. He did date her—still is.
Ezrina glances back at the building that houses her old lab, and her chest expands as if she were calling on her resolve to get through this.
“You can go back to Paragon if you want,” I say. “I get it. If this is too hard—if you’re afraid—”
“I’m not afraid of the Transfer.” She balks at the idea. “I’m not afraid of anything.” Her dark eyes burn into mine. “Don’t you ever forget that.”
Nice. I shake my head as I venture forward. Ezrina is a loose cannon. I’m not sure why Skyla feels so confidant she’s on our side. I get the feeling the only side Ezrina is on is Ezrina’s.
Dudley appears before I can knock, and one of the lion heads adorning the oversized doors comes to life and gives a ferocious roar.
“Not now, Candace,” he jests as the doors blow open, and we step inside.
Pitchy jazz music infiltrates the air. The fresh scent of a fire bites through my nostrils.
“The council of wickedness and his Countenance.” Marshall nods toward the main hall where we find Demetri giving his signature, sick gleam. Wes and Chloe rise to meet us.
Laken goes rigid, and Coop wraps an arm around her waist as if holding her up.
“Laken—God, I’ve missed you.” Wes speeds toward her like a man on a mission. “Come back to me. I can’t take this anymore.” His eyes wash over her features with grief as he places his hands on her shoulders.
Coop knocks Wes back a good ten feet. “Don’t you fucking touch her.”
“Language,” Dudley snaps. “What the hell are we here for?” He growls into Ezrina.
“Wesley”—Ezrina’s voice vibrates out of tune—“shall you tell them or shall I?”
The windows ignite with a seizure of light, and every last one of us turns toward the opened doors. The sky fragments once again in a turquoise flame, exposing the sins of the Transfer in a wild shock of illumination.
That demented grin finally slides from Demetri’s face as he staggers toward the exit.
“It’s done.” He shoots a quick look to Wes as the ground begins to shake.
“What’s happening?” Laken drills into Wes, and, just as he’s about to open his mouth, a fountain appears near the entry. An entire pyramid of champagne flutes materialize from thin air, followed by a butter yellow liquid that waterfalls down from the top, filling each of the crystal flutes with the bubbling brew.
“Drink with me, brother.” Demetri takes a glass and generously passes it to Dudley.
Marshall takes a whiff before touching it to his lips. “Crème de la crème.”
“Only the best for occasions such as this.” Demetri widens his chest as he fills himself wit
h pride. He motions for us all to partake, but we’re not near as eager to move as the shortsighted Sector.
“This reminds me of the king’s feast.” Marshall takes a careful sip and moans. “That would be the wedding to to his first wife, of course,” Dudley babbles on. “But, I must say, the future will pan out much better than the past ever did.”
“I agree.” Demetri gives a slight bow.
The sky ignites again, lighting up the Transfer over and over as if someone were flickering a switch, and Dudley stops cold with the champagne flute still tucked in his lips. His eyes bulge. The glass slips from his fingers before shattering at his feet.
Knew it. Demetri probably pissed in the bubbly.
Marshall strides out the door, and we follow.
“No,” he says it low, staring at the ground as if he’s had a profound epiphany. “Dear God up in heaven, what have you done?” He staggers toward Demetri with a wild look in his eyes. Marshall is dispossessed—caught off guard—and this worries the shit out of me.
Demetri thunders something short of a satisfied laugh. “It looks as though I’m one step ahead of your carnal perversions.”
“Holy heaven.” Marshall closes his eyes before roaring back to life. He lunges toward Wesley and roughs him up against the wall. Dudley inspects his face before tossing him into the bushes with a pronounced finality.
He stomps into the open, pitches his head back and cries out Skyla’s name, so loud that it rocks the Transfer, the earth, the universe with its deafening echo.
A darkness you can feel, taste, descends upon us, and the Transfer melts from right under our feet.
7
Trust Without Borders
Skyla
The rain pelts soft against the window like a love song, as if the universe were peppering it with a million gentle kisses. This is a time for love, for lovers, for Gage and me. We have the hotel one solid night, not nearly enough time to fully take in the pleasure of each other’s bodies, but it’s a damn good start. We set down our roots, twisted our beings around one another so fantastically tight we had become inextricable, banned from ever living a life apart.