CHAPTER 82: 82 - I NEED YOU

82

~Belinda’s POV

I didn’t even think. The moment I saw Richard, something in me snapped. Maybe it was the way he looked at me, like he knew something was off. Or maybe it was just everything, everything I’d been holding in since Damon bought that damn doll.

I reached for his wrist and grabbed it, tight. "Come with me," I said sharply.

He didn’t resist. He followed quietly, his footsteps echoing softly behind me as I led him through the hallway. I could feel the burn in my chest rising with each step, like I was about to explode.

When we reached my door, I flung it open and pulled him inside with me. I didn’t give him a chance to speak, didn’t care if anyone saw. I slammed the door shut, locked it with a sharp click, and just stood there for a moment, my hand still gripping the knob like it was the only thing holding me together.

The second the door closed behind us, I turned around and looked at him.

Richard.

His shirt was rumpled and he wasn’t putting on any iron. His eyes were on me, tired, but locked in.

I didn’t wait.

I pushed him, gently but fast, against the wall. "I need you," I breathed.

His back hit the hallway wall, and before he could say anything, I kissed him. Hard. My hands grabbed the front of his shirt like I was afraid he’d slip away if I didn’t hold tight.

His hands went to my waist.

His throat moved as he swallowed.

I kissed him again, my mouth desperate against his. I could feel his heartbeat thudding beneath my palms, feel his breath hitch against my cheek. His hands slid from my waist to my back, up under my shirt, his touch hot and shaking just like mine.

"I thought..." I broke the kiss, just long enough to speak. "I need this, Richard, so better do it right."

Tears blurred my vision. I blinked them away and kissed him again, slower this time, deeper. My fingers pushed into his hair, pulling him closer. His arms tightened around me like he couldn’t stand even an inch of distance.

He kissed me back like he was breathing me in. Like he was just as scared. Like he’d dreamed about this moment and couldn’t believe it was real.

I slipped my hands down his chest, over his shirt, tugging at the hem. "Off," I whispered against his lips.

"Good," I whispered. "Because I need you. Right now. All of you."

His lips crashed into mine again.

And this time, there was no stopping.

His hands slid under my thighs and lifted me like I weighed nothing. I gasped, breath catching in my throat as my arms wrapped tight around his shoulders, clinging to him like my life depended on it.

He held me close, strong and steady, and for a moment, I just stared into his eyes, dark, intense, full of a hunger that mirrored mine. We didn’t smile. We didn’t speak. There was no time for that now.

He turned and started walking, his steps quick but careful, carrying me around the room like I was something fragile and precious. My chest pressed against his, our breaths mixing, fast and shallow. My fingers curled into the back of his neck, needing to feel his skin, needing to know he was real and here and mine.

We didn’t speak, but our kisses said everything.

He kicked open the door to my bedroom, and the second my back hit the bed, I was pulling at his shirt.

"Off, please," I breathed.

He leaned over me, eyes searching. "You sure this is okay?"

"I’m sure," I said, tugging the hem up. "I don’t want gentle right now. I want you. Don’t hold back."

He exhaled sharply. "You sure you can handle that?"

"I’ve been handling it," I said, dragging his shirt up and off. "Let me feel you this time."

His shirt hit the floor, and I reached up, tracing my fingers along his chest. His skin was warm, scarred in places. Real. He was real.

He leaned down again, kissing me slowly, deeper now. My hands roamed his back, pulling him close. His kisses moved to my jaw, then to my neck.

Everywhere he touched, I felt like I was catching fire.

We weren’t rushing, not anymore.

"Miss Belinda..." he tried to speak.

"Shut up and kiss me again," I said, tugging him closer.

He did.

And this time, when we kissed, it felt like I’m taking revenge on Damon.

His hands slid over my back, to my butt, and rested there for a second.

I pressed tighter against him, taking the kiss deeper. The energy shift

between us was seamless, from comforting and pained to needy and

lustful.

My clothes were easy to remove. When I was naked, he surveyed me. My nipples peaked when he ran his gaze over them. His big hands reached up to cup my breasts, and we both shuddered.

He was far too overdressed despite not putting on the iron. I attacked the button on his jeans, struggling with the stiff denim. He tried to help, but his hands were more in the way than anything else.

"You do your shirt," I ordered, trying to concentrate.

When he was so close, his body heat alone made me ache. He pushed my leg aside and sank inside me. I groaned and arched, forcing him to speed up to a faster pace. His fingers clenched over my thigh, and he moved harder, deeper, shafting her in long, fast strokes.

He slid my hands down over his back, slick with sweat, and grasped his pumping buttocks. He pressed his mouth against my neck and kissed me,

his tongue working over my sensitive skin.

"Fuck, this is delicious," he moaned.

I wound my leg over his hips. "Harder."

He took my request, his body slamming into mine. The coil of passion inside my belly went tighter, but that sliver of a peak remained out of reach.

Until he put some space between us and his fingers went searching between my legs. He rubbed a slow, seductive circle around my clit, his delicate fingers at odds with the furious pace of his cock. Again. And again.

I broke, the climax washing over me.

He groaned, his body tensed for a long moment as he came. His arms caught his body weight before he could collapse on me.