To him it was just an appendage. Another weapon in an arsenal he carried with him at all times. Only now was he aware that he could hurt Honor. That he could frighten her. That his size could very well intimidate her and make her think she wasn’t capable of pleasing him. As if.

“Okay?” he whispered when his dick was halfway inside her silken mouth.

Her eyes answered for her, glowing brightly, a clear invitation for more. Hell, it was a demand. But her hands remained still, just as he knew they would once he’d made the demand. He also knew that she would never stop him, no matter how far he took things, and he was mindful of that every second.

He paused, withdrew and this time pushed with more force, eliciting a gasp as her cheeks bulged outward. But she quickly calmed herself, exhaling through her nose, and he felt her relax around his girth, sucking him further inward.

He withdrew, and each time he thrust farther, gaining more depth, each time measuring her response, looking for any sign that he was pushing too far. Scaring her. Hurting her. And every time, she gave him a hungry look that told him she only wanted more.

Convinced that she wasn’t going to shatter, he finally gave in to the beast inside roaring to take control and find his pleasure. To dominate, take over and take what was his at least for this one night.

Never once did her fingers tighten. Her thumb, instead of pressing into his skin, the signal he’d given her that meant it was too much, caressed him, rubbing lightly in circles, humming around his cock in satisfaction.

Just touching him brought her pleasure.

It baffled him. He didn’t understand this—her—this connection. Her easy acceptance of him. Of what he was. Of his needs that many would call twisted. Sick. Perverse. She accepted them as naturally as she would breathing.

He became rougher, though he was ever mindful of every single injury and where he could and couldn’t touch her.

But then he could stand no more and he framed her face in his large hands and held her firmly, giving her no choice but to kneel there and take whatever he chose to do. He fucked her hard and long, stopping when he was at his deepest and reveling in her swallowing delicately around the head of his dick, sucking down the sips of pre-cum, merely a precursor of what was to come.

He knew she expected him to come in her mouth, but he had other plans. Primitive. Animalistic. All traits he knew existed within the monster he was.

Then he eased out, letting her catch her breath. He glanced down at her, allowing what he felt to show in his eyes. To let her know that she mattered. He’d said it many times, but this time he gave her the evidence. What he never gave anyone else. Himself, unguarded. His eyes not shielded. She gasped and tears gathered in her eyes, then slowly trickled down her face, colliding with the hands that held her so firmly in place.

“I’m going to fuck you hard, Honor,” he said, his voice harsh, laced with drugged passion.

“Please,” she softly entreated as the tip of his dick rested on her lips. “Give me everything, Hancock. I want so badly to please you. To give you back what you gave to me. There is nothing you can do to make me reject you.”

With a guttural cry, he drove hard, almost punishingly to the very back of her throat, stealing her breath. He didn’t bother remaining there. He was so close. So very close to coming. And he wanted this. Fucking her mouth. Marking her. She was his for tonight. And she would know it.

He fucked long and hard. She struggled for breath, but quickly adapted and learned how to breathe as he withdrew. When he felt the first burst of semen splash onto her tongue, his iron control nearly deserted him and he nearly stayed there, filling her mouth with his essence.

Instead he allowed her that taste. Just the one. So she’d go to sleep smelling him, his taste in her mouth.

When he withdrew, she protested and her eyes were hurt, shadowed. As if she thought she’d done something wrong. He caressed her cheek with one hand, holding his engorged cock with the other.

He slid his hand down underneath her chin and lifted, baring her neck, and then he began to pump his dick with his hand, hard, nearly vicious. Thick white ropes splashed onto her neck and then he directed it onto her breasts, coating each one, her nipples and then finally her face, pressing his erection to her satiny flesh so it didn’t just fly all over her skin, uncontrolled, so it didn’t hit her in the eyes.

He smeared his release on her cheeks and then over her lips, coating them like lipstick and then as the last came, he pushed inside her mouth again, deep, hard, and stayed there as he pulsed against the very back of her throat. Spending himself to the very last drop there in the honeyed silk of her luscious mouth.

He could spend forever there.

She licked over his slowly softening shaft, sucking tenderly, as if she knew how hypersensitive he was now that he’d orgasmed. She cupped his balls with one hand, stroking them lovingly as she cleaned every last drop of his semen from his dick.

When he finally slipped free of her mouth, she cupped his waning erection in her palms and pressed a kiss to the head, licking ever so lightly at the slit as she fondled his sac.

Then she looked up at him, her heart in her eyes, tears glistening, tiny diamonds attached to her lashes.

“Thank you,” she whispered in a husky voice. “I’ll never forget this night. Or you.”

CHAPTER 28

HONOR lay nestled in Hancock’s arms, her cheek resting on his chest, his chin atop her head. They lay in silence, Honor’s arm wrapped tightly around Hancock’s waist, wanting to keep him here, next to her, for as long as possible. Every minute that went by was another minute closer to dawn and the end of their night together.

He stroked his fingers through her hair, over and over. Just caressing, absently almost, as if he were pondering something important.

She loved him.

Agony seared through her body, worse than any pain she’d ever experienced. All the injuries, the battering she’d taken in the attack, the bullet she’d taken for Conrad, Bristow’s two attacks on her. Nothing hurt worse than loving this man and knowing that in another day’s time he would turn her over to Maksimov and she’d never see him again.

It was the hardest thing, and it mustered every ounce of her self-control not to weep for all that was lost. But she refused to give in. Because Hancock was hurting too. She knew it. He was quiet. He hadn’t said a single word since he’d gently kissed her forehead after she’d thanked him and had said, “No, my darling Honor. Thank you. You are the first time I’ve ever tasted sunshine.”

Then he’d taken her into the bathroom and into a warm shower where he washed every inch of her body, taking special care with her injuries. He’d even shampooed her hair, massaging gently before rinsing the soap from the long strands. After thoroughly drying her, he’d rebandaged what needed bandaging, applying antibiotic cream and a numbing agent to prevent pain. Then he’d finished drying her hair, taken her into the bedroom and pulled her between his legs as he sat with his back propped against the headboard, and he’d combed the tangles.

She was nearly asleep when he eased her down on her uninjured side and simply wrapped himself around her, tucking her head beneath her chin, and held her.

But neither slept, and neither spoke. What was there to say anyway? They both knew what had to be done. What would be done. And she had only one regret. Just one. Not the attack on the clinic, not her running in constant fear, not Hancock’s initial betrayal, not even Bristow’s attack. Because it had all led to this one beautiful night. No, her only regret was that she only had this one night.