To The Moon and Back

𝟒𝟏 | 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫

L I G H T  Y E A R 

 A unit of astronomical distance equivalent to the distance that light travels in one year.

T O  T H E

M O O N & B A C K

RORY SPINS BACK around, her teeth sinking down into her bottom lip and I feel my skin heat up as she nods her head, not trusting her mouth to do the talking, so she settles upon silence and the slight movement of her head as I slide my hands over the curve of her hips, leaning forward to press my body against hers.

Her height feels so insignificant in comparison to my own, but due to myself being on a slight tilt and her being straight-standing, this gives her a little boost.

It had never occurred to me that it was possible to feel this type of intense rush without being coked out, high as hell on whatever, or just on at least some level of substance-induced fucked. With Rory, I found that she lit a wildfire inside me, one that rivalled my obsessive need to feel good but was far less self-destructive—or that's what I think, anyway.

That fever had been building since we first touched, and having her bound by me had it reaching its peak faster than even I could keep up with.

Now, I stare down at her with that I'm going to fucking ruin you look in my eyes. My hands struggle to find their place as I move them from her hips to her waist, then slide back to grip her firmly in the palm of my hands, tugging her closer.

She tenses as I slowly lift her in one stable and swift movement. "What are you—" before you can finish her sentence, I've already taken a step or two to the left and placed her ass down on the cold metal covering the hood of the vehicle, and ripped her fishnet stockings open.

Again, with the touch-and-go hands that keep attaching themselves to different areas of her body, she makes this strange yet extremely fucking sexy sound made out of the pure breathlessness caused by my fingers languidly brushing over her inner thighs until she made that heavenly noise, I hadn't even realised where my very own hands had ended up.

Like the devil herself—sexy, dark, almost intimidating—she stares into my eyes with those dark eyes of hers which reflect the hundreds of stars in the sky behind me. "God, you're a fucking tease," she exclaims, her nostrils flaring as she fights a smile but I know she finds this just as much fun as I do.

Another frustrated gasp passes through her parted red lips and I lift one hand to bring it to her neck, my thumb supporting her jaw as my fingers wrap around the side of her neck, her skin warm—for once—and instantly I attach my lips to the side of her neck in an attempt to show her how fucking crazy she makes me—how good—no, how bad she is.

Sloppily I trail messy, wet kisses on every inch of exposed skin and I hear the faint sound of fingertips digging into the, fortunately, indestructible exterior of the stranger's car that we are using as though it belongs to us.

Stepping closer, shielding her completely from the front, I detach my starved lips from her skin, taking a split-second to glance in each direction, making sure that no one was around, but this part of town is never very lively. It's the kind of place where you only ever hear glass shattering as they ricochet off walls and bellowing shouts of however many dysfunctional families live here.

I mean, it's not like I give a fuck—fuck, my family is dysfunctional as fuck.

It's a good thing. Because no one is worried about the two horny fucks outside.