Accidentally Yours (Merffy Kizzmet) novel Chapter 50

Enzo groaned.

Jesus fucking Christ.

He reached down to tug the last barrier from his hips and barely got them off before she sank down onto him in one aching, desperate stroke.

His brain flatlined.

“Fuck,” he hissed, fingers digging into her hips.

Her head dropped back with a soft cry–raw and breathless–like she’d been holding it in for hours.

He could feel the tremble in her thighs, the tightness in her core as she gripped him like her body was trying to keep him there.

She wasn’t moving slow. She wasn’t teasing.

She was taking.

Grinding down with abandon, skin slapping softly in the quiet room, her breath catching every time he hit that deep spot inside her.

He held her steady, palms wide on her waist, letting her use him however she needed.

Lets burn it out, baby. Let it all go.

Because he could feel it in her body–the sorrow she wouldn’t say, the ache riding the edge of pleasure like it had nowhere else to go.

“Lola,” he rasped, trying to ground her. “I’ve got you. I’m here.”

She leaned forward, hands bracing on his chest as her pace faltered, as her breath turned to broken little gasps.

“I know,” she whispered, voice thick with emotion. “I feel it.”

And fuck if that didn’t nearly undo him.

His hands slid up to her back, holding her to him as she rocked harder, faster–like she was chasing the edge before the sadness could catch up.

She clenched around him, her whole body bowstring–tight, then shattered with a soft, almost–silent cry–face buried in his neck, hands fisting his shoulders like she was scared to let go.

He followed with a growl–hips bucking up into her, white heat bursting behind his eyes as he came with a violent, aching rush.

They collapsed together.

Breathless.

Spent.

Shaking.

She didn’t move.

1/3

Chapter 50

Just stayed curled on top of him, face tucked into his neck, body still trembling softly like her soul hadn’t caught up with her yet.

He didn’t ask.

Didn’t press.

He just held her.

Brushed a hand up and down her back and whispered into the dark.

“Whatever it is, you don’t have to carry it alone.”

Lola 7:08AM

That would’ve been easier. Tears had direction. An exit route. But this–this was a vice around her ribs, a low, hot pressure that built without release. Like something was trying to crawl out of her chest with no mouth to scream.

Enzo was wrapped around her, all heat and muscle and quiet breath against the back of her neck. His hand was splayed across her stomach, thumb just barely brushing the curve of her hip. His leg hooked over hers like they’d been sleeping this way for years.

It had barely been a few days.

She was six when they started calling it a game.

“Lola, baby, come tell Daddy’s friend what you think about those stocks he mentioned.”

It got worse.

They sold her guesses. Bragged about her recall. Their friends bet money on her advice. She never got it wrong–not once. She thought that made her special.

Until one night, someone offered to buy her.

“It’s not like she’s a regular child.”

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