Chapter Thirty-four #2
He lifts me effortlessly, my legs wrapping around his waist without thought, muscle memory taking over. The towel finally gives up, falling away as if it never mattered. Now we are eye to eye, breath to breath, his gaze burning so intensely it feels like it might scorch.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, voice rough, strained.
“I didn’t know it mattered,” I breathe, my lips hovering just shy of his.
He hesitates. I can feel it. The war inside him. The question he is still asking himself. Is it me, or is it the serum?
But I know the answer.
“I want you,” I say again, clearer this time.
His arms tighten around me, tattooed forearms solid and sure. My breasts press against his chest, my heartbeat racing where he can feel it.
“Yeah?” he murmurs, his voice brushing my mouth.
“Yeah.”
His hand squeezes my ass, firm, grounding, sending a sharp pulse of pleasure straight through me. My breath stutters.
“Show me,” he says quietly, dangerously, his voice thick with restraint unravelling.
I do not hesitate.
I kiss him.
I kiss him like I have been holding my breath for weeks. Like he is the only thing tethering me to the ground. I open my mouth, inviting him, and he responds instantly, exploring me with a hunger he has been denying himself for far too long.
His hand slides into my hair, holding me there, deepening the kiss, claiming without force. I moan softly when he presses closer, my body reacting to his without permission.
At some point, I realize the world has shifted. My back meets the warm stone wall of the sauna, heat seeping into my skin, into my bones. He kisses me again. And again. And again.
Like he cannot stop.
Like he has been starving.
Like I am everything he needs.
He moves from my lips to my chin, unhurried, like he knows exactly what the waiting does to me. Then his mouth finds my neck, and I give him everything. I tilt my head back, exposing myself, offering without words.
His lips close around my breast and my vision fractures.
“Oh,” I moan, the sound breaking out of me as he sucks my nipple, hard enough to make my knees weak. One of his hands cups my other breast, kneading it slowly, possessively, while his mouth devours the first like he has been starving. Heat floods my body, spreading fast, slick, uncontrollable.
“I need more,” I gasp, my voice trembling. I am too sensitive, too open, every nerve ending screaming for him. I need him to touch me where I am already aching.
His hand slides between my thighs.
I gasp as his fingers find me, spreading the wetness there with slow, deliberate strokes, up and down, teasing, almost cruel in its patience. I am so sensitive it borders on pain, my body desperate, needy, shaking beneath his touch.
“I can’t fuck you, baby girl,” he murmurs against my ear while his fingers circle me just enough to make my breath hitch.
Then he pulls away.
My eyes roll back in frustration.
“Please,” I whisper. It is all I can manage.
He does not answer. He opens the sauna door instead, heat spilling out as he carries us both inside. He lays me back against the hot surface, the contrast overwhelming, my skin already flushed, already burning. He kneels between my legs, lifting them effortlessly onto his shoulders.
His mouth kisses my thighs slowly, deliberately, and I feel his breath there, hot and close, making my entire body tense in anticipation. The heat of the sauna amplifies everything. Every sensation. Every need.
And then his mouth finds me.
I cry out, the sound torn from my chest as pleasure crashes over me, too much, too fast. His tongue moves against me with intention, slow at first, then teasing, then deeper, more insistent.
He plays with me like he knows exactly how close I am to unravelling, sucking, licking, biting just enough to make my toes curl and my back arch.
My fingers bury into his hair, holding him there, needing more, needing him closer.
“Did you miss my tongue in your sweet pussy, Serena?” he asks, lifting his head just enough for me to see his eyes on me, blue and dark and hungry.
“Yes,” I breathe, already losing control, the pressure building low and tight in my stomach.
He does not need anything else. His mouth alone is enough. The way he works me, the way he knows me, sends me spiralling.
“Tell me,” he breathes, voice thick with something raw and almost broken. “Tell me you tried to forget.” His mouth brushes closer, like he can’t stop himself. “Tell me you failed.” His eyes darken. “Tell me you still fucking need me.”
Another flick, another pull, his other hand squeezing my breast, rougher now.
My vision blurs. I cannot think.
He sucks harder, bites lightly, then soothes it again, pleasure and pain blending until my entire body is trembling. Sweat slicks my skin. I am completely undone.
“Oh, please,” I cry, my voice breaking.
“Always so needy,” he murmurs, tasting me again, and that is it. The tension snaps. The orgasm hits hard and fast, ripping through me without mercy.
“Let me taste you,” he whispers. “Let it go.”
His mouth moves faster, deeper, relentless, and I scream his name as everything shatters, my body giving in completely, helpless, shaking as pleasure floods me.
I come undone, completely.
He lifts his head slowly, licking his lips, eyes still locked on mine, dark with satisfaction.
Then he gathers me into his arms and carries me out of the sauna, my body limp, boneless, overwhelmed, my head spinning.
I feel like I might pass out.
As we step out of the sauna “Renegade” by Aaryan Shah is playing, the cold air from the conditioner crashes over my overheated skin, sharp enough to pull a shaky breath from my chest. It wakes me just enough to realize how weak my legs are.
I try to stand.
I don’t get far.
His fingers catch my chin, firm, possessive, lifting my face until my eyes are forced to meet his. The intensity in his gaze makes my pulse jump. I can’t help but notice how hard he is, how his body betrays him completely.
“Not enough, is it, baby?” he asks softly.
My body answers before my mouth can. A deep, needy pulse between my legs.
I shake my head.
He watches me for a moment, then turns away, moving toward the cabinet near the spa bed. He reaches inside, grabs something, and steps back, stopping just far enough to make the distance feel unbearable.
His eyes find mine again.
“Crawl.”
The word hits me low and hot.
And I do it.
I lower myself to the floor and crawl toward him slowly, deliberately, aware of how exposed I am, how desperate my body feels. I stop in front of him, waiting, my need heavy and obvious.
He looks down at me, satisfaction darkening his expression.
“You give yourself away so sweetly,” he murmurs. “Such an obedient little whore when I ask.”
There it is.
The word I have been craving from him.
“Yes,” I whisper.
He grips my chin again, angling my face up. I feel him close now, overwhelming, my mouth watering instinctively. I lean in, licking the tip of him, slow and deliberate.
His hand tightens in my hair, pulling my head back.
“Impatient,” he smirks.
I lick my lips, keeping my eyes locked on his as his face hardens, control slipping just enough to show me how much he wants this.
“Want to suck my cock, Serena?” he asks, voice firm.
I nod.
He leans in, voice rough. “Answer me properly,” he says. “Because I’m not planning on letting you talk much longer.”
“Yes,” I breathe, my lips brushing him.
Music hums through the room, low and aching, and his hands cradle my face as he positions me more comfortably on the spa bed. Something cool presses between my legs and my breath stutters as realization hits.
A toy.
He smirks when my reaction gives me away.
“I need your eyes on me when I fuck your mouth,” he says quietly.
I try. Gosh, I try. But the pressure builds, overwhelming, stealing my focus.
“Tell me what you want,” he commands.
“Can you fuck me,” I manage, my voice breaking. “Please?”
“Open.”
I obey.
The stretch, the pressure, the way he fills my mouth while the sensation between my legs intensifies makes my head spin. Tears gather in my eyes, my body shaking as I struggle to take him, to give him everything.
“Fuck,” he hisses, voice strained, wrecked. “You’re taking me so well. I need you to take all of me, okay, baby?”
The rhythm turns brutal. Unforgiving. The pressure between my legs builds until my thoughts fracture, my breath stutters, my body reduced to sensation. I feel used. Needed. Owned in the way I crave most.
I love it.
I love it shamelessly.
Every filthy second of it.
My nails dig into him, greedy, desperate, trying to pull him closer, trying to take more of his cock than my body should be able to handle. That’s when his hand tangles in my hair, grip tight, unyielding.
“You’re being such a good girl,” he growls. “But I can’t hold it anymore.”
My body clenches in response, the warning unmistakable.
“I’m going to fuck your throat,” he continues, voice dark, dangerous. “Be good for me and take it.”
I nod, helpless, breathless, surrendering to the way he moves, the way he uses me without mercy. His cock presses deep, relentless, stealing my breath, my control, my dignity in the most delicious way.
“Fuck,” he snarls. “You’re killing me.”
I do exactly what he wants. Exactly what he needs. My body responds instinctively, tightening, holding him until the tension snaps.
Everything breaks.
The release hits me like a violent wave. My body locks, shakes, heat ripping through me so hard I can’t even scream. I’m gone, completely undone, vision blurring as pleasure crashes over me without warning.
When it’s over, I’m a mess.
Hair tangled. Makeup ruined. Lips swollen. Breath coming in broken gasps. My body slack, boneless, used.
He doesn’t leave me like that.
He pulls me into his lap immediately, grounding me, holding me like he refuses to let me fall apart alone. His mouth brushes my ear, his voice low, intimate, filthy.
“You’re so fucking beautiful.”
A shiver tears through me.
“If I wasn’t so fucking aware of my jealousy, of how deeply obsessed I am,” he says quietly, his touch tracing a slow, condemning line down my spine, “I’d have you captured just like this.”
His voice lowers, rough with something unsteady. “Stripped of dignity. Open. Completely undone for me.”
His mouth presses to my skin, gentle enough to feel like a threat. “So I could remember the truth of you,” he continues softly. “The girl who stops pretending she’s anything else.”
His thumb digs in, claiming, approving.
“Because in private, you let me ruin you the way you need, let me tell you what you are until it sinks in.” A breath, dark and reverent. “My filthy whore. The one who melts when I talk to her like this. The one who glows when I take her apart with words.”
He smiles faintly, almost fond.
“And you’re exquisite that way,” he murmurs. “You wear it beautifully. You were made to be mine like this.”
A pause. “But in public?” His voice turns amused, proud.
“You walk me like a dog.”
His lips brush my skin again, worship threaded through the cruelty. “And I love you most for knowing exactly when to kneel, and when to hold the leash.”
The words shouldn’t feel tender.
But wrapped in his arms, spent and claimed, they do.
And I melt into him completely.