Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Novalee
“Ouch.” I groan as I hit the ground for the second time today, my butt absorbing the impact in a way that promises bruises tomorrow. The pavement isn’t exactly forgiving, and I swear it has it out for me.
“That’s going to leave a mark,” Ace says with a laugh, skating up to me and holding out his hand.
“Thanks for the reminder,” I grumble, letting him pull me up.
“You got cocky, baby goat.”
I cringe. “Oh my God, please don’t call me that.”
“All right, Trouble .” His grin widens, and he leans in, brushing a kiss against my lips. “Did you hurt yourself?”
“Just a little.” I dust myself off as Ace reaches behind me, patting my ass to clear away the dirt.
He’s bolder now, and I love it. Every little touch is a victory, a sign that the walls he’s built are starting to crumble. His knuckles trace over my hand here and there, his arm brushes against mine like it’s second nature, and his lips—which offer quick, soft kisses—are addictive.
“Do you want to go another round, or is the lesson done for today?” He smiles as he says it, and I find myself cataloging every detail of him. The lines in his face that weren’t there eight years ago, the faint scars I don’t remember, the way his hair is a little longer now, curling at the ends.
But it’s his lips that capture my attention. There’s a small scar that nicks his bottom lip, and all I can think about is kissing him.
“Maybe we can do a different lesson,” he murmurs. “One I already taught you eight years ago. But this time, I’m the one who needs a refresher.”
My gaze snaps up to meet his. “What?”
“Kiss me,” he demands quickly. “I mean, can I kiss you?”
“Yes,” I whisper, barely able to get the word out as he closes the distance between us.
At first, it’s hesitant, a soft press of his lips against mine, like the ones he’s given the past couple of days. But then he lingers, pressing into me more, and the heat of him seeps in as his lips start to move against mine. Butterflies erupt in my stomach, fluttering wildly as my hands find his chest for balance without thinking, but he doesn’t budge or flinch.
It’s the sweetest kiss, no tongue, no urgency, just lips and shared breaths. It feels like a promise of love whispered in the quiet moments between heartbeats.
All too soon, he pulls back, but the smile he gives me is everything. “I fucking missed you like crazy,” he admits on a breath. “I died that day, eight years ago, even if I kept breathing. You’ve made me come alive again.”
My throat tightens, words failing me as I try to tell him that I feel the same. That I’ve missed him with every piece of my soul. Then the sound of a loud engine tears through the moment, cutting us off.
We turn to see a monstrosity of a white van rolling through the gates. It’s big, boxy, and utterly out of place in front of the mansion. Behind the wheel, grinning like the devil himself, is Sylus.
“Of fucking course,” I mutter, unable to stop the laugh that escapes me while Ace lets out a low chuckle.
Sylus pulls the van to a stop, revs the engine obnoxiously one last time, and rolls down the window. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he calls out. “The getaway ride of your dreams has arrived!”
I look at Ace, who shakes his head with a rueful smile. “You ready to deal with him?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Not really.”
Sylus leans out of the driver’s side window, honking obnoxiously. “Come on, Sparkle! We’ve got shit to do!”
“Go.” I glance back at Ace, who’s watching with an amused smile, so I glide to the mansion steps, swapping my skates for shoes and grabbing my purse. Before I leave, I turn to him again and lean up for a kiss, a quick peck on the lips, the first time I’ve initiated one.
“See you later?” I ask, hoping he hears the promise in my voice.
“Later, Trouble.” His smile is like the sun breaking through clouds, and it’s hard to walk away, but I do.
I run up to Sylus, who waves at Ace with an exaggerated gesture. “We’ll be back soon!”
I hop into the passenger seat, slamming the door behind me. The scent of the van hits me immediately. It’s a mixture of stale coffee, cheap cologne, and something vaguely metallic.
Ew.
“What is this?” I ask, wrinkling my nose as I look around. “It smells bad in here.”
Before I can protest further, Sylus reaches over, his fingers wrapping around my throat in a firm grip. My breath catches as his mouth crashes onto mine. The kiss is messy, dizzying, and completely him —all heat and reckless energy. My fingers curl into his jacket as he steals the air from my lungs, his grip holding me in place like he owns me.
Fuck.
Then, just as quickly, he lets go, his smirk lazy as he shifts back to the wheel, eyes on the road. “That, Sparkle baby,” he says, throwing the van into gear and pulling out of the gate. “Is part of the plan.”
As we merge onto the street, I realize I’m sitting in a car.
And I got in without hesitation.
Almost instantly, the nerves creep in, clawing their way up my chest. My breathing turns shallow, erratic.
“What’s wrong, baby?”
“I… I don’t like to drive in cars,” I manage, gripping my bracelet and focusing on my breath the way Koen taught me. In. Out. Steady.
“Should we turn around and get the bike? I only took the van because we need to pick up some gadgets for it, but if it’s—”
“No, it’s fine,” I cut him off, trying to sound steadier than I feel. “I’ll manage. Can we grab some stuff from my place too?”
“Sure.” Sylus pulls the van to the side of the road and kills the engine. His seat belt clicks as he undoes it, and then he’s leaning over, his fingers undoing mine.
“What are you doing?” I ask as he pulls me into his lap, settling me sideways across his thighs with my back resting against the driver’s side door.
“Keeping you safe.” He fastens the hip seat belt over both of us.
“This doesn’t look safe,” I mutter, though I can feel my body relaxing against him.
His arm wraps around my waist, and he presses a kiss to the side of my neck before starting the engine again. “You feel safer in my lap than over there?”
“Funnily enough, yeah,” I admit. My brain knows this setup is objectively ridiculous and anything but safe, but my body doesn’t care.
“Good.” He squeezes my waist and drives back onto the road. “Now, tell me about your day.”
I glance up at him, raising an eyebrow. “I woke up sticky with cum and sore, only to find some pretty hot pictures of myself on my phone. Turned me on so much, I had to reciprocate the favor.”
Sylus groans, his hand tightening on the wheel as he adjusts his hips under me. “Yeah, I appreciated that. So did Harrington.”
“What?” I snap, sitting up straighter. “Nico? What the fuck? Where even were you? And where did this van come from?”
He smirks, his gaze flicking between me and the road. “Told you I’m going to fix this for you. I’m working on it.”
“And how exactly are you working on it? Showing him dirty pictures and videos of me?”
He gets that far-off look like he’s seriously considering it. Before he can say anything, I bite his cheek—not hard, but enough to make my point. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
He chuckles, entirely unbothered. “It might help. He looked like he wanted to jump through the screen and give you a hand. Which, to be honest, same.”
I think back to the way Nicholas looked at me last night. So damn hurt. I’d much rather see heat in his eyes.
Maybe I should send him a nude.
No. Bad Nova.
Sylus pulls up to my apartment building and parks the van. Then, leading the way upstairs, I unlock the door. Once inside, I motion for him to wait. “Hang on, I need to grab a few things.”
I head straight to the bedroom, crouching down to pull a bag from under the bed. My hand brushes against the velvet box, and I pause, fingers lingering on it. Ace has been so sweet. Maybe it’s time I show him how much I missed him too. I pull the box out and set it on the bed, then start packing—clothes, essentials, everything Sylus missed last time. As I do, it hits me like a freight train.
When did I just start living there?
What the fuck, Nova?
I shake my head, trying to clear the sudden wave of panic. This isn’t the time for an existential crisis.
When I’m done, I notice that the bag is way too fucking heavy for me. “Sylus, can you help me with this, please?”
He steps into the room, grabbing the bag from my hands and slinging it over his shoulder. His gaze catches on the velvet box. “What’s with that?”
“It’s a present for Ace,” I explain, tucking it under my arm.
“Oh, do I get one too?”
I give him a pointed look. “I thought you got one this morning.”
His grin spreads wide. “Hell, yes, I did.”
We bring everything down to the van, where Sylus tosses the bag in the back before hopping in. The drive is short, and I manage it in the passenger seat with a little less anxiety this time, though my fingers still hover over the bracelet.
Finally, we pull up to a small electronics shop near the end of the Strip. Sylus leads the way inside, rattling off terms I don’t understand to the guy behind the counter. They talk like they’re old friends, and while they chat, I wander to the front windows, watching the crowds stroll up and down the Strip—tourists snapping pictures, couples holding hands, groups of friends laughing, Vegas in all its chaotic glory.
Across the street is an old-school arcade with a bright pink vending machine outside. A couple stands in front of it, laughing as they type something into the keypad. The machine spits out a strip of paper, and they share a deep kiss, then walk off, beaming.
“What’s so interesting?” Sylus’s voice is right in my ear, and I jump, spinning around to find him standing there with a cardboard box in his hands, grinning like he caught me red-handed.
“Nothing,” I say quickly, glancing at the machine again and back at him.
Sylus follows my gaze, and his grin spreads. “We’re done here,” he announces abruptly, grabbing my hand and tugging me toward the van. I stumble slightly, caught off guard, as he sets the box down in the back before turning to me again. His hand doesn’t let go of mine as he glances left, then right, and then pulls me across the street.
“Come on, Sparkle,” he says teasingly. “Let’s do something stupid.”
I arch an eyebrow, trying to keep up with his long strides. “I could just do you ,”
He throws his head back with a wicked laugh that sends a thrill skittering down my spine. “ Or… you could marry me, baby.”
I skid to a stop as we reach the pink vending machine, and my eyes flick to the glowing screen. Heart-shaped speakers frame the display, and bold letters ask, Is today your wedding day?
“It’s not legal,” Sylus reassures me quickly, watching me closely. His voice softens, the teasing edge melting away. “Just fun. But, God, I want to marry you. Marry me, Sparkle?”
Marry me.
It’s not real, not legal, just another one of his impulsive, crazy ideas, but he isn’t joking. Not entirely.
It’s ridiculous, really. Sylus Walker, standing in front of a pink vending machine, proposes the most absurd thing with absolute sincerity. And yet, my heart trips over itself, aching in a way that terrifies me.
Because, in some reckless corner of my mind, I don’t want to say no.
I tell myself it’s the adrenaline, the rush of doing something absurd and spontaneous, but deep down, I know better. This man has wormed his way into places I’ve kept guarded for years, and the thought of being his, even like this, has me spiraling in ways I can’t even begin to untangle.
“Tell me, baby,” he murmurs, stepping closer. His hand comes up to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing along my skin and making my heart ache, his lips barely grazing mine. “Yes, no, maybe so?”
“Yes,” I breathe out, the word escaping before I can think. It’s instinctive, unfiltered, and the moment it’s out, his lips are on mine.
The kiss is hard, sudden, and utterly consuming. It’s not just a kiss.
It’s a promise.
A claiming.
A declaration.
His hand slips to the back of my neck, holding me close as if he’s afraid I might disappear.
I won’t.
Never again.
When he finally pulls back, his breath mingles with mine as he grins. “God, I love you,” he whispers, the words so soft I almost don’t catch them. Almost. But they settle deep in my chest, igniting something I’ve been too scared to name until now. Grabbing my hand, he pulls me next to him in front of the machine, his grin wide enough to light up the Strip. “Let’s do this.”
The screen of the machine flickers to life when he pushes the start button.
Welcome!
Let’s get married.
Name of the Groom?
Sylus types in his name with a grin spreading over his whole face.
Sylus Walker.
The screen blinks, then moves to the next question.
Name of the Bride?
Sylus nudges me with his shoulder when I hesitate. “Your turn, Sparkle.”
My fingers hover over the keypad. A nervous laugh bubbles up, but I quickly swallow it, trying to steady the pounding of my heart. It’s just a joke, a silly moment in a city full of them.
But I want this.
Novalee Sparkle Evans
The screen changes again.
Say yes, share your vows, and kiss the bride!
Two big YES buttons light up beneath the question, one for each of us. Sylus presses his without a second’s hesitation. I glance at him, my finger hovering over mine. The way he looks at me, so sure, so open, makes me press the button.
The machine chimes in cheerful confirmation.
Vows.
I need a vow.
My throat feels dry as I clear it, suddenly hyperaware of how fast my heart is beating. My gaze locks on his, and all the teasing falls away. It’s just us, standing on a street corner, making promises to a machine. And yet, it feels like more.
I take a breath, and the words come without me even thinking. “You’re my person. Forever. I’ll never get enough of you.”
His grin softens, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say his gray eyes have a sheen of tears in them. He holds out his pinky, and I hook mine around it. “You’re not just my person. You’re the owner of my heart. You own me .”
We press our joined fingers to our lips, sealing the vows with a shared breath of laughter before Sylus gives me the softest kiss he’s ever given me.
A sudden click pulls us apart, both of us startled. I blink, my lips still tingling from the kiss.
“What was that?” I ask, glancing around.
Sylus grins as the machine spits out a glossy photo. He snatches it up and hands it to me with a flourish. It’s us, pinkies intertwined, kissing like the world around us doesn’t exist. Smiling against each other’s lips. We look… happy. Genuinely, stupidly happy. And the sight of it does something to my chest, like my heart’s trying to burst through my ribs.
Congratulations to the happy couple!
The machine hums again, spitting out a second piece of paper. Its tiny printer whirs, and Sylus grabs the paper eagerly.
Certificate of Marriage for Novalee Sparkle Evans and Sylus Walker.
He looks at it like he’s won the lottery, his grin so wide it’s almost boyish. “You can keep the picture.” He holds the certificate up triumphantly. “I’m keeping the piece of paper that tells me you’re mine.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And yet, you said yes.” His eyes mischievously glint as he folds the paper with deliberate care and slides it into his wallet like it’s a priceless treasure.
He grabs my hand again and pulls me across the street to the van. Opening the door with a casual swing, he gestures for me to climb in. “Come on, wifey . Let’s get you home. I need to consummate this union.”
I snort. “Ridiculous indeed.”
“And yet, here we are,” he quips, putting his hands on my hips to help me hop in.
With a laugh, I slide into the seat, still clutching the photo. I keep glancing down at it the entire ride, tracing the outlines of our smiles, the joy captured by that silly machine. My anxiety is surprisingly quiet. It’s like my mind is too busy replaying the last few minutes, the absurdity, the sweetness, to let fear take the wheel.
When we pull up to the mansion, Sylus hops out first, grabbing my bag and purse without a word. I climb out after him with my box, holding it carefully in my hands as we head inside, making our way to the second floor. Instead of going to his bedroom, he continues down the hall to a door I’ve never seen open.
“Wait here,” he softly commands as he opens it and steps inside, setting my bag down on the floor and my purse on the bed.
I linger in the hallway, peeking in hesitantly. It’s a guest room, neutral colors, simple decor.
Sylus takes the box from my hands, placing it on the dresser next to the door. He turns to find me still standing at the threshold, an eyebrow raised.
“Where are we?”
“Your new room,” he says matter-of-factly. “At least for now. Ric figured you’d want your own space if you’re going to be around us all the time until shit goes down.”
I blink. Of course, Ace would think of that. He knows me too well—knows how much I value even a sliver of independence. It’s thoughtful, so typically him.
But the truth is, being with them, being in their rooms, surrounded by them, their teasing, their heat, doesn’t bother me at all. Not in the way I thought it might. Instead, it’s a balm to the raw edges of loneliness I’ve carried for so long.
This sense of belonging, of being part of something bigger than myself, is what I’ve missed most in the last eight years. For the first time in forever, I don’t feel like I’m simply existing.
I’m… home.
Fuck.
Sylus sweeps me up into a bridal carry, making me squeal in surprise.
“What the hell are you doing?” I laugh, swatting at his shoulder.
“Carrying my bride over the threshold,” he replies with mock seriousness, kicking the door closed behind him. “You know, tradition and all that.” He sets me back down on the floor before flopping on the bed, legs splayed out. “Wanna consummate this union now, or do I have to wait for our honeymoon?”
I snort, grabbing my purse from next to him and digging through it for lip balm. “Patience, hubby. You’re already getting all the benefits of a marriage without the divorce papers.”
“Have some mints in here?” He reaches over and snatches my purse out of my hand, rummaging through it like a raccoon in a trash can. I let him dig, rolling my eyes as he mutters commentary to himself.
“A wallet, some glitter, a half-eaten granola bar… Jesus, Sparkle, is this from the Ice Age?” He pulls out a small tin, rattling it next to his ear. “Jackpot.”
“You don’t want one of those.”
“Why not?” He squints at the tin like he’s just uncovered contraband. “Are they drugs? Adderall? Am I married to a secret drug dealer?”
“You lunatic.” I chuckle, coming to stand in front of him. “They’re mints.”
He pops the lid open, peering inside. “What’s the catch, then?”
“They’re… very sour. Like, make-your-mouth-water-like-crazy sour.”
“Oh, for when you get a fuzzy mouth from weed?”
“No p e.” I grin, popping the P.
He gives me a side-eye, clearly waiting for more. I draw it out, biting my lip, then drop my voice to a husky whisper. “Wanna get the best, sloppiest blowjob of your entire life?”
His jaw drops, and his eyes go wide while they glaze over with pure, unfiltered lust. “Holy shit. Yes. Please. ”
“Since you ask so nicely.” I grab a mint from the box and slip it onto my tongue. The sourness hits immediately, a burst of citrus floods my mouth with saliva and my cheeks hollow.
Sylus watches me with rapt attention, his chest rising and falling faster now. I part my lips, letting him see the way my mouth is already pooling with spit.
His head tilts back like he’s been hit. A groan rips from his throat, and he drags a hand through his messy hair like he’s trying to physically keep himself tethered. “Jesus, baby,” he rasps, his voice wrecked.
Before I can react, he surges forward so fast I have to step back, and he nearly fumbles, shoving his jeans down. His hands are jerky, desperate like he’s too far gone to function properly. His urgency makes me chuckle.
He’s already hard, thick, and flushed, his tattooed tip glistening.
I sink to my knees in front of him, and the second I do, he lets out the filthiest, neediest sound I’ve ever heard from him, a sound that shouldn’t be so fucking hot but is.
His fingers are suddenly in my hair, too tight, almost painful, but I love it.
I breathe warm air against his cock, teasing him, watching the way his abs flex and thighs tighten beneath my palms. “You ready, hubby ?” I purr, running my tongue slowly along the underside of his shaft, letting my saliva coat him.
Then I wrap my lips around the tip, swirling my tongue in slow, deliberate circles, and his whole body jolts like I just short-circuited his brain.
“Shit, Sparkle,” he chokes out, his voice shaking. “That feels…” He barely gets the words out before his breath stutters, a wrecked groan spilling from his lips. “Fuck-fu—” His jaw clenches so hard it looks painful, and his fingers spasm in my hair.
I hum around him, and his reaction is instant. His hips jerk forward, his control snapping for just a second before he manages to rein himself in, his entire body locked tight with the effort.
I bob my head, taking him deeper with every stroke, my saliva slicking his cock until it glistens, my hand wrapping around the base to stroke what my mouth doesn’t reach. The mint still makes my mouth flood, and the wet, lewd sounds echo in the room—slick, sloppy, and utterly obscene. Spit drips from my lips, sliding down my chin.
“Holy fuck,” he groans. “It’s so fucking wet. You’re so goddamn filthy, baby.” His breath hitches as he looks down like he’s witnessing something life-altering as saliva pools at the corners of my lips, smearing down his shaft as I take him deeper.
I let him have his moment, then slowly pull back, his cock slipping from my mouth with a wet pop. The sheer wreckage in his expression makes my thighs clench. His lips part on a ragged breath, and spit clings to the tip of his cock, a thin string still connecting us.
His entire body is shaking.
Spit dribbles from my chin, and I let it drip messily onto him before taking him back into my mouth.
And then he moves.
Too fast. His hands are back in my hair, gripping, his pupils nearly swallowing the silver of his irises as he pulls me forward, almost like he’s chasing my mouth.
I brace a hand on his stomach and pull back. “Ah-ah,” I murmur, a teasing edge in my voice, but there’s steel underneath. “Slow down.”
He blinks like he’s trying to resurface, trying to stop himself from completely losing control. His chest heaves, his fingers twitching against my scalp.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” he breathes out. His hands loosen, and he drags them down my arms, squeezing like he needs to ground himself. “Fuck, you’re gonna kill me, Sparkle.”
“Nope, surviving. Remember?”
He chuckles when I lean in and lick up his dick again. “I need to brand this view into my brain.” Then I take him deep. “ Jesus. Fucking. Christ. ”
A grin curls my lips as I slowly pull back. His cock slips from my mouth with a wet pop, and he lets out a tortured groan.
“Don’t worry, hubby ,” I tease, “I’m going to document this for our wedding album. ”
I pull out his phone from his jeans that are still half on, open the camera, and let his cock rest against my lips, my tongue peeking out to tease the underside. I angle the camera just right and snap a selfie that will haunt him for-fucking-ever, his thick length glistening with my spit against my mouth, making the star on his tip appear deep black.
He groans like a man on the verge of a breakdown. “Holy- fucking -shit, baby.”
“It’s a masterpiece, really.” I glance at the photo, satisfied with the filthiness of it, the sheen of saliva on my chin, the lust- drunk look in my eyes, the flushed, hard proof of how much he wants me. Sylus is fucking wrecked, and it’s the best fucking thing I’ve ever seen.
So, I turn the phone around to show him, and his jaw drops.
“ Jesus, ” he croaks, his hips twitching like he’s fighting the urge to thrust into the air. “That’s… that’s fucking criminal. You’re a menace.”
I wink, throwing the phone onto the bed, letting my fingers trail down his cock, wrapping around the base. “You love it.”
“I do.” He laughs a shaky, breathless sound. “I really fucking do.”
I kiss the star on the tip, my tongue flicking out to taste him again. “Then let me finish ruining you.”
I take him back into my mouth, sliding down inch by inch, and his fingers are back in my hair while his hips jerk as if he has lost control over himself.
“You’re so fucking good at this.” A deep groan leaves his lips. “So fucking sloppy and perfect. Look at you, fuck, swallowing my cock like you were made for it.”
I pull back just enough to take a few panting breaths. Spit drips down his shaft, pooling at his base, and I flick my tongue over the head, my eyes locked on his. “I was made for it.”
“ Fuck .” His eyes roll back. “Don’t say stuff like that unless you want me to lose it again.”
I chuckle and take him back into my mouth, pushing down until he hits the back of my throat and my nose touches his pelvis. A broken moan tears from his lips as I stay there, swallowing around him, feeling him throb against my tongue.
Good thing I don’t have a gag reflex anymore.
“Sparkle, fuck, I can’t… you’re gonna make me—”
I slide my hands up his thighs, encouraging him, and he gets the message. His control snaps completely, and he starts to thrust, shallow at first, then deeper, his cock sliding down my throat. I relax, letting him take what he needs. Then he starts fucking my face with a wild, helpless rhythm. Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, but I don’t care. I’m drowning in the sounds he makes—the shaky moans, the broken gasps that tumble out of him like he can’t hold them back.
I can’t help but moan and hum around his length as need burns through me, igniting a flurry of desire. My clit tingles, and I’m desperate for friction, but this is for him.
Him using me for his pleasure makes me so fucking wet.
“God, yes. Just like that. Your mouth, shit, it’s everything.”
He fucks my mouth with abandon, and the wet, sloppy sounds grow louder. Then he yanks me back on my hair, his cock slipping from my mouth with a wet gasp. I blink up at him, spit and tears all over my face. His chest heaves, and his eyes take on a wild sheen.
“Stop,” he pants out. “We have to stop. You’re fucking overqualified for this, and I still want to fuck your pussy.”
He releases my hair, his hands going to his shirt, and in one swift motion, he yanks it over his head. Then, with a tenderness that surprises me, he uses it to wipe my face.
The cotton drags gently over my skin, erasing the mess of tears and spit, his fingers brushing my jaw as he tilts my chin slightly to clean me. It’s as if this moment, this care, is more important than the fire crackling between us.
When he’s satisfied, he tosses the shirt aside without a second thought, leaving me staring at him as he stands above me. Every inch of him is lean and taut, sweat slicking his skin. His jeans and boxers hit the floor next, pooling around his ankles, and he kicks them off.
I barely have time to process the glorious sight of him before his hands are on me, pulling me to my feet. His fingers slide under my shirt, lifting it up and off, also making quick work of my bra.
Sylus’s hands skim down my body, lingering at my waistband for a second, then he peels off my jeans and panties in one smooth motion. I’m left standing in front of him, completely bare, my body trembling with need.
“Look at you.” His eyes rake over me. “You’re so damn perfect.”
His hand slides between my thighs, his fingers parting me, and he groans as he feels how wet I am. “Hello, beautiful, have you been aching for me while she was choking on my cock?”
“Are you talking to my pussy?”
“Shh, I’m talking to my favorite body part of yours.” He breathes deeply, his fingers teasing my entrance, circling but not pushing in. “You’re already dripping. How are you this fucking wet?”
I grip his shoulders, my nails biting into his skin as my hips roll into his touch, a soft whine escaping me. “Because you haven’t fucked me yet, and I need you.”
“Yeah? You need me to fuck you, baby?”
I nod, biting my lip. “I was promised to be railed against a wall until a little puddle forms at your feet.’”
“You’ve been thinking about that, haven’t you?” His eyes darken, that wicked grin spreading across his face like he’s already imagining it. “Couldn’t get it out of your pretty little head?”
I shake my head, breathless. “Not since you told me it’s your favorite.”
In a heartbeat, his arms slide under my thighs, lifting me effortlessly. My legs wrap around his waist, and his cock presses hot and hard against me. He walks me backward until my back hits the cool wall, making me gasp.
He adjusts his grip, one hand holding my thigh so tight his fingertips press into my skin, the other guiding the head of his cock to my entrance. “Say yes a second time for me today, Sparkle baby.”
“God, yes,” I breathe out on a whimper. “Please.”
He thrusts up into me in one smooth, deep stroke. My body arches, my head falling back against the wall as he fills me completely. The stretch is perfect.
“Fuck,” he groans out, his forehead dropping to my collarbone. “You’re so fucking tight.”
He pulls back almost all the way, then slams into me again, his hips snapping with a force that steals my breath. I cling to his shoulders as my nails dig into his skin, and he sets a brutal rhythm, his cock pounding into me, hitting every perfect spot inside me.
“F-fuck,” I cry out, my legs trembling around his waist. “Harder, Sylus. Please.”
“Harder?” he pants out, adjusting his angle and gripping my ass tighter, thrusting into me harder, deeper. The sound of his hips slapping against my soaked flesh fills the room, lewd and filthy. “You want me to fuck you until you’re dripping all over me?”
“Yes!” I sob, my body shivering, every nerve ending ablaze.
His mouth crashes against mine as his tongue thrusts in time with his hips. When he pulls back, his lips are swollen and his eyes wild. “You’re taking me so fucking good, baby.” He groans, his hand sliding down to rub my clit. “My perfect little wife. ”
The pressure on my clit sends sparks up my spine, the pleasure twisting tighter.
“Sylus, I… I’m gonna—”
“Come for me,” he growls out, his thrusts becoming erratic. “You’re the only one who gets to come on this cock ever again.”
Holy shit.
His fingers press harder, circling my clit, and I shatter. A loud moan rips from my throat, my body locking up as wave after wave of white-hot pleasure crashes over me. My pussy clenches around him, milking his cock, and a gush of wetness spills out of me, drenching him.
“ Fuck !” he roars, his hips jerking as he slams into me one final time. His cock pulses, heat spilling deep inside me as his body trembles with the force of his release.
We stay there, panting, our bodies slick with sweat, his forehead resting against mine. His arms tighten around me while his cock is still buried deep, anchoring us together.
A breathless chuckle escapes him. “I’d ask you to marry me right now if you hadn’t already.”
“You know…” I rest my head against his shoulder, my fingers tracing lazy circles along his damp skin, “… if that’s what being your wife feels like, I might just let you keep me.”
His lips press to my temple, his breath a warm promise against my skin. “ Forever, Sparkle.”
And God, if that doesn’t sound like the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.