Chapter 4
Nick
I wasn’t the type to play games. Not with feelings. Not with people.
But her?
She lit a fire in me I didn’t know how to put out.
Every breath she took near me made me want to ruin her. Break past that perfect little exterior and drag out the wild, needy thing I knew was buried under her skin.
So I dropped to my knees.
Not out of worship.
Out of control.
Because I wanted to taste what she tried so damn hard to hide.
I grabbed her thighs and dragged her forward until her knees were flush against my shoulders. The air shifted—thick, electric, volatile.
She sucked in a breath as I slipped my hands beneath her skirt of her dress, pushing the fabric up slowly, deliberately. The soft brush of my fingers on her bare skin made her flinch—not in fear. In anticipation.
Good.
“Nick…” she gasped, voice shaking like she didn’t know whether to stop me or beg me to keep going.
I looked up at her from between her legs, and my voice came out low—gravel and heat.
“Let me have this, princess.” Then I pressed my mouth to the inside of her thigh—not a kiss. A claim.
Her pulse jumped. I could feel it beneath my tongue.
“I’m not gonna take you,” I growled, dragging my teeth just barely along her skin, “unless you beg me to fucking ruin you.”
She froze—eyes wide, lips parted, trembling like I’d just shattered every wall she thought could protect her.
“I…” she whispered, voice cracking. “I haven’t…”
That stopped me.
White-hot clarity slammed into my skull.
She hadn’t done a damn thing with Delgado. No sex. No fumbling. Not even a moment.
She was untouched.
Mine.
Something inside me went feral.
I gritted my teeth, biting back the guttural growl climbing up my throat as I pressed my forehead against her inner thigh, trying to leash the heat clawing under my skin.
I could take her. Right now. Make her forget every man who ever touched her space, ever breathed her air.
But that wasn’t what she needed.
Not yet.
So I kissed higher, slower. Letting her feel every ounce of my restraint.
“You’re safe,” I said, voice hoarse with the weight of what I wasn’t doing. “But make no mistake—you’re mine.”
She bit her lip hard, trying to hold herself together. Her hands gripped my shoulders, and her knees buckled just slightly.
She was unraveling. And I was going to enjoy watching every second of it.
Another kiss. Higher. Softer.
Her breath caught like it belonged to me.
I didn’t want her sweet. I wanted her shattered—in a way no one else could ever put back together.
And the second she was ready to fall?
I’d be right there, pulling her into the flames.
I pressed my mouth against her through the thin lace, the heat of her body searing through the fabric like it was nothing.
She was soaked. Shaking. Absolutely wrecked, and I hadn’t even touched her skin yet.
A low growl rumbled in my chest, vibrating against her core.
“You’re dripping, princess,” I murmured, voice rough and edged in wicked satisfaction. “You know that, don’t you?”
She whimpered—pathetic and perfect—and it hit me straight in the gut.
Her body was betraying every bit of that innocence she tried so damn hard to cling to.
Good. I wanted to tear it from her one moan at a time.
I pressed another kiss to the damp lace, slow and deep, then slid my tongue out—dragged it over the soaked fabric like I had all fucking night to make her fall apart.
“Fuck…” The word left me in a groan, raw and reverent. “You taste like something I shouldn’t touch, and I’m gonna do it, anyway.”
She gasped—back arching, hips shifting like she needed more contact, more friction, more me.
Her hands clutched at my shoulders, nails digging in like I was the only thing tethering her to reality.
I flattened my tongue and licked her again—harder this time. Slower. Dirtier.
Every sound she made turned into gasoline, and I was already the fucking match.
Each swipe of my tongue against her had her squirming—needy, frantic, undone.
She didn’t know what to do with it—with me.
And that?
That drove me insane.
Her breath stuttered out in shaky pants. Her thighs trembled.
Every whimper, every bitten-off moan, every shudder—it all fed the possessive hunger clawing inside me.
“No one’s ever touched you like this,” I muttered against her, lips brushing her soaked panties. “No one ever will.”
I didn’t give her room to speak. Didn’t want her words—just her sounds. Her surrender.
I kept licking her through the lace, every flick of my tongue a promise:
I could make her beg without ever putting a single finger inside her.
And she would.
Eventually.
Her grip on me tightened, like she was about to fall apart.
Good. Let her.
Because this?
This was just the beginning.
I wasn't a patient man.
Never have been. Never fucking would be.
So when she hesitated—even for half a breath—I didn’t wait for permission.
I took.
My fingers hooked under that delicate lace, and I dragged her panties down her thighs slow enough to make her tremble. The fabric whispered against her skin, a teasing contrast to the storm brewing in my chest.
She stepped out of them without a word.
"Good girl."
The second they hit the floor, I pressed my lips against her pussy like it was a goddamn reflex and devoured her.
No hesitation. No warm-up.
Just tongue, heat, and hunger.
The first taste hit me like a fucking shot to the chest—sweet, sinful, wrecked with want.
She gasped, hips jerking, hands grabbing my shoulders like she didn’t know what to do with herself.
I didn’t give her a choice.
I licked deeper, harder, not just to make her moan—to brand her.
To make her body remember this moment every time she even thought about walking away.
Every sound she made was mine.
Every twitch, every gasp, every desperate grip of her fingers in my hair—mine.
I groaned into her, the taste of her coating my tongue like I’d earned it.
Like I’d bled for it.
Because I would.
I’d burn the world for another second of this.
She was shaking. Writhing. Whimpering.
And I didn’t let up.
Didn’t slow down.
Didn’t show mercy.
I slid two fingers along the inside of her thigh—not touching her where she wanted me to, not yet—just enough to let her feel how close I was to taking more.
Let her know she was standing at the edge of the fucking cliff.
“You feel that?” I growled into her, voice muffled by flesh and need. “That’s what it’s like when you’re mine.”
And she was.
Whether she admitted it or not, whether she begged me or ran—I’d already tasted the truth.
She belonged to me.
The heat in her core, the trembling in her thighs, the soft cries she tried to swallow down—that was ownership.
Not flowers.
Not love notes.
Not whispered I-want-yous in the dark.
This. This was how I claimed her.
And I wasn’t stopping until she fell apart all over my tongue, until she shattered and gave me everything.
Every piece. Every breath. Every damn sound.
This wasn’t romance.
This was a fucking reckoning.
She tensed beneath me, every muscle in her body pulling tight like a live wire about to snap.
I could feel her unraveling—taste it—sweet, raw, and pure on my tongue.
And when she shattered?
Fuck.
It wasn’t loud.
It was a quiet, trembling quake that tore through her—her breath hitched, spine arched off the bar, and her legs tried to close around my head like she couldn’t stand the intensity.
Too bad.
I held her open. Kept my mouth locked to her like she was the only goddamn thing keeping me alive.
“Fuck,” I growled against her, the sound guttural, wrecked.
I licked her clean—slow, possessive, every flick of my tongue another brand on her soul.
She tried to push me away, hands scrambling over my shoulders, nails digging in.
Not in fear.
In panic.
Because she knew what this meant.
“We shouldn’t…” She tried to catch her breath. “I can’t believe—” Her voice cracked, and something inside me snapped with it.
I wasn’t done. Not even fucking close.
I looked up at her, face still between her thighs, lips soaked in her.
And I smiled.
Not soft. Not kind.
Feral. Possessive.
“I want another one.”
Her eyes widened—lips parting, heart racing. “Nick—”
I didn’t let her finish.
Didn’t want her logic.
Didn’t care about her hesitation.
I licked her again, slower this time—just to feel her body twitch. Then I slid a finger into her tight, soaked core.
She gasped—sharp and high, hands flying to the bar like she needed to anchor herself to reality.
Too late.
“Fuck, princess,” I breathed, watching every twitch of her face as I started to move. “You’re so tight… gonna have to stretch you open before I ever get my cock in you.”
Her hips rolled against my hand, that instinct she tried so hard to fight now taking the wheel.
Every squeeze around my finger sent a jolt straight to my spine.
I added a second. Didn’t warn her. Didn’t ask.
I watched her eyes flutter shut, watched her lips part in a moan she didn’t mean to let slip.
In and out. In and out. Slow. Deep. Commanding.
Her thighs trembled around my shoulders, trying to close in again.
Nope. I kept her wide open, made her feel every curl of my fingers, every fucking stroke.
She whimpered again, breath stuttering.
Her body was wrecked—sensitive, twitching, dripping for me.
I felt her clamp down again and again like she didn’t know how to handle it.
And I didn’t stop.
Because I was addicted. Already.
And I hadn’t even fucking started.
Her body clamped around my fingers like a fucking vice—tight, wet, desperate.
I felt the second she broke.
Every muscle pulled taut. Her spine bowed off the bar like the ground itself wasn’t enough to hold her.
Then she shattered.
Hard.
A sharp gasp ripped from her throat—raw, unfiltered, real.
And I fucking drank it in.
Her body pulsed around me in waves, soaking my fingers, her breath coming in broken little whimpers like she didn’t know how to handle what I’d just done to her.
Good. I didn’t want her handling it. I wanted her ruined.
“Fuck…” I growled, eyes locked on her flushed face, her parted lips, the tremble still in her thighs.
She was wrecked. Wrecked by me.
I pulled my fingers from her slowly, deliberately, like I was taking a piece of her with me.
Watched her face like a hawk. Waiting for regret.
There was none.
Just that glazed-over look of shock and need.
She was still falling.
I stood, towering over her, letting the heat stay thick between us—letting her feel every inch of it.
Then I leaned down and kissed her—deep. Slow. Dirty.
Let her taste herself on my tongue like the truth it was.
You did this. With me. For me.
She jerked back, eyes wide and lips slick. “I… I can’t…”
I didn’t flinch.
I studied her like I was memorizing her soul—those stormy eyes of hers spinning with panic and want and something that looked a lot like surrender.
“Stay,” I said. Low. Final.
Her brows snapped together. She bristled. “I’m not a dog.”
I smirked, calm and dangerous. “No. But you’re a good girl.” The kind of girl who’d never been seen the way I saw her. “And I don’t touch unless you beg me to.”
That made her pause.
Silence stretched between us like a fuse ready to blow.
She didn’t run. Didn’t speak.
Her throat bobbed—a hard swallow, a flicker of indecision.
I stepped into her space again, voice like a velvet blade.
“You want to run, go ahead. Door’s right there. But if you stay…” I dipped my head, lips grazing her ear. “You’re mine. And you know it.”
The way she trembled?
That was all the answer I needed.
“I’m engaged,” she said, voice trembling like the words could protect her. Like they could undo everything we’d done.
I stepped into her space until she had no choice but to meet my eyes.
“No,” I said, flat and final. “You’re not. Not anymore.”
Her brows pinched, breath hitching like I’d just knocked the wind out of her.
“I don’t fucking share, Kennedy. I already told you.”
I let the words settle—cold and heavy.
“You gave yourself to me. That’s not something you get to take back.”
She wavered, just for a second. I saw it. That flicker in her eyes—desire clawing at her panic.
“I… I made a mistake,” she whispered, but her voice cracked halfway through it.
Bullshit.
Fury surged in my chest like a storm—white-hot and focused. “No. You made a choice.”
She backed up, spine straightening like she was preparing to run.
Run. I fucking dare you.
“I should go,” she muttered, like saying it out loud would make it true.
I grinned. Slow. Cold. Predatory.
“Princess,” I drawled, letting the threat drip from every syllable, “you leave now? Go running back to him?” I cocked my head. “I tell him everything.”
She froze. Turned to face me, eyes wide with disbelief, horror creeping in at the edges. “What?”
“You heard me.” My voice stayed low, steady. Deadly calm. “You walked in here. You let me touch you. You came for me.” I took a step closer. “Now that I’ve tasted you, there’s no walking away.”
“He won’t believe you,” she tried.
I chuckled once—humorless. “Oh, he’ll believe me.” I reached for my phone. “Want to see what I’ll show him?” The corner of my mouth ticked up. “I’ve got the whole thing. You on my tongue. My fingers. Falling apart like you were made for it.”
Her face crumpled, shame and rage and something else crashing into her all at once.
“I have cameras in every hallway, princess. Everywhere.” My voice dipped. “Gotta protect my assets.” I let that hang—long enough for the weight of my meaning to crush her defenses. “That includes you. Should we show him?"
She swallowed hard, lips trembling. “No,” she whispered. Her voice was barely there, but her eyes never left mine.
“Good girl.” I breathed it like praise, like victory. “I’d kill any man who saw you the way I have.”
I let the silence stretch for just a beat. Then came the kill shot.
“You’re going to marry me.” I leaned in, our breaths crashing into each other like fists. “Tomorrow.”