Chapter 36 Lochlan
Lochlan
She was his home.
The thought hit Lochlan like a sucker punch, knocking the breath from his lungs.
He hadn’t planned for this—the warmth that settled low in his chest every time she looked at him, the ache that refused to be ignored.
He’d learned so much in Dover: the truth of his sister’s misplaced cruelty, pieces of his mother’s past, the realization that his relationship with Thane was only just beginning.
He had finally let go of the pain he’d carried for so long, it had become a part of him.
But none of this compared to the quiet certainty of being with Nia.
Her laughter still hummed in the air, low and throaty, and the sound curled inside him, leaving him feeling warm and restless in their dimly lit booth. She was still flushed from their kiss, and her fingers pressed a little higher up his leg, staking her claim.
Goddess help him.
Even as he basked in her closeness, guilt flickered through Lochlan as he thought about Wulfric’s plans, Luna’s diaries, and the threat to his job and livelihood if he didn’t keep these secret.
A seed of deceit had sprouted and grown between him and Nia.
But he pushed these thoughts away, telling himself that if he could just finish the diaries—and give Nia that piece of her mother’s life—maybe it wouldn’t matter he’d kept it from her.
Maybe.
Nia was in her element here, the faint pulse of the club lights casting her in a glow, her lips quirking in a mischievous way that made Lochlan’s thoughts scatter.
And those eyes—gods, those eyes. Green and teasing, they locked on him with a focus that made the air between them feel heavy and charged as her body leaned ever so slightly closer.
What was he supposed to do? Be thoughtful? Assertive?
As if reading his mind, Nia leaned in, her lips heated, possessive, her tongue finding his with an urgency that left him dizzy.
Lochlan groaned, his hand sliding up her side to tangle in her hair as her nails scraped lightly against his leg, a silent taunt that had him cursing softly against her mouth.
The tight space, the press of bodies in the club beyond, the low thrum of music vibrating in his chest—it all faded until there was only her.
Her taste reminded him of fairy wine, dark and heady, her kisses leaving him drunk and aching.
His body responded before he could stop it, his cock straining against his jeans as her hand shifted dangerously close.
She must have felt it, because her grin against his lips was pure mischief.
Her teeth grazed his bottom lip before she shifted her attention to his neck, her lips and tongue finding the sensitive skin just below his ear.
Lochlan’s hand tightened in her hair as she kissed her way down, her teeth nipping lightly at his pulse.
“I’m going to lose my mind,” he muttered, half to himself, half to her.
Nia laughed softly, pleased.
His eyes darted to the shadowed corners of the club, searching for something—anything—that could give them some semblance of privacy. But there wasn’t much in a place like this, and Nia was in pants: tight, unforgiving pants that made it impossible to do what he wanted to do.
“What’s wrong, Loch?” she murmured, her breath warm against his skin.
Her lips found the hollow of his throat, her tongue teasing against his skin as she pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. “What are you looking for?” she asked, her voice low and playful.
“A place where I can peel those pants down and taste that pretty little—”
Nia didn’t let him finish. She silenced him with a kiss, her lips slanting over his with a fervor that made him groan. Her hips shifted slightly, and the faint sound she made—a soft, breathy moan against his mouth—nearly drove him over the edge.
Grabbing Lochlan’s hand, Nia pulled him out of the booth. The noise and lights of the club blurred around them as she led him toward a door tucked discreetly near the back. His heart hammered, his body buzzing from her touch, her kiss, the promise in her eyes.
She pushed the door open and stepped inside, tugging him after her. It was a small office, cluttered but private, the faint scent of old paper and spilled alcohol lingering in the air.
Lochlan glanced around, his brow furrowing as Nia flipped the lock.
“Are we allowed in here?”
She turned to him, her lips curving into a smirk that sent a shiver down his spine. “The owner owes me a few favors. Looks like it’s time to collect one.”
Before he could respond, she was on him, her hands gripping the front of his shirt as his back hit the door with a soft thud, the sound swallowed by the sensation of her lips moving against his.
His hands moved to her waist, as he turned her, guiding her back against him in one smooth motion.
The soft gasp she gave sent a jolt of satisfaction through him, and he tightened his grip, fingers pressing into her hips as if daring her to pull away.
She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes dark with heat, the corner of her mouth curving into a knowing smirk that made his breath hitch.
“Don’t keep me waiting,” she murmured.
He didn’t need to be told twice.
Lochlan’s hands moved to the waistband of her pants, his fingers finding the button and peeling them down with care. The sight of her bare skin beneath sent a rush of heat through him, and he swallowed hard as she bent slightly, bracing herself against the edge of the desk.
He dropped to his knees behind her, his hands steadying her hips as he leaned in, his breath grazing her skin. Lochlan didn’t hesitate, his tongue flicking out to taste her, and the sound she made—a sharp gasp followed by his name—nearly unraveled him.
“Nia,” he murmured against her, his voice reverent, thick with need. He buried himself there, his tongue moving in slow, deliberate strokes, savoring her taste. She was intoxicating, every sigh and moan she gave spurring him on.
Lochlan’s hands slid up her thighs, his grip firm, keeping her steady as he continued, his own moans muffled against her skin.
“Loch,” she gasped, her voice strained, her hips moving involuntarily against him.
He groaned into her, the sound sending a shudder up her spine he could feel as his hands gripped her hips, holding her steady, keeping her exactly where he wanted her.
He could stay here forever—drowning in her, unraveling her inch by inch—but her legs were shaking, her body strung tight, every muscle locked as she fought to stay upright.
Her breath hitched, her moans edged with desperation. He felt it—knew it—the tension coiling low in her belly, winding tighter with every lick of his tongue, every maddeningly slow stroke.
And then he eased off.
A teasing drag. A lingering kiss to her backside. A deliberate pause that sent her keening against the desk, her fingers gripping the edge so tightly her knuckles had gone white.
“Loch,” she gasped, her voice raw with frustration.
He savored the way her body trembled, the way she pushed back as if she could chase his mouth, as if she could force him to give her what she needed.
Not yet. His hands traced slow, soothing patterns along her thighs, a contrast to the vivid heat pulsing between them.
Another teasing stroke of his tongue. Another retreat.
She let out a desperate, broken sound and pressed her forehead to the desk, her back arching, hips shifting—begging without words.
“Please,” she whispered, wrecked, her thighs quivering beneath his palms.
Goddess, he could feel her heartbeat against his tongue. He could push her over the edge in an instant.
But not yet.
Instead, he pressed one last, lingering kiss to her skin and rose, his hands gliding up the curve of her spine as he straightened. His lips followed, ghosting over her shoulder, a fleeting touch meant to soothe and promise all at once.
He reached for his waistband, unzipping his pants, too close to the edge himself to bother getting them off completely.
“Can I?” he asked, his voice low and tight with restraint.
Nia glanced over her shoulder, her hair falling messily around her face, her eyes dark and hooded with want. She smiled. “I might die if you don’t,” she murmured, her voice shaky but teasing.
That was all he needed. Lochlan’s eyes dropped, taking her in under the low, golden light of the office. The way her hips swayed, seeking him out, made his breath catch. His gaze lingered, drinking in how wet she was, glistening and ready for him, and a low growl rumbled in his chest.
He gripped himself, guiding himself to her entrance, savoring the unbearable heat as he slowly pushed forward.
The moment he sank into her, she gasped, her fingers curling against the desk’s surface, and he couldn’t hold back his own groan.
The tight, slick heat of her surrounded him, and it was almost too much.
“Fuck,” Lochlan rasped, his forehead dropping to her shoulder for a moment as his hands dug into her hips. He pumped into her with slow, measured thrusts, his control hanging by a thread. “I’m going to go quick,” he admitted, his voice rough and raw.
Her hips rolled against him, a desperate rhythm that nearly undid him. “Don’t,” she said, her voice catching on a moan. “Let me come now. Then you can come in my mouth.”
His movements stilled, his breath catching in his throat. Just the image her promise conjured nearly pushed him to the brink. He could see it so clearly—Nia on her knees, looking up at him with those stunning, wicked eyes, her lips parted and eager.
Lochlan’s hands tightened on her hips, his chest heaving as he struggled to hold himself back.
“Loch?” Nia’s voice was breathless, laced with need and impatience.
He could barely process her words, his mind clouded with the overwhelming sensation of her warmth gripping him. “Just… need…” he groaned, his voice cracking as he thrust into her slowly, every movement stealing more of his control. “Fuck,” he bit out, his head falling forward. Words failed him.
Somehow, he managed to reach around her, his fingers finding her clit. He circled it, the slow, teasing motion making her gasp and jolt beneath him. Each stroke of his fingers was timed with the languid roll of his hips, and her body responded immediately, matching his rhythm.
She panted, her hips meeting each of his thrusts.
“You…” Lochlan rasped, punctuating the word with a thrust. “Better… come.” His voice was low and guttural, every word drenched in the strain of holding himself back.
And then she did.
Nia cried out, her body seizing around him, her walls clenching and pulsing in a way that made him curse sharply. He had to think about anything else—about plants, ancient books, goddess-damned mushrooms—but nothing could compete with the sensation of her falling apart around him.
She cursed loudly, her fingers clutching at the desk’s edge like it was the only thing keeping her grounded. Her head dropped, her body shuddering as she rode out the wave of her orgasm, her thighs trembling with each aftershock.
“Loch,” she gasped.
“I can’t,” he groaned, his voice desperate, raw. He was right there, teetering on the edge, and it would only take one more thrust—
“You better,” she said, her tone teasing despite the breathlessness in her voice.
Lochlan pulled out, and before he could fully process what was happening, she was on her knees before him.
Nia looked up, her face flushed, her breath still ragged as she reached for him. Her fingers wrapped around his cock, slick and hard, and he jerked violently in her grasp.
Her pants were still bunched around her ankles, her shirt disheveled and giving him a tantalizing glimpse of her breasts, her nipples hard beneath the fabric. She was a vision—messy, radiant, and perfect.
“Fuck,” Lochlan muttered, his voice breaking. “Fuck, fuck.” His head tipped back, his hands braced against the desk for support as his body tightened in anticipation.
He didn’t deserve this—her, like this, looking at him with those sinful eyes, her lips curved in a wicked smile. He was going to die, right here, and there wouldn’t be a better way to go.
She was gentle at first, her tongue tracing him with slow strokes that left him trembling. Testing. Teasing. Lochlan groaned, every muscle in his body taut with the effort to stay upright.
When she took him deeper, her lips gliding down his length, his vision flashed white-hot, and his head tipped back in a silent gasp.
Then she moaned—soft, indulgent, like she liked the way he tasted on her tongue—and the sound vibrated through him, sending a pulse of pleasure that struck deep, leaving him trembling.
His balls drew up tight, his thighs tingling as if the ground beneath him had disappeared.
He hunched over instinctively, one hand bracing on the desk behind her, the other tangling in her hair.
She followed him, her hands gripping his ass as she pulled him deeper into her mouth, taking him as far as she could manage.
He would have pulled back—should have pulled back—but she moaned again, the sound rippling through him like fire. His control shattered, and he couldn’t stop the desperate grind of his hips as the tension inside him coiled too tight, too fast.
“Nia,” he choked, his voice wrecked, barely recognizable. “Fuck—don’t stop. I can’t—I’m going to—”
Her nails dug into his ass, and that was it. He shattered, his release hitting him like a lightning strike. A hoarse, guttural cry tore from his throat as his body jerked, every nerve alight.
Her lips stayed locked around him, her eyes rolling closed as she moaned softly, the sound sending little sparks across his skin, his chest heaving, his knees shaking as the last of his strength left him.
When she finally pulled back, it was slow, her lips releasing him with a soft pop. When she looked up at him—flushed and proud and radiant—he felt like he could float away to the stars.
Lochlan’s breath came in uneven gasps, his head spinning as he stared down at her. He felt everything all at once: guilt and joy, exhilaration and awe, power and vulnerability. She made him feel like a god, and yet like he was utterly at her mercy.
He reached for her, his thumb brushing over the corner of her mouth as if he could somehow anchor himself to her. To hold on to this. To the impossible way she made him feel.
To her.
Lochlan hoped that maybe—just maybe—he could.