39. DARIA
Chapter thirty-nine
B raxton didn’t break the kiss as one of his hands roamed down my back and gripped my ass, the other still bracing me against the wall. Then he turned and carried me across the room before plopping me down on the edge of the bathroom vanity.
“Stay put,” he ordered.
He turned, opened the glass shower door, and flipped the water on. The door fell shut, and his attention turned right back to me.
His shirt was soaked with rainwater and it dripped onto the bathroom tile as he stepped between my knees and kissed me again—soft this time. Sweet. Just his mouth moving against mine as if this was all he ever wanted to do.
His hands trailed down my arms to the hem of my sweater. He began peeling it off slowly. The wet fabric clung stubbornly to my skin, but when I moved to help, he shook his head.
“I’ve got this.”
Once the sweater was gone, he pressed a kiss just below my collarbone and gently eased my bra straps off my shoulders. Then he looped his arms around my back, his warm breath brushing against my skin. The clasp snapped, and he caught it in his hand, tossing it behind me on the counter.
He pulled back, and his eyes darkened with desire as he took a moment to appreciate me sitting there fully exposed before him.
That lazy smile spread across his face—the one that always messed with my head and ignited a fire low in my belly. It wasn’t cocky, wasn’t smug—just warm and hungry, like he already knew every inch of my body and wanted to memorize it all over again.
His eyes dropped, and he licked his lips.
Then his hand came up, cupping one of my breasts, his thumb brushing across the nipple. My breath hitched, and his eyes snapped back to mine. He seemed to be measuring my reaction.
I didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away.
So he leaned in, pressing a kiss to the base of my throat, then another to the edge of my collarbone. He moved lower—his mouth closing around one nipple while his fingers moved in slow circles over the other.
The roughness of his hands, contrasting with the softness of his mouth, sent electric pulses straight to my core. The way he handled me—it wasn’t demanding. It was deliberate, like he wanted to rewrite something old and ugly, one kiss at a time.
I slid my hands into his wet hair, gripping him gently as each of his touches amplified the wetness pooling between my thighs.
The steam from the shower filled the room.
Braxton looked up at me again, his palm still warm against my breast.
“You deserve to be worshiped, Daria.” His voice was a low rumble that sent shivers down my spine.
And somehow, I believed him.
Braxton brushed his lips over the swell of my breast before he closed them around the aching peak once again. I arched my back, encouraging him as he flicked his tongue over my sensitive bud. My breath stuttered, and my grasp on his hair tightened. I held him there as a moan slipped from my throat.
“Oh, God…Braxton…that feels so good.”
He chuckled against my skin, and the sound vibrated straight through me.
A moment later, he switched to my other breast, lavishing the same attention on it. Using his tongue, lips, and hands, he moved slowly, unhurriedly, like he had no interest in anything but driving me completely out of my mind. My body was now taut with need, every nerve ending thrumming until I swore I was going to fall apart right there.
I whimpered, already right on the edge.
And then he pulled back.
I gasped, still clinging to him. “Wait, where are you going?”
That crooked grin spread across his face. “You were about to come, and I want you to wait just a little longer. Patience, sweetheart.”
I’d never been a patient person.
He straightened and yanked me off the counter, setting me on my feet, and then turned me to face the mirror. I was flushed and rain-soaked, my hair a mess, my breasts rising and falling with each heavy breath. Braxton stood behind me, raking his gaze over every inch of me, like he couldn’t decide where to touch me first.
Finally, he wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me back against him.
“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” he murmured into my shoulder, pressing a kiss there. “And the way you respond to me… Christ.”
His hands slid up, cupping my breasts again, and his fingers began playing with my nipples until my knees wobbled.
“Keep your eyes on me,” he said, studying me in the mirror. “Watch what I do to you and how you respond.”
He pinched, rolled, and dragged pleasure out of me like I was his puppet. I didn’t care. I wanted to watch myself fall apart under his touch. A flush of heat ran up my neck to my cheeks as my head fell back, my eyelids dipped, and a moan fell from my lips.
“You like that, hmm?” he whispered.
Then his hands moved to my hips, tugging me away from the counter. He kneeled behind me, hooking his fingers into the band of my leggings and dragging them down, taking my panties with them.
His touch skimmed over my skin as he went—my hips, my thighs, my calves. When he reached my ankles, he lifted one foot at a time, pulling off each sneaker before finally removing the leggings that had bunched up at the bottom.
“Those mile-long legs,” he murmured. “I can’t wait to feel them wrapped around me.”
He worked his way back up, kissing the back of my knee, the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, and then the curve of my ass—making me squirm. As he worked his way higher, he braced one hand against the vanity.
By the time he was back on his feet, he had me trembling.
He kissed the center of my spine, then wrapped one arm around my hips, guiding me farther from the vanity. His other hand pushed my shoulders forward.
He moved my hands one at a time and placed them on the edge of the counter.
“Eyes up,” he said, catching mine in the mirror and giving me that smile again—half playful, half dark promise.
He kissed my shoulder, then my neck, and his hand drifted slowly down my ribs, across my hip, and over my stomach, until it slipped between my legs. I bit my lip to stifle a moan when he slid his fingers over my folds.
“You’re drenched,” he growled, dragging his mouth across the skin of my shoulder. “As desperate for me as I am for you.”
Then he pressed two fingers deep inside me. The sensation of them sliding within me made my knees buckle. I gripped the edge of the counter for support, my head falling back as he pumped his fingers slowly in and out.
“So tight,” he said behind me, his breath hot against my skin.
He pulled them out and brought them to his lips, sucking my juices from his fingers as he met my gaze.
“Damn, Daria,” he said with a groan. “You taste like heaven.”
Braxton reached up to glide his hands down the curves of my sides, over my hips, and then finally back to the place where I ached for him most, tracing circles over my clit with one hand. His touch was both confident and tender, making my every nerve ending come alive.
Then he was inside me again, sinking two fingers into me, pumping rapidly in and out.
Both of his hands worked between my thighs, coaxing and controlling at the same time. His fingers curled just right, brushing against that sensitive spot. I could feel the fire of his touch from my core to my toes.
He wasn’t rushing, wasn’t chasing anything; he was playing with me, patient and focused, reading every twitch of my body, taking note of every gasp of my lips. No one had ever touched me like this. Not with this kind of attention. Not with this kind of care.
“Braxton—” I moaned as my hips rocked into his hand. It was all I could manage.
His mouth curved into a smile against my shoulder. “That’s right. Let me hear you.”
My eyelids grew heavy with lust, but when they fell shut, Braxton would not allow it. “Look at yourself,” he demanded. “Don’t shut me out. Watch how you fall apart in my arms.”
I struggled to keep my eyes open, but the sight of us in the mirror was intoxicating. The way his fingers worked me, the way he held me against him—it was all so erotic. I drew closer and closer to my climax, feeling the pressure build with every stroke of his fingers.
He playfully bit my shoulder, and I reached back with one arm, twining my fingers in his hair. This caused me to arch further into his strokes. My body sought more of his touch. My mind was falling to pieces as fast as my body was.
Braxton’s eyes met mine in the mirror, and he brought his mouth close to my ear. “Come on my fingers, Daria,” he commanded. “I want to feel your walls clench around me. I want to see your beautiful body fall apart.”
And then—I did.
I shattered into the most mind-blowing orgasm I’d ever had, my walls convulsing around his fingers. I cried out. My legs trembled as he kept his fingers moving, coaxing wave after wave from me until I could barely stand. My eyes squeezed shut while the orgasm continued to rip through me, but I heard his voice again.
“Eyes on me, Daria. I want you to see how perfect you are like this.”
I opened them, blinking through the haze, meeting his gaze in the mirror. I was still pulsing around his fingers, my body trying to catch up to the intensity he’d pulled from it.
When he finally slowed, easing me back down to earth, he leaned in and kissed the curve of my neck, murmuring low and proud, “There she is. That’s my lovely wife. Such a good girl.”
Those words—those words didn’t make me bristle.
They made me melt.
That one word— wife —hit harder than anything else he’d said. Not because of the legal document Nikolai had forged. Not because it was real. But because of the way he’d said it. Like it meant something to him. Like I meant something to him.
The tears came without warning. God, I never cried!
I turned around fast and buried my face in his chest, locking my arms around his neck as I sobbed. The intensity of the moment overwhelmed me. His endearment, the unbelievable orgasm, and the praise he was showering on me were all too much.
Braxton hugged me tightly, his strong arms encircling me, providing a sense of security and comfort that I desperately needed. “Shh, you’re okay,” he murmured, stroking my back tenderly. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
My body shook against him, the storm still working its way out. He kept holding on, kept whispering soft praise. I was barely able to process it—only that it was kind. Gentle. Like nothing I’d ever been given before.
“You’re incredible,” he said into my hair. “The way you respond…the way you allow me to touch you… You’re perfect, Daria. You are.”
I squeezed him tighter, gripping him as though he was the only solid thing left in the world.
When I finally started to settle, he leaned back just enough to get a look at me. He brought his hands up to my shoulders, steady and warm, and his eyes scanned mine as though he was worried he’d done something wrong.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked, suddenly serious. “Are you okay?”
I nodded, trying to pull myself together. Embarrassment washed over me as I realized how exposed I was, both physically and emotionally. Quickly, I wiped my face with the back of my hand. “I’m fine. God, I’m just being stupid. It’s nothing. I’m just tired and—”
“Don’t,” he said firmly, taking my face in both hands. “Don’t say you’re being stupid.”
I froze.
“What you’re experiencing is how sexual pleasure should always make you feel. Giving a man that special piece of yourself is the best gift he could ever receive. You deserve to be adored and pleasured in every way, to be praised and feel loved. Your body is your temple, and any man should be lucky enough to worship before it.”
My heart cracked wide open.
“Seriously, you deserve to be worshipped,” he said, his tone unwavering. “Not used. Not hurt. Worshipped . Because your body— you —are sacred.”
I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. The intensity of his words wrapped around my chest and held me still. It was too much. No one had ever said anything like that to me—ever.
I stood on my toes and kissed him—slow and sweet—pouring all my gratitude and astonishment into that one moment.
His hand slid down my back again.
Braxton smiled against my lips and said in a playful voice, “I’m just getting started. I’m sure I’ll wring at least two or three more orgasms from you before we even finish our shower.”
I let out a choked laugh and shook my head. “That’s if we’ve got any hot water left. You’ve been fogging up this bathroom for twenty minutes.”
Braxton gave me a crooked smile. “Then we’d better make it count.”
He leaned over and untied his boots, then toed them off quickly. Rainwater still clung to his skin, having soaked through the long-sleeved shirt that was now plastered against his chest. I couldn’t help but appreciate the view as he began to strip off his clothes. In one smooth motion, he reached for the hem of his shirt and tugged it up and over his head.
I’d seen his muscular form during our time together. His body was toned from years of physical work as a paramedic and from whatever else he did. But there was something especially hot about watching him undress now—the way the wet clothing clung to his skin, the way his T-shirt molded to his abs before he yanked it over his head, the way his biceps flexed as he struggled against its hold, and the way his jeans emphasized the powerful lines of his thighs before he peeled them off and left them in a heap on the floor.
I couldn’t look away.
And when he finally stood before me, naked and gloriously hard, a feral surge of hunger made my mouth water.
Braxton caught me staring and let out a low chuckle. “You keep looking at me like that, and I’m not gonna make it to the shower.”
I smirked, lifting an eyebrow. “You’re the one standing there like a damn Greek god. What do you expect me to do?”
He stepped closer, taking my hand in his. “Come on. Let’s clean up before the hot water runs out.”
He led me in, and steam curled around us as hot water sprayed from the showerhead, washing away the last traces of the cold rain. He grabbed a bottle of body wash, squeezed a dollop into his palm, and slathered it over my shoulders, arms, and chest, his fingers working in slow, tantalizing circles. His movements were methodical, as if he’d done this a hundred times and already knew every inch of me by heart.
“You are sheer perfection,” he murmured.
The praise sent a shiver down my spine, and I melted into his touch. His hands roamed down my sides and over my hips, and then he gently pulled me closer, his fingers tracing circles on my lower back. “Turn around for me,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent heat coiling through my core.
I obliged. His touch lingered on the swell of my ass, his thumbs gently caressing the curves. My hips swayed and rocked against his hands as if they controlled me through some invisible force. “I love the way your body reacts to me,” he said.
Then his fingers trailed lower, outlining the crease between my cheeks. I couldn’t suppress a sharp intake of breath, and I rose on my toes. “So soft. I could spend hours just here.”
Braxton’s hands soon returned to my hips before he spun me back around to face him. The water cascaded over us as our lips met in a hungry kiss, his tongue tangling with mine as his hands slid down to cup my breasts.
He teased my nipples with his thumbs, swirling them gently over the sensitive peaks until I was squirming in his arms. “That’s my girl. Show me what you want,” he said, his voice hoarse with desire.
“Mmm,” was all I could manage in response, my body already on the edge of combustion.
His hands moved back down to my hips, urging me back against the shower wall. I leaned against it, bracing myself as Braxton lowered himself to his knees before me. The spray of the shower pelted against my side while he pressed his lips against my inner thigh, making my knees weak.
“I think this is my favorite view,” he said, kissing my other thigh.
I blinked down at him as he lifted my leg and draped it over his shoulder, his hands bracing me. I raked a hand into his hair, gripping his head for balance.
A throaty moan escaped my lips when Braxton’s mouth connected with my core, working me open. The warmth of his breath, followed by the slick sensation of his tongue gliding over my clit, nearly made me topple over.
“Braxton,” I breathed, barely holding it together.
I dug my fingers into his hair, holding him against me as he feasted. His moans of appreciation vibrated against my sensitive flesh. He sucked my clit into his mouth, then drew lazy circles around it with the tip of his tongue. My arousal was pooling between my legs, a slickness that he lapped up eagerly.
“You taste so sweet,” he murmured, his voice filled with satisfaction. “This is my new favorite flavor.”
I could barely stand as Braxton continued his ravishment of my senses. My head fell back against the shower wall, and soon my breaths were coming in sharp gasps. His fingers slid inside me, pumping as his tongue teased my clit. I was spiraling towards the edge, my body tensing with anticipation.
Braxton’s fingers curled just right, finding that magic spot within. A moment later, he added a third finger, stretching me wide as he worked my clit with his tongue. My thighs clenched around his head, imprisoning him against me as a whimper of pleasure escaped my throat. “Yes! Oh, God…”
He continued his relentless assault, his tongue never wavering from its task. His fingers pistoned in and out of me, his thumb circling my clit in perfect rhythm. The pressure built—a coil of tension that threatened to explode. “Come for me, Daria,” he whispered. “Let me feel you come apart on my tongue.”
I broke apart with a cry.
Braxton held me, his arms wrapped around my thighs while he continued to work me with his tongue, drawing out every last tremor of my climax. When the last wave subsided, he pulled back, his eyes dark with satisfaction. “I could feast on you for the rest of my life and never get enough,” he said, his voice laced with amazement.
He eased my leg down and stood, catching me when my knees buckled. “Damn, baby,” he murmured with a grin. “That good?”
I nodded, breathless.
He helped me steady myself as the water continued to rain down on us and then pulled me into his arms, holding me close as if I were the most precious thing in the world. “It feels so good to know I can please you so well.”
His words struck a chord, stirring up emotions I hadn’t ever thought I would have. No man had cared about my pleasure before, much less expressed such satisfaction in delivering it.
I nuzzled into his chest, my body relaxing with a sense of contentment that was altogether new. But just as I was settling into the moment, the water suddenly turned cold.
“Shit,” he hissed. We scrambled to shut it off, laughing as the temperature plunged. He handed me a towel and grabbed one for himself, rubbing it over his hair before tossing it onto his shoulder.
“We really should’ve gotten in sooner,” I said, wringing water from the ends of my hair.
“Not my fault you were too busy in front of the mirror,” he shot back, toweling off his chest.
“Well, you,” I said, pointing at him, “only got one orgasm out of me in that shower. Thought you promised more.”
He stepped in close, dropping his towel. “Who said I was done?” His hand slid around my waist. “I don’t care if it’s in a shower, a bed, or on this damn floor—so long as you let me keep making you come.”
I laughed—really laughed—and for a moment, I didn’t care about anything else.
He watched me with that look again, the one that made my heart twist. Like he couldn’t believe I was real. Like he wasn’t sure he deserved this.
Before I could move, Braxton swept me off my feet.
“What are you—”
He carried me into the bedroom, bare feet slapping against the floor. At the bed, he yanked the covers down and laid me on the sheets like I was precious. Like I wasn’t a woman who’d burned down every world I’d ever entered.
Braxton Thorin was strong enough to carry the broken pieces of me. And gentle enough to put them back together.
And he hadn’t asked for anything in return.
No demands. Just the quiet, steady vow in his hands—I’m here. I see you. You matter.
I looked up at him, my chest rising and falling rapidly, and thought, How is this real?
He hadn’t even asked for his own pleasure.
The men I’d been with before? They took. Used. Demanded their turn first and didn’t care if I got mine.
Braxton? This man who had so effortlessly captured my body now had me questioning whether he could capture my heart as well.
And that changed everything.
He stood at the foot of the bed, easing up from the edge between my knees. He took one ankle, then the other, and kissed the inside of each. Then he began his path upward—to the inside of my calf and the soft skin along my inner thigh. His stubble grazed over me, leaving goose bumps in its wake.
He didn’t rush. His mouth paused at my hip, just over the bone, and he bit down—hard enough to leave a little mark on me and make me wonder just how rough he might like to play one day. He skimmed my sides with his hands as he climbed over me, trailing those maddening kisses across my belly, up the center to the base of my ribs.
With a soft groan, he continued his journey, his lips grazing the undersides of my breasts while his hands cupped them, squeezing gently. My nipples pebbled against his palms, begging for his attention.
“Mmm, I love that so much,” I whispered.
He chuckled. “I plan to touch every inch of you, Daria. I want to savor every taste.”
His mouth closed around one nipple, sucking gently at first, then with more insistence. My back arched off the bed, my hands tangling in his hair as sensations spiraled through me.
He switched to the other nipple, teasing it with his tongue, nibbling gently with his teeth, driving me wild. “Oh, yes, that’s exactly right,” I murmured, my hips rolling against his.
He pulled away, his lips trailing kisses up my throat, then along my jawline, until he reached my mouth. Our lips met in a feverish kiss, our tongues tangling together. His tongue slid against mine, teasing and tasting, and when he bit my bottom lip—just enough for it to sting—I jolted beneath him.
My whole body burned for him. My hands roamed his back and shoulders, unable to get enough of him.
I rocked my hips, dragging myself over his thick, hard cock. Braxton groaned and dropped his forehead to mine.
“I’m about to explode,” he muttered. “I have to be inside you.”
Without breaking the kiss, he positioned himself between my legs, with the head of his cock pressing against my entrance. I was already soaked, desperate for him to fill me.
I ground against him again.
He growled, rose to his hands, and reached between us, lining himself up. With one swift thrust, he slammed into me, stretching me to the limit, and I loved it. He paused, letting me adjust to his size before beginning to move.
“Jesus,” he gritted out, bracing his arms beside my head. “You’re so fucking tight.”
We moved in rhythm as he thrust in and out. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, digging my heels into his back.
“Faster,” I begged, my hands clutching at his back. “Harder, Braxton.”
He obliged, his thrusts becoming more powerful, his hips pounding against me. His cock was hitting all the right spots inside me, and my breath caught in my throat as another orgasm built within.
His mouth found mine again, and he kissed me fiercely. Our tongues tangled, and our teeth accidentally clashed. The kiss was wild and unrestrained, a reflection of the passion consuming us.
He pulled back, and his eyes flicked down, watching our bodies meet. “Touch yourself, Daria. I want to watch you.”
I didn’t even hesitate. My hand slid up to one breast to pinch my nipple, while the other dropped to circle my clit.
“Just like that,” he said. “God, look at you. You’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
The pressure built fast. The sounds of our bodies, his ragged breathing, the way he angled every thrust to hit just right—it all spiraled until I couldn’t hold it in anymore.
My body tightened around him as my climax approached. “Oh God, Braxton, I’m close. So close.”
“Come for me, Daria.”
That was all it took.
The orgasm hit like a shockwave. My muscles seized, my back arched, and my mouth opened in a silent scream of pleasure. My hands tingled, then gripped him harder. He didn’t stop, even as I lost control under him.
His breath stuttered. His thrusts turned frantic, desperate, each one slamming deep as I met him stroke for stroke.
“Come,” I whispered. “I want you to come inside of me.”
He groaned, buried himself to the hilt, and his whole body shuddered. “Fuck,” he said, low and deep as he came, his hips jerking against mine, his forehead pressed to my collarbone.
Then he stilled and collapsed on top of me, arms sliding under my shoulders before he kissed my neck.
I held him there, relishing every inch of skin-to-skin contact. His heart pounded against mine, slowing gradually as I traced light patterns on his back. I kissed the side of his throat and breathed him in.
Then, with gentle movements, he pulled out and fell onto the bed beside me, drawing me into his arms and cocooning me. His fingers tangled in my hair as I snuggled against him and rested my head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.
“That was…” I started, searching for the words to describe what had just happened between us.
“Incredible,” he finished for me. “You’re amazing, Daria.”
I smiled, nuzzling into his chest. “So are you,” I murmured, my eyes drifting closed.
“Get some sleep, sweetheart.” His voice was thick with exhaustion. “We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”
I wanted to argue, to tell him that I wasn’t tired, that I wanted to stay awake and discover everything there was to know about him. But before I knew it, sleep pulled me under, and I drifted off to the sound of his heart beating beneath my ear. The last thing I remembered before sleep claimed me was the feel of his lips brushing the top of my head.
Safe. Warm. Held.