Chapter 52 War
Chapter fifty-two
War
Her words detonate in my chest. I don’t want to be free.
For a beat, I can only stare. Green silk, sheer and reckless, drapes over curves I’ve been starving for.
I had seen her pull both pieces of lingerie out of her suitcase. I had hoped to watch her slip one on.
I’m glad she chose the green.
My throat goes tight. My pulse slams.
Then I snap.
I crash my mouth down on hers, swallowing the breath she stole from me. She tastes like defiance, like surrender, like mine. My hands drag over her hips, gripping, owning, pulling her flush to me as if I could fuse us together and never let her slip away again.
Inside, a single thought roars, over and over. Finally. Finally. She’s mine for good. She’s never leaving me again.
I walk her backward, lips locked, teeth clashing, until her knees bump the bed. She gasps into my mouth, but I don’t give her air—I don’t give her escape. One push, and she falls back against the mattress, silk riding high on her thighs.
The towel slips from my hips as I follow her down, climbing over her, bracing my weight on my hands so I don’t crush her with the force of everything tearing through me.
My lips drag from her mouth to her jaw, her throat, her collarbone. She arches, shivering beneath me, and I growl against her skin.
“I don’t know whether to punish you for leaving,” I rasp, voice jagged, “or worship you for coming back to me.”
Her nails rake into my shoulders, desperate. “Don’t ever set me free again,” she whispers, fierce and trembling all at once.
I lift my head, pin her with the full burn of my gaze. “Never.” The word is a vow, guttural, absolute.
I seal my mouth over hers, devouring her. My tongue thrusts past her lips, rough, desperate, tasting every shiver, every gasp, every inch of what I almost lost. Her thighs part beneath me, the green silk riding higher, teasing me with flashes of bare skin.
I drag my hand down, fisting the slip, tearing it up to her waist. She arches, whimpering into my kiss, and I groan, low and savage, at the feel of her pussy through the last flimsy scrap of fabric.
“Fuck, Olivia…” My voice breaks against her mouth. “Mine. Always mine.”
She writhes beneath me, her nails scraping down my back, hips bucking into mine like she can’t stand the space between us. I grind into her, hard and aching, my cock sliding against her through the thin barrier. She cries out, and the sound nearly destroys me.
My cock throbs at the feel of her panties already damp. I rip them aside, don’t give a fuck if they tear, and push my fingers deep into her pussy.
Hot. Wet. Mine.
She arches off the bed, gasping into my mouth, her nails digging into my shoulders. I pump my fingers, curling them until she moans, until her thighs start to shake.
“Yes,” she whimpers, eyes wide and shining. “War, please.”
I bare my teeth against her throat, biting down just enough to make her cry out. “I should make you beg. Make you fucking crawl for leaving me. But I can’t, because I need you too much.”
I pull my fingers from her, fist my cock, and line up in one desperate motion. No warning. No mercy. I drive into her in a single thrust that rips a scream from her throat.
“Fuck,” I groan, forehead pressed to hers, “so wet, always so fucking perfect.”
Her pussy clenches around me, dragging me deeper. I slam into her again, hard, punishing, the bedframe rattling under us. She cries out, wrapping her legs around my waist, pulling me in like she’d die if I pulled out.
Every thrust is a brand. A vow. She’s mine.
She claws at me, moaning, breaking under me, and I can’t stop, won’t stop, until she knows. Until every inch of her knows.
“Never letting you go,” I snarl into her mouth. “You hear me, Olivia? Never.”
I sink into her, deep, relentless, and for a second I think I could stay here forever, just get lost in her until the world ends. But it isn’t enough. Not tonight. Not for this.
I need more. I need all of her.
I pull out slow, she clenches around me like she’d drag me back in if she could, and she whimpers my name like a wound. The sound nearly undoes me, but I force myself down, gripping her thighs and spreading her wide.
“War—” her voice cracks. “Don’t stop—”
“Oh, I’m not stopping,” I growl, lowering my mouth to her. “I’m never stopping.”
I taste her. Sweet, soaked, desperate
The first swipe of my tongue makes her moan, head thrashing on the pillows. I groan into her, devouring, licking deep and slow like I can drink back every second we’ve been apart.
“Sweetest fucking thing I’ve ever had,” I rasp between licks.
Her hand shoots into my hair, knuckles white, fingers tangling in the damp strands. Her moans fill the room, each one a divine plea, music to my ears. I don’t let up. I can’t. My tongue circles her clit again and again, driven by a thirst that can’t be quenched.
My fingers digging into her lush thighs, how could I ever have told her she’s free from me.
She will never be free from me.
I need Olivia Baker.
“War!” she cries out as my lips seal around her clit and suck.
The way her thighs tremble and her hips roll make my eyes roll back.
A goddess, that is what she is.
“War,” she gasps, thighs clenching around my head. “I-I can’t—”
“You can,” I growl, voice rough, vibrating against her skin. “You will. For me.”
Her back arches, body going rigid as I flick my tongue against her oversensitive clit.
The cry she lets out is one of pure surrender.
Her hand tightens in my hair, pulling as if to yank me away, but I only push forward, my hands on her hips keeping her in place.
There’s a sob in her voice when she gasps out my name again, the words shaky, broken. Her body trembles under me as she comes, thighs closing around my head, but I don’t stop. I can’t.
I savor her taste, the sweet, shivering surrender. I feast on her pleasure, every gasp, every whimper, every twitch of her thighs.
It’s intoxicating, addictive. I could live off this alone, her taste, her warmth, the way she looks at me when I give her what we both crave.
“I need you, War,” she whispers, a desperate plea. I smirk against her skin, a rough chuckle escaping me.
“I need you more, sweet girl,” I growl back, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses up her soft stomach, to her breasts, my tongue trailing her nipple before capturing it between my teeth, biting until she gasps.
She writhes beneath me, but I keep her pinned down with my weight, my hands holding her hips captive.
Her nails dig into my shoulders, a desperate plea etched into her skin.
“War...” Her voice is a broken whimper, and the desperation in it sends a thrill through me.
My eyes meet hers.
“I won’t ever leave you again,” she promises, brushing my hair back, her gaze locks with mine. Her words are a balm, soothing the raw ache of her absence, the void she left behind.
“Good,” I growl, releasing her nipple with a wet pop, grinning at the whine that escapes her parted lips. “Because I won’t ever let you.”
Her legs tighten around me like chains.
And when I slide back into her, slow this time, deep and aching, she lets out a sound that breaks me clean in two.
A whimper. A sob. A moan that tastes like forever.
I brace my arms around her, forehead against hers. No more growls. No more force. Just breath and warmth and the slick press of our bodies coming back together where they were always meant to be.
Her eyes flutter open, wide and wet, and she stares at me like I’m the sky and she’s finally stopped running from it.
“I missed you,” she whispers, voice shaking. “Every night. Every morning.”
“I know.” My voice cracks. “I missed you more.”
I rock my hips, slow and deep, dragging every inch of my cock inside her. No rush. No punishing rhythm. Just us. The slide of skin, the sighs between kisses, the creak of the mattress as I make love to the woman who tore me open and stitched me back together with one knock on my door.
She wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me close, her lips brushing mine with every exhale. “You feel like forever, War.”
I kiss her like a promise. My hips moving slow, unrelenting. Our bodies already know each other, but this—this is new. This is real. There’s nothing left to prove. No anger. Just her soft sounds, her shaking legs, the way her pussy tightens each time I whisper her name.
“Say it again,” I murmur.
She breathes, “Don’t ever set me free.”
I thrust once, deep, and kiss the corner of her mouth.
“Never,” I whisper against her skin.
She comes quietly this time, her breath catching, her body curling around mine like a secret. I don’t stop. I let her ride the wave, rocking into her as I kiss her neck, her jaw, her lips again.
When I finally break, when the heat coils tight and spills from me with a guttural groan into her welcoming body, it’s not wild. It’s reverent.
I stay there for a moment, letting the tremor pass, the world tilt back into place.
Then I ease out of her gently, careful, and she whimpers at the loss, shifting to cling to me.
“Shh,” I murmur, brushing her hair back, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I’ve got you.”
She melts into me as I pull her into my arms, her body curling instinctively against my chest. I tuck the blanket around us, my hand splaying across her back, stroking slow and grounding.
She hums, soft and sleepy. “I’m sorry I left.”
My heart kicks.
I press a kiss to her forehead. “No more apologies,” I whisper, voice raw with truth. “I was never going to leave here without you.”
Her fingers slide over my chest, resting above my heart.
“But you didn’t watch me this time,” she whispers. “You didn’t seek me out.”
I go still.
Then I huff a quiet laugh, low and dry.
“Oh, sweet girl.”
She tilts her head up, blinking at me with those doe eyes, already shining again.
“This room…” I murmur, brushing my knuckles across her cheek, “has a direct view into your bedroom window across the street.”
Her breath catches. “What?”
“You never close your curtains,” I say, voice dropping, disapproving. “Not once. I should spank you for that alone.”
Her cheeks flush, and I let my thumb graze the heat blooming there.
“Did you watch me change clothes you voyeur?” she asks with a little laugh, her voice almost shy.
“Maybe. Maybe I hoped you’d notice.” I smirk pressing a kiss to her lips.
I pull back slightly, my voice low.
“I saw you go into Murphy’s that first day. Watched you scan the diner, looking for me.”
I pause. “I walked in, grabbed my order, and left. Couldn’t stand to see your face when you realized I wasn’t coming to sit down. It was so hard not to look at you.”
Her mouth parts in a soft gasp.
“I watched from the rearview mirror,” I add, quieter now. “Saw you standing there, bags in hand, still looking after me even when I drove away.”
She closes her eyes, her body curling tighter into mine. I hold her through it.
“I also saw you watching me from the window when I was playing in the snow with those kids in the street. Pretending like you weren’t. Pretending you were fine.”
I feel her fingers grip my chest, her breath shaky against my neck.
“And I almost saw red,” I growl softly, “when I watched you walk up to that stranger at the movie theater.”
Her eyes fly open. “Wait—you were at the theater?”
I chuckle, the sound rough with disbelief. “You think I wouldn’t know where you were?”
She blinks, stunned.
“And I heard you were worried about the swing set. I have the rotted piece of initialed wood in my suitcase, we’re taking it home.”
She smiles, her breath hitching.
My heart thrums.
“When Ella called, I went to Murphy’s to pick you both up, I thought you’d be there.”
Her silence is deafening, her smile drops.
“You weren’t,” I finish. “So I drove Ella back here instead. And spent the rest of the night watching your window like a fucking addict.”
“Her eyes shine, glassy with disbelief. “Why not just speak to me, War?”
“I needed it to be your choice, my sweet girl. And now it is.”
She nods. “You never really let me go then.”
“Never,” I say simply. “I could never.”
She kisses me soft and deep and full of everything I have ever needed.
I hold her tighter; for the first time in months, my lungs don’t ache. She’s here.
She’s mine.
Step Six: Complete.