Chapter 15 Phoenix #2
Leander kisses me again, deeper, his tongue sliding against mine, and heat pools low in my stomach.
His hands roam everywhere. Over my shoulders, down my chest, slipping under the hem of my shirt.
His fingers brush my skin, slow at first, teasing, then firmer, mapping me out like he’s memorizing every inch.
“God, you’re perfect,” he mutters, almost angrily, like the words were ripped out of him. He pushes my shirt higher, baring me inch by inch. “Do you even know what you do to me?”
“Lee…” My voice is wrecked, more plea than warning.
His mouth is everywhere now—across my collarbone, down my chest, sucking at sensitive spots until I gasp, my head tipping back.
I can’t believe how quickly I’m unraveling under him.
No one’s ever made me feel like this—not with touches this soft, kisses this careful, but threaded with a heat that threatens to consume me whole.
And then he changes. The softness burns hotter, turns sharper. His teeth graze my skin, his hands gripping harder at my sides, pulling a groan from deep in my chest.
I realize with a jolt that Leander isn’t just being gentle—he’s claiming.
Every press of his lips, every mark of his teeth, every scrape of his nails down my ribs—it’s him taking.
And me letting him. I don’t even fight it.
I can’t. My whole body is thrumming with need, my cock straining against my jeans, every nerve lit up like fire.
“Leander,” I gasp, my hands gripping at his hips now, desperate for something to hold onto. “Fuck.”
He smirks against my skin, a look that’s new on him, dangerous and devastating. “Yeah. Say my name like that again.”
I groan, head falling back, because I’m losing it. I’ve had people want me before, had people claw at me, beg for me—but this is different. This is him. Leander. The kid who used to barely look me in the eye, the one I’ve been circling for months, the one who just told me he loves me.
He starts to move against me, grinding down, and I nearly come apart right there. My hands fist in his shirt, pulling him closer, until our foreheads press together, both of us gasping.
“This is…” I start, but the words choke off, incoherent.
“New?” he finishes for me, his lips brushing mine again.
I nod, my voice breaking. “Yeah.”
And then he kisses me hard, swallowing whatever else I was about to say, and I let him.
Because for the first time in my life, I’m not the one in control. And it feels fucking incredible.
Leander shifts on my lap, his lips brushing mine as he whispers, “Let me have you, Phoenix. Just once. Trust me.”
The words go through me like a blade, sharp and clean, cutting away the last of my defenses. My chest is tight, my pulse hammering, but I nod anyway. Because how the hell do I tell him no?
He kisses me again, slow this time, deliberate.
His hands skim down my chest, then to my waistband.
He pops the button open with an ease that makes me shiver, sliding the zipper down.
My cock aches as the denim loosens, and his palm presses against me through my briefs, firm enough to make my hips jerk up.
“Fuck, Lee—” My head tips back against the couch. The sound that tears out of me is half-growl, half-plea.
He bites at my jaw, his breath hot against my ear. “I want you like this. Needy. Off balance. Mine.”
I groan, grabbing at his waist, but he swats my hands away. “No,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “Let me take care of you.”
The command makes something deep inside me shudder. I drop my hands, clenching the cushions instead. “You’re killing me,” I rasp.
He smiles—hungry, wicked—and slides off my lap, pushing me back into the couch. He kneels between my legs, dragging my jeans and briefs down in one swift motion, baring me completely.
My cock springs free, flushed and leaking, and his eyes darken when he looks at me.
“Beautiful,” he mutters, almost to himself, before leaning in and licking a slow stripe up my length.
“Jesus Christ—” My hips buck, a strangled sound ripping out of me. I slam a hand against the armrest, the other curling into my hair as if I can hold myself together. No one has ever made me feel this undone this fast.
He takes me into his mouth, slow at first, then deeper, his throat working around me. My vision whites out, a raw moan tearing free. He’s relentless, his hands holding my thighs down when I try to thrust up, forcing me to take every bit of his pace.
“Lee, I—fuck, I’m not gonna last—”
He pulls off with a slick pop, grinning up at me. My cock glistens, wet from his mouth, and I swear I almost lose it just looking at him like this—on his knees, eyes blazing with want.
“Not yet,” he says, his voice low, commanding. “I’m not done with you.”
My chest heaves. My body aches. And still, I nod, letting him guide me, helpless against the tide of him.
He climbs back up, kissing me hard, letting me taste myself on his tongue. It should feel dirty, but it only makes me harder.
“Bedroom,” he mutters against my lips.
I let him pull me up, stumbling with him down the hall, both of us half-undressed, mouths fused like we’ll starve if we break apart.
He shoves me onto the bed, crawling over me, stripping my shirt the rest of the way off.
His own clothes hit the floor a second later, and when he straddles me again—skin to skin this time—I can barely breathe.
“Lee…” My voice cracks, raw with want and something deeper, something that scares the hell out of me.
“Trust me,” he says again, kissing me softer this time, like a promise.
And I do. God help me, I do.
Leander’s mouth is back on me before I can say anything else, kissing down my chest, biting hard enough to leave bruises along my ribs, licking over them like he wants to soothe and claim in the same breath.
My hands twitch with the urge to grab him, flip him, take control—but I don’t.
I let them fall open at my sides, because I meant it when I told him I’d give him this.
He moves lower, dragging his teeth across my hip before palming my cock again. My whole body jerks.
“Shit!” My voice cracks, heat flooding through me so sharp I almost can’t breathe.
He smirks, rolling a condom down his length before I’ve even processed he had one in hand. Then he grabs the lube from my nightstand—he knows exactly where I keep everything. The thought sends a bolt of something dangerously close to tenderness ripping through me.
He coats himself, his hand slick and deliberate, stroking until I’m panting, until my mouth is salivating from needing him so badly. Then he pushes my knees up to my chest and presses the head of his cock to my entrance. My world fucking shatters.
“Christ—” The word tears out of me, raw and desperate. My head slams back against the pillow. The heat of him, the tightness, the absolute overwhelming feel of him being inside me—it’s too much, too good. My nails dig into the sheets.
Leander groans, low and guttural, his head tipping back. His hands press against my legs, steadying himself. He takes a second, waiting for me to adjust, and I swear I’m dying under him. Every muscle in my body is trembling with the need to move, to take, but I hold myself still.
Then he starts to fuck me.
Slow at first, dragging himself out and sliding back in, like he wants me to feel every single inch. My hands fist in the sheets, my jaw locked tight, but it’s useless. Sounds I’ve never made before are tearing out of my throat with every shift of his hips.
“Look at you,” he pants, leaning down to kiss me between thrusts. “Fucking falling apart.”
I moan into his mouth, biting his lip, but it just makes him grin. He speeds up, thrusting harder, driving deeper into me. My control slips with every movement. Soon my hand is pumping myself. The pleasure almost overwhelming me.
“You like that, baby?” he rasps, voice breaking.
I reply with a needy sound.
His laugh is wrecked, breathless. “I like ruining you.”
And holy fuck, he is.
The bed creaks, our bodies slamming together, the air thick with sweat and the obscene sounds of skin on skin. His muscles flex under my hands when I finally grab his hips, pulling him closer, forcing him to take me harder.
He pulls out quickly, forcing me onto my hands and knees.
“Say you want me,” Leander growls in my ear. His cock rubbing between my ass cheeks.
“I want you.” I push back against him, trying to receive any friction.
His hand wraps around my dick, now slick with lube. I gasp out.
“Say you’re mine.”
“I’m yours,” I groan.
His cock presses inside me and even though I’m looser than before it still feels like he’s tearing me in half with just the size of him.
He grips my hair yanking me back to him, my back against his chest slick with sweat. “Say you love me.”
My head lolls against his shoulder, the fullness of him choking me up. “I love you.”
He moans so loud I almost come all over the sheets. Something that makes me want to break apart and rebuild myself in his hands.
He slams into me, over and over, fucking me like he’ll never get another chance. He moans against my neck, gasps my name, and it undoes me completely.
“Lee—fuck—I can’t—”
“Let go,” he breathes, gripping my shoulders so tight it’ll leave marks. “I’ve got you. Always.”
I come with a broken cry. He positions my cock so the white stream coats my abs and chest. It feels endless, wave after wave ripping through me until I collapse.
He strokes my back. “That’s it,” he murmurs, soft and steady. “Good.”
I’m wrecked, undone, everything inside me turned inside out. And yet for the first time in years, I don’t feel weak. I feel… safe. Wanted. Loved.
But he doesn’t stop. He pushes my body punishingly against the bed. I clench around him, whimpering his name.
Leander sounds like a ruined man. Talking in half sentences and moans. “Oh, fuck. Nix. You feel so...Mmm. Yes. Yes. Fuck, you’re so tight.”
And when Leander finally comes too, gasping my name, clinging to me like I’m the only thing keeping him alive, I know I’ll never be the same again.
He lays on top of me, still not pulling out of me. I can feel him pulsing within me, warm and deep. I can’t move. My body feels like it’s been stripped down and rebuilt, every nerve fried, every muscle trembling.
Leander rolls off of me with a satisfied sigh.
Leander doesn’t look wrecked the way I do.
He looks… proud. Like he just conquered something.
His chest rises and falls fast, sweat glistening across his skin, lips swollen from how hard I kissed him.
He leans over, presses a slow kiss to my jaw, and then—gentler than I expected—he slips off the bed.
“Don’t move,” he says, voice rough but firm.
I blink at him. “Lee, I can—”
“You can shut the fuck up for once.” He shoots me a look, the kind that’s bossy as hell, but his mouth quirks with something softer underneath. “I’m taking care of you.”
The words land heavy in my chest. No one has ever said that to me like this. Not as an order. Not as a promise.
I lie back, stunned, while he disappears into the bathroom. I hear water running, the cabinet opening, the faint rustle of towels. My throat tightens. This is backwards. It’s always me cleaning him up, patching him when he’s hurt, making sure he’s fed and steady. It’s supposed to be me.
When he comes back, he’s holding a damp washcloth and one of my clean shirts. His hands are steady, his eyes sharp, but the way he looks at me—it’s not playful. It’s not teasing. It’s reverent.
“Sit up,” he murmurs.
I obey, because somehow I can’t do anything else.
He wipes me down first, gentle but thorough, like he’s memorizing me in every swipe of the cloth. Then he tosses it aside and pulls the shirt over my head. It’s soft, worn cotton, but the way he tugs it down over my chest feels like something holy.
When he presses a kiss to my shoulder afterward, it undoes me more than the sex did.
“You didn’t have to—” My voice breaks. I swallow hard, trying again. “You don’t have to do this.”
“Yeah, I do.” He settles back beside me, pulling the blanket up over both of us. His hand brushes my hair back from my face, his thumb tracing across my temple like he’s trying to soothe the chaos out of me. “Because you deserve it. And because I wanted to.”
I close my eyes. For a second, I don’t know if I’m going to cry again. My chest aches with the weight of it, with the truth of what he’s giving me. No one has ever made me feel this way. Seen me this way.
“Lee…”
“Shh.” He kisses me, slow and soft, nothing like before. “Just let me have you like this tonight.”
And I do.
I let him curl around me, his arms strong and steady, his warmth sinking into my bones. I let myself be the one held instead of the one holding. I let the silence stretch, safe and heavy, until my breathing finally evens out against him.
And the last thought that slides through me before sleep takes me is terrifying in how sure it feels: If he asked me for everything, I’d give it.