Chapter 27 #2
My nails were biting into my palms. He was too close, far too close—and he kept coming.
“You think I don’t see it?” His breath slid down the line of my jaw. “The way you look at me with those big, blue, hungry eyes?”
My chest stuttered on a breath.
“You think I can’t see those pupils dilate every time I get close?”
His thumb brushed—not touching my mouth, but hovering—so close it felt like contact.
“That bottom lip you wet every time you think I’m not watching…”
My stomach flipped, traitorous and obvious.
He dipped his head. “You think I can’t smell your arousal right now?”
My knees almost buckled.
“And you still want to tell me,” he murmured, lips a whisper from mine, “you don’t want me?”
And then…his leg slid between mine, the rough fabric of his pants grazing the soaked ache between my thighs—so close it was torture—only an inch below where I needed it.
It was an invitation. A challenge.
A godsdamn cliff I wasn’t supposed to jump from.
Don’t move.
That was the order my brain tried to give.
But I could feel my heartbeat pulsing low, a desperate, traitorous throb that answered him before I could even think. My body wasn’t listening to my mind, not even pretending to.
Because I wanted him.
And the way he stood there—breathing me in like I was something he’d been starving for—made resistance feel like a lie I was too tired to keep telling.
He didn’t move.
Didn’t push.
Didn’t force.
Simply waited—eyes locked on mine—as if daring me to admit everything without saying a word.
And then—
I dropped that final inch.
The friction hit like lightning. I ground down against his thigh, slow at first, then harder when the ache between my legs turned feral, and the sound that tore from my throat was pure, helpless relief.
A low, guttural growl ripped from Caden’s chest, and his grip on my wrists tightened until it hurt. His thigh flexed under me, and I moved again, slow drags, greedy rolls, chasing the friction like I’d die without it.
“Fuck,” he hissed, his voice a rough scrape against my ear. “That’s it, Thompson. Again.”
His breath hit my neck, scorching, his lips brushing the shell of my ear before his teeth grazed it, making me shiver.
I gasped, arching against him, pressing harder, chasing the edge that built with every pass of fabric over my clit.
“Take what I give you,” he murmured all dark and wrecked. “And rub that pretty cunt on me.”
His thigh flexed again, hard muscle meeting desperate rhythm, and my body obeyed without thought, my hips rolling even more.
“You’re soaking my pants, Thompson.”
I rocked against him harder, shameless now, chasing that elusive crest building deep inside me. Every drag of my body against his thigh drew another pulse of fire, another broken breath. His body was mine to use, and I used it.
Desperate, trembling, consumed by the way he felt beneath me.
He was breathing hard now, every exhale rough, laced with a groan that sounded like it was torn from his chest. “Emma…”
My name left his mouth like a prayer he didn’t believe in—raw, reverent, ruined—and the sound of it nearly undid me. I wanted to hear it again. Needed to.
The pressure coiled tighter, dragging me under until thought dissolved into pure, aching need.
His hand slid from my hip, knuckles grazing the bare skin beneath my dress before drifting lower. The touch was unhurried, intentional, every inch of the journey a question and a threat.
His fingers traced the inside of my thigh, spreading heat with every pass, until I was silently begging for what I already knew was coming.
“Caden—”
“Yes, baby?” he murmured with quiet menace, lips curving against my throat. His hand pushed against the thin lace of my underwear, and I seized as he brushed over the slick need between my thighs.
"Were you about to say something?" His tone was almost cruel, mocking.
“We shouldn’t…” The words caught in my throat, breathless and broken. I didn’t even believe them.
“I’m so fucking done with you fighting this. Tell me you want me,” he demanded, the threat clear in his words.
His fingers cruelly slid beneath the fabric, slicking through the mess he’d made of me… Circling, stroking, but not entering. The maddening friction made my hips buck helplessly toward his hand, chasing him like I didn’t have a choice.
But he didn’t give me what I was aching for.
Didn’t push in.
I choked on a cry, every nerve screaming, every part of me shaking, wild with need. He was driving me out of my mind with how little he was giving me.
“Say it,” he whispered against my skin. “Say it, or I’ll keep you right here—desperate and dripping for me, with nothing to show for it.”
His breath was ragged as his tongue dragged down my throat. “Say it, and I’ll give you what you really need.”
“No,” I whispered, even as my body arched toward him, chasing the claim of his hand and the brutal thrusts of his pelvis.
His dark laugh vibrated against my skin. “Defiant to the end.”
His thumb brushed over my clit again, and I moaned into his touch.
My breath caught. “I don’t...”
“Then tell me to stop.” His teeth scraped over my jaw, hard enough to sting.
But I didn’t. Because every time his hand moved, every flick of his thumb over my clit, every grind of his hard cock against me, it shattered my ability to lie.
Instead of words, another broken moan tore from my throat. My hips jerked, seeking more, needing it like oxygen, like survival.
He growled, again, and I felt it all the way down my spine. “That’s what I thought.”
My nails dug into his shoulders, my body straining against his with mindless, hungry abandon.
“You don’t want this?” he asked mockingly, “Then why are you soaking my fingers, Nightcrawler?”
My body jolted, thighs clenching around him.
“Caden—”
“Tell me to stop, Emma,” he ordered, his command rough against my ear. His hips rolled into mine again, hard.
My mouth opened, but nothing came out. His hand flexed, pressing even harder between my legs, enough to make me whimper again.
“Tell me,” he commanded, his words hot against my neck, “you don’t need this.”
His teeth grazed my collarbone, and a gravelly sound escaped me when he bit down hard, marking me again.
“Tell me,” he hissed, “you don’t fucking crave this.”
I bucked toward his hand, and his lips curled into a dangerous smile.
“I can feel you,” he whispered like smoke and steel, his fingers now pressing hard and sure over my center, still not sliding in. “So ready for me.”
I gasped as his digits teased me, ruthless and precise. My head fell back, exposing my throat, as he sucked the sensitive skin beneath my jaw.
“Caden…” I didn’t even recognize my own voice. I was close. So close. If only he would thrust into me…
“Tell me you don’t crave me,” he demanded, his voice steady against my ear. My legs shook around him. I couldn’t think. I was throbbing beneath his hands, heat spiraling so low and sharp it made my vision blur.
I did. Gods, how I did. My body screamed for him. Tight, aching, undone by every calculated stroke of his fingers.
“Caden!” I whimpered, the word torn from somewhere deep, and primal.
His teeth grazed my ear as he growled, “Beg for me, Emma. Beg for my fingers to sink into that wet, desperate cunt. Beg for me, like I’ve been begging you with every fucking look for months.”
My hips jerked, my head snapping back with a half-sob, half-moan that barely sounded human. Every nerve was fire, every breath a plea.
“Please, Caden.”
He stilled.
A beat of silence. And then, his voice, low and lethal. “Please, Caden, what?”
I almost sobbed, thighs shaking around his hand, pressure building to the point of pain. “Please…let me come.”
His responding groan was feral.
“Fuck, you’re perfect like this,” he rasped. “Shaking for me. Dripping for me. Begging me to ruin you.”
And then he finally plunged two fingers deep inside me.
I cried out, my entire body jolting as the stretch hit. He didn’t give me time to adjust. Didn’t slow down. He curled his fingers just right, dragging them back with devastating control before driving them in again, harder, deeper.
As if he meant to fuck the begging right out of me.
My hands clawed at his shoulders, nails biting into muscle as he thrust into me again and again, the heel of his palm grinding against my clit with every stroke.
I was soaked, every wet sound between us filthy and obscene, my walls fluttering around him as he pumped me full of pressure, pleasure, need.
“Feel this?” he growled. “This is what you fucking crave.”
He scissored his fingers inside me, opening me wider, rough and perfect enough to make me cry out again. My thighs tried to close around his hand—too much, too intense—but he pinned me open, held me exactly where he wanted me, helpless under the weight of it.
My head dropped against his chest, forehead slick with sweat, body trembling against the wall as he worked me apart piece by piece.
His other hand slid up my chest, a burning trail, until his fingers wrapped around my throat.
Not squeezing. Only claiming.
My pulse thundered beneath his palm, completely at his mercy.
And fuck, I loved it.
Caden’s eyes were molten, drinking in every little reaction, every tremble, every hitched breath, his expression one of pure, unfiltered satisfaction.
Every muscle quivered as pressure coiled low in my stomach, winding tighter and tighter until I thought I’d snap.
His hand gripped my throat even harder, anchoring me in place as his fingers fucked me faster—hidden under the cover of my dress.
“Eyes on me, Emma.”
I hadn’t even realized I’d closed them.
“That’s it,” he whispered, his mouth hot against my skin. “Now give what I want, Nightcrawler… Give me what I earned.”
His fingers plunged deep, curling with merciless precision, and my body reacted before my mind could catch up. My hips bucked helplessly against his hand, chasing the release clawing its way up from the pit of my stomach.
“Caden…” I gasped, trying to bite back the sound rising in my throat.
He groaned, the sound reverberating through his chest into mine, his pace unrelenting. “Come for me, Thompson. Now.”
It was an order. A command.
And my body obeyed.
I shattered with a sob against his chest, clenching tight around him, and he didn’t stop. He kept going, fingers thrusting deep and slow, drawing out every wave, milking my orgasm until I was sobbing against him, wrung out and boneless in his arms.
“Fuck yes,” he groaned. “That’s it, baby. Just like that.”
He held me through it, his hand still moving, dragging every tremor from my body until there was nothing left but breath and heat.
Only when the shaking finally faded, only when my head lolled against his shoulder, my body utterly spent, did he exhale a shuddering breath, his own restraint hanging by a thread.
“Gods…” I breathed.
“You have no idea what you just did.” His voice was wrecked, his body tense, his cock pressing painfully hard against his jeans, but he didn’t move to relieve himself.
My stomach tightened. “Caden—”
“Don’t.”
His fingers traced my jaw, tilting my face up so I had no choice but to see him. To feel the tension still radiating between us. His eyes were wild, starving, and so dark it almost scared me.
I swallowed hard, still breathless, still pressed against the solid warmth of his body and the wreckage we’d just made of each other.
Caden’s grip was still firm, still possessive, still holding me like I belonged there. Like I belonged to him.
And fuck, how I wished I did.
Because if this was wrong, then why did it feel like the only real thing I had left?
A muscle in Caden’s jaw ticked, his restraint visible in the tension winding through his body, in the way he hadn’t moved away, hadn’t let me go.
Like he was waiting.
His thumb brushed my cheek, soft, careful, dangerous.
And then, a threat edged with something unreadable, “Don’t fucking do it.”
I blinked up at him, pulse still erratic. “Do what?”
His gaze darkened, fingers tightening for the briefest second before he let me go.
Stepping back.
Leaving me cold.
Leaving me ruined.
I parted my lips to say something—anything—but I didn’t even know where to start.
And then it hit me.
What we’d just done.
My breath caught, my body locking up as the reality slammed into me like a punch to the chest. Fire drained into ice, panic flooding the cracks left in its place.
I tore myself away, heart hammering so hard it hurt. His hand twitched upward, half-reaching for me, but he didn’t close the distance. He only stood there, chest rising fast, eyes locked on mine.
A silent warning.
Don’t you dare run.
But how could I not?