Chapter 15
Sierra
Idon’t know how I got here.
I only know I don’t want to stop.
Being on my knees before Reid, taking him into my mouth, feels familiar. Comforting. Arousing.
I know I shouldn’t—but what else am I supposed to do? My libido has been out of control all day, ever since the thing with Talon, then the afternoon with him and Luke. I held it together with a smile because I knew I’d finally get release when I came back to my room.
I could deal with it then.
Instead, I walk in on my ex using my toy like he needs it to breathe.
What else am I supposed to do but lose my mind a little?
“Sierra.”
I love it when he says my name like that. Heat slides down my thigh, and when he grips my hair—trying to hold back, failing just enough to push into my mouth—it hits me like a drug.
I take him deeper, moving faster, one hand slipping into my panties, searching for my clit.
I moan around him when I find it. I’ve been close all day, but now it’s right there, building fast.
And what a way to finish—his cock in my mouth, his rough groans in my ears.
I trace the veins with my tongue, skim the edge with my teeth, giving him just enough bite to make him react.
“Oh my—fuck.” His voice breaks, and a rush of power hits me.
I did this to him.
It’s familiar. The one place I always had control.
No matter how badly he treated me, in bed I had him. I knew it. The same way he had me.
The thought sends a sharp pulse through me as I press my clit between my fingers. I gasp, moving faster, sloppier. I’m so close. So close.
Then everything flips.
He pulls me off him and throws me onto the mattress. I catch a glimpse of the wild look in his eyes, the tension in his neck—then his mouth is on me.
It’s my turn to cry out his name.
He clamps a hand over my mouth, and the pressure only pushes me closer as his tongue finds my clit.
He goes straight for every sensitive spot, like he knows my body better than I do—exact pressure, exact rhythm—driving the sound of my moans into his palm.
When his tongue dips lower, I moan and clamp my thighs around him. He doesn’t pull back, just presses in deeper, slow and deliberate, his nose brushing my clit.
I move against him, not letting him go.
I know I should ease up, but I can’t—and he clearly doesn’t care either. His hand grips my hip, pulling me down against him, deeper.
His hand slides under my shirt, pinching my nipple while his mouth tightens on my clit.
“Reid!” I jerk, coming hard.
The orgasm stretches on because he doesn’t stop.
Not when I cry out. Not when I beg.
Not even when a second wave hits.
Only when I collapse, weakly pushing at him, does he finally pull back.
The sight of him almost sets me off again.
There’s too much between us for me to ever be unaffected by him. Our bond is messy, ugly, perhaps even damaging—but in moments like this, it almost feels worth it just to have him next to me again.
Which is exactly why I have to leave.
I don’t know why I thought I could be around him and not fall back into old patterns.
And now comes the part where I have to say it.
“You should—”
He lifts a hand, stopping me, eyes closing briefly. “I have things to say.”
I almost smile. He’s stiff, awkward, still wound tight with leftover tension. “Then say them.”
He tries. Opens his mouth. Closes it. Tries again. Then shakes his head and heads for the bathroom, muttering, “I can’t think with you all over my mouth.”
A second later, the tap runs.
He’s in there a full minute. When he comes back, his hair is wet, water still dripping from his face like he stuck his head under the spray.
But he looks steadier.
Still hard, though.
“I came here to tell you…” He exhales. “Look, I didn’t plan any of this.”
“I know,” I say. “I pushed more than you did.”
“Doesn’t mean I didn’t want it,” he says. “But that’s not why I wanted you here.”
“Then why did you?”
He drags a hand over his face. “Leaving you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
I didn’t do it for me—I was a mess. I didn’t care what happened to me.
But I was dragging you down with me. I treated you like shit half the time, and I didn’t even understand why. I kept pushing you away, acting like…”
“Like I didn’t matter,” I say quietly.
His expression tightens. “Yeah. Like that. But you did matter. You still do, and this isn’t me making excuses. I was selfish. A coward. An idiot. The only decent thing I did was leave you alone.”
“Without even a goodbye?” My chest tightens at the memory. “You couldn’t send a letter, Reid?”
“No. I wanted you to hate me. I thought it would make it easier.”
I shrug. “It worked.”
He presses his lips together, holding himself together even as it shows.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “For all of it. How I treated you. How I left. I was wrong. I get why you hate me. You should. But I don’t want that to be the reason you don’t try to heal.
I know you think this place is bullshit.
I did too. I’m not asking you to believe in it.
Just…try it. You don’t have to deal with me.
There are other instructors, therapists.
You can avoid me completely. I just think it could help you work through some of it. ”
I stiffen. I know what he means. “Why does that matter so much to you?”
“Because it does,” he says simply. “And it should matter to you too.”
I bite my lip.
Part of me wants to run.
Another part sees something in him I’ve never seen before—something real. After all, I still have that video to film.
“I’ll think about it,” I say.
He nods. “There’s yoga tonight. Nadia runs it. I think you’ll like her.”
“Great,” I say, and the moment hangs between us. I don’t forgive him. Not yet.
Maybe not even close.
But maybe… maybe I’m ready for a truce.