Chapter 21 #2
Letting go of her throat, I grip her hips harder, guiding her into a rhythm that has her grinding against my cock with deliberate pressure.
“Fuck, Matteo.”
“That’s the idea,” I growl, nipping at her lower lip.
I capture her mouth in another kiss. She bites my lower lip, hard enough that I taste copper again, and I growl into her mouth, sliding both hands into her hair and pulling just enough to make her gasp.
Her hips rock against mine, creating a friction that’s both perfect and maddening through the layers of fabric still between us. I drag my mouth from hers to bite at her neck, marking her pale skin with impressions of my teeth that will bloom purple by morning.
“I’ve been thinking,” she pants, tilting her head to give me better access, “about something unfair.”
“What’s that?” I mutter against her collarbone.
Her fingers dig into my shoulders, nails leaving half-moons in my skin. “You said you tasted me,” she says, her voice taking on that teasing lilt that drives me wild. “But I’ve never properly tasted you.”
Heat pulses through me at her words, my cock twitching beneath her. “Is that right?”
“Mhmm.” She circles her hips again, more pressure this time. “I think I’d like to correct that oversight.”
She slides off my lap in one fluid motion, kneeling between my spread legs again—but with entirely different intent this time. Together, we undo my pants, her fingers occasionally brushing against my straining erection in a way that feels deliberately teasing.
“Shoes first,” she commands, already working on the laces.
I comply, toeing off my shoes while she pulls off my socks. Then she’s back at my waistband, tugging my pants and boxer briefs down my hips. I lift to help her, and she drags them down my legs, leaving me completely naked on her couch.
Her eyes darken as she takes in the sight of me—the tattoos that cover most of my torso, the scars that map a history of violence across my skin, and my cock, hard and thick against my stomach. The piercing at the tip catches the light, drawing her attention.
“Fuck,” she breathes, her hand wrapping around the base with just the right pressure. “You’re beautiful.”
I want to ask her if she’s talking to me or my cock, but before I can respond, she leans forward and runs her tongue along the underside of my shaft, from base to tip in one long stroke.
My head falls back against the couch, a groan tearing from my throat at the wet heat of her mouth. “Fuck. Raven.”
She smiles as she looks up at me from beneath her long, dark lashes. “Too much?”
“Not enough,” I manage, my damaged hand fisting in her hair.
The wet heat of her mouth is exquisite torture, and the sight of her blonde head bobbing between my thighs is almost enough to make me come on the spot.
She takes me deeper, working her way down until I feel the back of her throat. When she swallows around me, stars explode behind my eyelids. My hips buck involuntarily, pushing deeper into her mouth.
Her nails dig into my thighs in warning, breaking skin, the sharp pain cutting through the pleasure in a way that only heightens it. I should back off, let her set the pace, but the animal part of me wants to claim her throat the way I’ve claimed the rest of her.
“Take it,” I growl, tightening my grip in her hair and thrusting deeper. “Take all of me, Little Thief.”
She makes a sound that’s half-protest, half-moan, but doesn’t pull away. Instead, she relaxes her throat and lets me fuck her mouth, her eyes watering but never leaving mine. The combination of surrender and defiance in her gaze makes my blood burn hotter.
When I thrust too deep, her nails rake down my thighs, leaving trails of fire in their wake. The pain is perfect, a counterpoint to the pleasure that keeps me from losing myself completely. She’s fighting and yielding at once, chaos even in submission.
After minutes that feel like hours, she pulls back, gasping for breath. Her lips are swollen and slick, her eyes glassy with unshed tears.
“Lie down,” she commands, voice hoarse from my abuse.
I raise an eyebrow at the order but comply, stretching out on the couch as she rises to her feet. She walks toward the kitchen without explanation, leaving me naked and aching for her.
I hear the freezer open and close, but not much else. When she returns, there’s a secretive smile playing at the corners of her mouth. She climbs onto the couch, positioning her knees on either side of my hips.
Lowering herself, she presses her lips to mine. Their coldness only registers a nanosecond before her tongue pushes something cold and hard into my mouth. An ice cube. I nearly spit it out in surprise, but she’s already pulling away, re-claiming the cube with her tongue.
She holds my gaze as she slides backward and lowers her head again, this time taking my cock into her mouth with the ice pressed against her tongue. The shock of cold against my overheated flesh tears a strangled curse from my throat, my back arching off the couch.
“Holy fuck! Raven!”
She hums around me, the vibration traveling through my cock as the ice melts, creating a contrast of temperatures that’s driving me insane. Cold, then the heat of her mouth, then cold again as she shifts the rapidly melting cube with her tongue.
My hands find her hair again, not directing now, just holding on as she takes me apart with her mouth and that goddamned ice cube. Every nerve ending feels exposed, raw, as she works me with relentless precision.
I’m close, so close, pressure building at the base of my spine. “I’m going to come,” I growl, giving her the chance to pull away.
She doesn’t. Instead, she takes me deeper, the last of the ice gone, leaving only the scorching heat of her mouth. My orgasm hits like violence, white-hot and uncontrollable. I come down her throat in pulsing waves, cursing and praising and maybe praying to a god I’ve never believed in.
My body shudders with the intensity of it. Only when she’s swallowed every last drop does she pull back, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
“Delicious,” she pronounces, voice hoarse but satisfied.
“Come here,” I manage, reaching for her. “I need to taste you now.”
She shakes her head. “Not tonight, Firestarter. This was for me.” Her smile turns wicked as she licks her lips. “My dessert, remember?”
My chest heaves as I try to catch my breath, looking at this impossible woman who just brought me to my fucking knees. “You’re something else, Chaos.”
“So I’ve been told,” she quips, rising gracefully to her feet. “Now come to bed. It’s late, and I want you to stay so I can have you again for breakfast.”
Raven’s bedroom is dark except for the silver spill of moonlight through half-drawn curtains. I follow her in silence, my body still humming with aftershocks.
The sheets are cool against my skin as I stretch out beside her, my naked body a stark contrast to her still-clothed form. She remedies this quickly, stripping out of her clothes until she’s completely naked as well.
Then she slides in next to me. No ceremony, no shy glances—just the simple practicality of two bodies seeking rest together.
I settle onto my back, one arm folded behind my head. She arranges herself against me like she’s done it a thousand times. One leg thrown over mine, an arm draped across my chest, her head nestled in the hollow of my shoulder.
“Your heart’s racing,” she murmurs, her palm flat against my chest where she can feel my pulse hammering beneath skin and bone.
“Side effect of excellent head,” I reply, earning a soft snort against my skin.
“Told you,” she yawns.
“That you did,” I agree easily.
Her breathing gradually slows, her body melting further into mine with each exhale. The weight is an anchor, keeping me tethered when everything inside me feels like it might float away.
“Why a knife?” I ask finally, my voice low in the darkness. “Not a gun? Not mace?”
She shifts slightly, her leg sliding higher over mine.
“Dad said guns are too loud and impractical. And a mace affects everyone in range.” Her fingers trace idle patterns on my chest, connecting tattoos and scars into new constellations.
“A knife is intimate. You have to be close to use it. Look them in the eye.”
I hum in agreement, my fingers finding the knobs of her spine beneath soft skin. “I’ve always preferred fire, personally.”
“No kidding,” she mumbles, voice heavy with approaching sleep. “I’ve seen you play with your lighter. The way you watch the flame… it’s like you consider it part of you.”
The observation strikes deeper than she knows. No one’s ever seen it so clearly. How the flames that destroyed my childhood forged something new in their wake. Something that burns constantly and hungrily beneath my skin.
“And what are you made of, Little Thief?” I ask, genuinely curious.
She chuckles, the sound vibrating against my ribs. “Chaos, obviously. Bad decisions and excellent instincts.” Her hand slides up to rest over my heart again. “Questionable taste in men.”
“Impeccable taste, you mean.”
“Mhmm, debatable.” But her body presses closer, betraying her words.
We lie in the dark, her body gradually growing heavier against mine as sleep claims her. Her breathing deepens, each exhale a warm puff against my chest. I stare at the ceiling, my thoughts a storm despite the calm of her weight on me.
What the fuck am I doing here? This isn’t part of the plan. This woman was supposed to be a tool—a means to find my enemy, nothing more. Instead, she has crawled under my skin. I’ve killed men for less than what she’s done to me.
Stolen from me, challenged me, seen parts of me I keep buried from everyone else. But there’s no denying I’ve changed. Or more importantly, my feelings have changed.
I would burn cities to keep her safe, reduce the world to ash if it tried to take her from me.
Raven’s breathing has been steady and deep for long enough that I’m certain she’s asleep. I let my guard down, just a fraction, secure in the knowledge that she can’t hear me.
“I think I’m in love with you,” I whisper into the darkness, the confession burning my throat like cheap whiskey.
There’s a pause, just long enough for my heart to stutter in my chest. Then her sleepy voice breaks the silence, completely destroying the moment.
“It’s because of my ass, right?”
I freeze, then laugh. A real laugh that starts somewhere deep and bursts out before I can stop it. Of course, she wasn’t asleep. Of course, she’d turn my raw confession into a joke. She’s chaos incarnate, the perfect counterpoint to my fire.
“Partly,” I admit, tightening my arm around her. “But also because you pulled a knife on a stranger tonight and made me harder than I’ve ever been in my life.”
She hums contentedly, apparently satisfied with this answer. “Good reason. Better than saying it’s because of my sparkling personality.”
“That too,” I murmur, pressing another kiss to her forehead. “The whole fucking package, Raven. Every wild inch of you.”
She shifts, tilting her face up to mine in the darkness. I can just make out the gleam of her eyes in the moonlight. “For the record,” she whispers, “I don’t love you. But if I did, it would definitely be because of your pierced cock.”
I laugh again, softer this time, and pull her closer.
“Matteo?”
“Yes.”
“You can’t be in love with me,” she says, sounding serious now. “I’m okay with being your fake girlfriend. Hell, I’d love to be your fake girlfriend with benefits. But that’s it. Once the favor is complete, I’m gone from your life.”