Chapter 25 #2
I look down at him still pressed against me, lips soft against my clit, breathing hard, his hair a mess, his shoulders still carrying the last tremors of it.
His eyes are closed, his grip on my thighs loosened, but his hands are still there, still holding, still present, like he can’t quite make himself let go yet.
A feeling spreads beneath my ribs—something warm, vast, almost terrifying. I’ve been with men before. I know the difference between someone performing pleasure and someone genuinely lost in it. I know what it looks like when a man is simply enjoying himself versus when he’s completely undone.
But this…
This violent, careful, devastating man who has spent years learning to control every single response, to lock every reaction behind layers of iron discipline, lost control because of me.
Because of the way I taste. Because somewhere between spreading me open and burying his tongue inside me, he crossed a line he didn’t see coming, and his body made a decision without asking permission first.
No hands. No friction. No stroking himself. Just the taste of me.
Euphoric doesn’t even come close to describing what I feel. It’s deeper than that. Darker. Greedier. And I immediately know it’s something I want to hold on to, something I have to hold on to.
When he leans to the side and gently smears his cum across my skin, marking me with slow, deliberate strokes, my bones start to vibrate with it—this fierce, possessive heat that travels up the inside of my thighs and lodges itself in the center of my chest.
“You like that, don’t you?” Reth’s voice is spent and razor-sharp at the same time. “You like knowing you can wreck me.”
“I like knowing you’re mine.”
Fingers coated in his cum, he eases into me, slow, like he wants to watch my pussy take every inch, every drop.
“I want to be inside you, Sophia Sinclair,” he murmurs so softly it’s like he’s talking in a dream. “I want to feel you wrapped around my cock, the first pussy I’ve ever been inside.”
The heat of it almost buckles me. “I’m yours,” I whisper, and my voice is nothing but need.
A dark, possessive glint flashes in blue eyes at my perfect submission, and when he settles on top of me, he leans down and captures one aching nipple in his mouth.
The sudden wet heat makes me arch with a sharp moan as he sucks hard, tongue swirling around the tight peak before his teeth graze just enough to send sparks straight to my clit.
I’ve barely had a chance to come down, but every pull of his mouth, every twist of his tongue, floods fresh heat between my thighs until I’m dripping, throbbing, whimpering for him again.
He keeps me right on that edge, building the pleasure higher and higher with nothing but his mouth and hands on my breasts, until my breathing turns ragged and my legs tremble.
My pussy aches to be filled, my body yearns for that decadent pressure, and fire ignites when he drags his cock through my slit.
“Please,” I beg, feeling his cock hardening more and more with each stroke, coating his length with my slick.
“Hmm,” he hums. “I like it when you beg.” The tip of his dick nudges at my entrance, and I can’t stop my hips from moving downward, hoping he’d slip inside. But he inches back, sucking a nipple hard, then letting it pop out of his mouth. “Beg me. Again.”
“Please, Reth.”
He licks along the swell of my breast. “Nazareth.”
I still, and he lifts his face toward me.
“My name…it’s Nazareth Hale.”
The sound of his name, it hits right into a center of me—deep, resonant, and more beautiful than I ever could have imagined.
“Nazareth,” I whisper, testing it on my tongue, the shape of it. Savoring it. Loving it. And he lets out a sound, something in the middle of an ache and relief.
“I’ve been waiting a long time to hear someone say my name like that.”
He pushes in, and I cry out. Not because it hurts—though fuck, it does—but because nothing in my life has ever felt so necessary. The pressure is shocking. Brutal. My walls forced open around his thick cock, stretching wider, and it’s so fucking perfect my eyes roll back.
Every heavy inch of him splits me open, like my body’s being molded around something too big, too hard, too much, but so needed. The head of his cock presses right against the end of me, crowding every sensitive inch until there’s no room left for anything but him.
When I open my eyes, he’s watching me—oh, God, how he watches me. This is his first time, but it’s me he’s focusing on. Like all of this, everything is about me. Always me.
“How are you here?” His voice is wrecked, vibrating through my chest as he holds himself still, buried to the hilt. “You were never supposed to be here…with me.”
“Maybe it’s fate.”
He pulls back and sinks back in, causing me to shiver. “Fate…I’m not something it bothers with.”
Another thrust, deeper this time. I can’t breathe. Can’t think. All I can do is gasp and clench helplessly around his cock that’s now completely sheathed inside me.
“Maybe that’s changed,” I rasp, “Nazareth.”
He groans, the sound raw and broken, forehead dropping to mine as his hips give one involuntary, shallow thrust. Again, and again.
The rhythm turns savage, each powerful snap of his hips driving him so deep it becomes an exquisite ache, pain and pleasure braided together and ignited into a single solar flare.
“It’s mine now,” he growls against my ear, teeth scraping my neck. “This pussy. The first one I’ve ever had… and it’s going to be the last one I ever want.”
I’m moaning, sobbing, legs locked around his waist as he fucks me—hips slamming, balls slapping wetly against my soaked skin. The wet, obscene sound of his thick cock pounding into my dripping cunt fills the room, mixing with my desperate cries and his labored breaths.
God, I want to touch him. I want to rake my nails down his back, mark him.
I don’t even realize my hands are moving when he grabs my wrists, slamming them back down above my head, pinning them hard, his grip bruising and unforgiving.
Blue eyes flash with something wild and possessive as he stares down at me, hips never slowing. Using the leverage of my pinned wrists, he drives deeper, his cock, his body making a mess out of me. Panting, desperate, mindless.
“This is what I’ve been dying for,” he bites out. “And I didn’t know it until now. Until you.”
I’m so close again, trembling, clenching around him so hard it almost hurts. He feels it and snarls, hips snapping faster, grinding against my clit with every thrust.
“Sophia, fuck. Your cunt’s squeezing…it’s too much.” He leans down, teeth scraping my throat, breath hot against my ear. “You better come before I do. It’s gonna be the first time I feel a pussy come around my cock.”
That tips it. That pushes me straight over the edge, and the orgasm rips through me so violently, I scream his name as my core spasms around him, gushing slick down his cock and soaking the sheets beneath us.
My whole body convulses, back arching off the bed, wrists straining uselessly against his iron grip.
And he doesn’t stop.
He fucks me through it, chasing his own release with deep, erratic thrusts until his rhythm breaks.
One final slam and he comes inside me, and I feel it—not just in the flood of heat that fills me, but in the wild eyes above me, the way his entire body shakes with the force of it, every muscle pulled tight and trembling, like even now he’s fighting to hold the universe together just a second longer.
His hands clamp tighter around my wrists, and for a heartbeat I’m nowhere, nothing, just raw nerve as the world fizzles out into static.
Finally, his grip softens, thumb tracing the delicate bones before settling on my pulse-point, then gently guiding them down to my sides. I wrap my fingers into the sheets because the urge to touch him burns brighter now in the aftershock of it all.
Spent, he settles his weight on top of me, leans his head down on my chest, over my heartbeat. For a minute, we don’t move, our bodies twined together, sweat cooling across our skin, the afterglow so thick I could live in it.
“Your name,” I start. “I recognize where it’s from, but what does it mean?”
There’s a long pause, his warm breath brushing my wet skin. “Guardian.”
My heart constricts, spasms, then cracks open quietly.
Guardian.
Beyond the glass, sunlight breaks through the clouds, and I feel the word move through me like something looking for somewhere to land and finding nothing solid, just this vast, aching space where the injustice of it lives.
Someone named him that. Looked at a boy and saw something protective, something that stood at the threshold between safe and unsafe, and gave him a name that meant he will keep watch. He will be the thing between the vulnerable and the harm.
And then nobody kept watch for him.
My fingers curl tighter into the sheets.
I don’t trust my hands right now. So I claw the sheets and I hold the feeling, just letting it have its full shape in silence.
A tear tracks down the side of my face into my hair.
I don’t make a sound. I don’t move. And for the first time I’m glad he won’t tell me everything.
Reth was right. He doesn’t want me to carry that kind of darkness for him…because he knows I’ll never survive it.