Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
nyx
FIVE YEARS AGO
Icollapse onto my bed in the base with a heavy flop.
God, I’m exhausted. Training has been relentless lately.
Hours spent staring through the scope with night vision have left my eyes struggling to focus.
We’re in the middle of a two-week refresher course while we’re off deployment, keeping our skills sharp.
I don’t mind it, really. It’s not the drills that are wearing me down, though - it’s Nocturne.
He’s been tiring me out more than the damn scope training.
But truth be told, I don’t mind that either.
I step into the shower, giving myself a quick scrub, my hair twisted into a messy bun.
After brushing my teeth, I step out of the bathroom, only to catch sight of a shadowy figure perched on my bed.
I smirk. “Shouldn’t you be in your own room Noc?
” Turning, I let the towel slip down my body, my gaze locking onto those scorching blue eyes in the mirror - watching him, watching me.
He huffs out a laugh. My eyes take the opportunity to roll over him.
He’s dressed in all black everything – his special ops gear – from the tight fitted shirt all the way to his cargo trousers and boots.
He radiates lethal power, but somehow it always seems to draw me in.
I’ve never really felt the appeal of a man in uniform.
But on Noc? The uniform is downright sinful.
Heart blooms beneath my skin, causing a slow and treacherous blush to creep its way up my cheeks.
“My instincts led me here, and judging by what I see, they weren’t wrong.
” His dark and predatory gaze rakes over me, like he’s deciding the best way to devour me.
And God, I know he will. He leans back, adjusting himself at the waistband, then resting his muscular forearms on his knees.
On the outside, he looks controlled, but I can see the tension coiling beneath his surface.
The towel lies forgotten on the floor between us.
I’ve got him worked up, and he knows it.
“Instincts? Is that what we’re calling your impulses now?
” I smirk, turning to meet his stare head-on.
This man – an Adonis carved from raw power, all six-foot-five of brutal, commanding muscle, makes my heart hammer and my thighs press together in anticipation.
He holds my gaze and speaks, low and rough.
His demeanor morphing into something primal.
“I’ve had a long day, and since you like testing my patience, Brodie.
Get on your knees… and crawl to me.” His words steal the breath from my lungs. Every last one.
Realization slams into me - I would do anything this man asked me – anything at all.
I’ve been hooking up with Noc for a year, since I was twenty-one, and he was twenty-seven.
I first laid eyes on him at the base; he came highly recommended as a key figure in our special operations task force.
He supports training as our mission to counteract the threats to western society grows.
He climbed the ranks relentlessly, committing himself to the cause the moment he was eligible to join the military.
Once, he told me his father wanted a better life for him, and started his training when he was just a kid – just like my parents had with me.
That shared history was what first got us talking, forging an understanding few others could relate to.
He was tasked with those of us looking to progress into special operations, crafting bespoke training sessions meant to sharpen our precision.
And on that first day? I failed spectacularly.
Normally, I was solid with a rifle, but every time he spoke, his words faded into static, drowned out by my fixation on his eyes.
They reminded me of the ocean during a storm - wild, untamable, and impossible to look away from.
He straight-up asked if my profile had been fabricated, considering how good I was on paper.
I like to remind him of that every time I dominate a session, especially when the final scores roll in.
Whoever loses, has the task of sneaking into the other's bedroom.
As you can tell, I won the latest round.
I sink to my knees, slowly, and deliberate, as if the entire world is holding its breath along with me.
Then, I do exactly as he commanded. I crawl to him.
My movement is fluid as I channel my inner feline, making my body pliant, my bones lax, my approach a prowling dance.
My gaze never veers, it’s locked onto his.
I stop between his spread thighs, the heat radiating off him like a thunderstorm on the verge of breaking.
His inked hand reaches out, fingers curling around my throat.
A tease. A promise. He presses just enough to remind me who's in control. “I think I need to teach that mouth of yours another lesson.” he murmurs. I feel the shiver before it happens, it’s electric, crawling up my spine.
His lessons are my favorite. They make me want to be a brat every chance I get.
“I think you should,” I whisper, tilting my chin up in defiance.
“I don’t think I’ve learned since last time.
” His fingers tighten, just a fraction. Just enough to make me exhale sharply.
The growl that rumbles in his chest goes straight between my thighs, a smile tugging the corner of his lips.
It's sharp, knowing, and dangerous. His other hand lifts, fingers brushing gently through my hair, tucking it away so he can take in every inch. I’m mesmerized by him.
I trace the lines of his battle-hardened face, a man who has seen more horror than most will in an entire lifetime.
The weight of it lingers in the sharp edges of his jaw, in the tension resting beneath his skin.
But here, at this moment, I want to make him forget. For now, it’s just us.
The world beyond this space ceases to exist, fading into background noise.
His storm eyes lock onto mine, piercing me with silent words unspoken between us.
“Noc,” I whisper, restless beneath his grip.
I shift, impatience curling through me like a slow burn.
My hand glides down his chest, hard lines and sculpted muscle beneath the stretch of black fabric.
I trace his belt, running a nail over the buckle, and I tug just enough to make my intent clear.
Still, he only watches me. I arch a brow, challenging him, daring him to act.
His smirk breaks free as he tightens his grip around my throat for one final, teasing squeeze before his hands slide down, gripping the backs of my thighs.
In one swift motion, he lifts me, and instinct takes over as I wrap my legs around his waist, letting myself fall into the moment, into him.
Our mouths collide, a breathless tangle of wild, consuming kisses.
My fingers thread through his hair, tugging at the short ends, and he moans into the kiss, his grip tightening around my ass.
With effortless control, he moves, walking us toward the sofa in the corner, lowering himself with practiced ease, never once breaking out contact.
With a swift tug, he shifts me up, his fingers deftly working the belt loose in one versed motion.
I rise onto my knees, moving with him, my hands sliding down to help him shed the barrier between us.
He fists the material of his shirt, tugging it over his head in one smooth motion, messing up his already unruly hair. Somehow, that only makes him look more appealing. There's something about the way he moves, so effortless, and the way his muscles flex beneath his inked skin.
God, why is that so hot?
His hands tighten around my throat again, and then we’re crashing together.
We’re a clash of tongues and teeth, battling with breaths and need.
The air around us feels electric, charged with the raw and consuming sparks between us.
If there were a naked flame nearby, it would ignite this whole room.
“Fuck me, Malyshka.” The way he says that name in the heat of the moment, his usual bad-boy roughness melting into pure Russian bliss by the time he reaches the last word, it’s my undoing.
Heat coils through me, sharp and undeniable.
My hand moves between us, and I wrap my fingers around his thick silky length.
He holds still while I guide his head to my entrance.
He knows there’s no foreplay needed in these moments.
I’m already slick and ready for it the moment our eyes locked in the mirror.
I let out a moan as I roll my head back, my body tingles all over as he pushes up to slide inside, inch by inch, stretching and filling me.
My movements start torturously slow, up and down his dick.
I tilt my head forward to meet his intense, stormy gaze.
His arms fanned out along the back of the sofa, radiating masculinity and stirring the need in me.
In my moment of distraction, his impatience pushes through his hips as he thrusts hard to meet mine, causing me to gasp as he hits my cervix.
I place my hands on his shoulders and start to move in quick, unsteady bounces.
The only sounds filling the air are our breathless gasps and the rhythmic slap of skin against skin.
“Oh, God.” I moan, my pace quickening as he meets my rhythm, the tension swirling in my core threatening to whisk me away with it.
His hands roam from my thighs, drawing heat as they scorch their way over my breasts, before clamping over my neck.
His fingers tease the pressure on each side, my breathing already constricting as the vision in my eyes slowly starts to blur.
And just when I hover on the edge of nearing a black out, his hands snap away, the air rushing back to me as my body feels almost limp, the only sign I'm still present are the wicked strokes he punishes me with whilst my hands grip onto him for stability.
He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me closer, and then he becomes primal, the intensity of his thrusts smearing my vision with tears of pleasure.
I cry out as the first wave crashes into me, vision blurred, stars flickering at the edges as the sheer intensity threatens to consume me.
The pleasure is so raw, so immense, teetered on the brink of something almost too powerful to bear, leaving me breathless in its wake.
There’s no time to savor the lingering warmth of bliss.
Before I can pull oxygen back in, he flips me effortlessly, turning me so that I find myself on all fours at the edge of the sofa.
I throw my hands out, grasping the sofa’s arms to steady myself, the rush of movement making my head spin as I dwell in the aftermath.
Noc wastes no time, driving into me from behind as I scream his name into a pillow.
With powerful thrusts, he grips my loose hair, arching my head back toward the ceiling.
The sensation is overwhelming, and I can feel that coiling heat in my lower stomach building up again.
He tugs my hair back with force. I've no choice but to move with it so I’m flush with the heat of his body.
He leans in close, his staggered breath warm against my neck.
The faint scrape of his stubbled jaw brushes the damp curve of my cheek, sending a shiver through me.
“Come for me again, Brodie.” and his words have me crying out in another mind-shattering orgasm that leaves me trembling with exhaustion.
He groans behind me, and I feel him pulsing inside me as his thrusts grow lazier, eventually coming to a stop. He places a tender kiss on the side of my tear-soaked neck and whispers, “Good girl.” In that moment, my bones melt in his embrace as he slowly drags himself out of me.
I want to be bad, just so I can be redeemed as his good girl.
We lie tangled together on the sofa, its size barely accommodating his height, let alone the two of us pressed close. He places a tender kiss against my hair, pulling me deeper into his warmth.
My fingers drag lazily across his skin in the aftermath, tracing the dark inked lines of his tattoos, committing them to memory.
It lingers on the edge of my lips – those three words my heart aches to say aloud.
A confession that could change whatever we have between us into more or unstitch what little we already have.
But I don’t say them. I never do. Instead, I clutch onto the warmth his presence brings me, pretending to myself that it's enough. Sleep pulls me under, and in the morning, he’ll be gone.
Just like always.