Chapter 13 #3
"I want to feel them." I meet his eyes. "Want to remember this. Remember you. When we're in that facility."
Predatory pleasure curves his mouth. Possessive satisfaction darkens his eyes. "You're learning."
"You're teaching me."
He kisses me again, slower now, thorough. Then pulls back. "Not done with you yet."
He moves down my body, mouth blazing a path across my skin.
His tongue traces my collarbone before moving lower.
He cups my breasts, thumbs circling my nipples until they peak hard and aching.
Then his mouth closes over one, sucking hard enough to make me arch off the mattress.
His teeth graze the sensitive flesh, sending sparks straight to my core.
He lavishes attention on one breast while his fingers work the other—pinching, rolling, tugging until I'm gasping and writhing beneath him.
When he finally releases my nipple with a wet pop, he moves to the other, giving it the same thorough worship. Sucking. Biting. Leaving me trembling and desperate.
Then lower. Mouth hot against my ribs, my stomach, the curve of my hip.
He settles between my thighs, spreads me open with his thumbs. Exposing me completely. "I want to taste us together. Taste my cum dripping out of you."
Then his mouth is on me. Tongue working with devastating precision. Licking up the mess we made, sucking, taking me apart with the same controlled violence he brings to demolitions.
The second orgasm builds faster than the first. He adds fingers. Two. Curling them to hit the spot that makes me see stars. His tongue circles my clit with relentless rhythm while he fucks me with his fingers.
"Come for me again," he says against my skin. Voice dark and commanding. "Show me how good I make you feel. Show me what this pussy does when I own it."
I do. Breaking apart under his mouth. Fingers tangled in his hair. Body arching off the mattress. Crying out so loud I don't care if Luc hears.
He gentles me through the aftershocks. Licking softer. Kissing my thighs. Then crawls back up my body to kiss me deep and filthy. I taste us both on his tongue. Salt and sex and possession.
"My turn," I say when I can speak again.
He raises an eyebrow. "You don't have to—"
"I want to." I push him onto his back. "Lie still and let me."
For a moment, I think he'll argue. Take back control. But then he settles against the pillows, hands behind his head. Giving me access. Surrendering to this.
I start at his throat. Kissing down the column of muscle. Biting gently at his collarbone. My hands map scars and muscle, learning the geography of violence written on his skin. Each place that makes his breathing hitch. Each touch that makes tension coil through him.
Lower. Mouth tracing the line of his ribs. Tongue dipping into the hollow of his hip. Teeth grazing the tendon of his thigh.
When I finally wrap my hand around him, he's already hard again. Thick and hot against my palm. I stroke slowly, learning the weight and texture, how he responds when I twist my wrist just right.
"Isabella." Warning in his voice. "You don't—"
I ignore him. Lower my mouth to lick the length of him. Base to tip. Tasting salt and skin and us.
His hand fists in my hair immediately. He's not controlling, just anchoring, grounding himself while I work him with tongue and lips and suction.
I take him in. Slow. Watching his face. Watching the control fracture in his eyes as I work him deeper. Using tongue and suction and lips. Learning what makes his breathing go ragged. What makes his hips flex. What makes that muscle in his jaw tick.
"Fuck, chère." His voice is gravel. "Just like that. Take it deeper."
I do. Relaxing my throat. Taking him until I gag. Then again. And again. Finding the rhythm that makes his fingers tighten in my hair. Makes harsh sounds tear from his throat.
I add my hand where my mouth can't reach. Stroking and sucking in tandem. His thighs tense under my free hand, his body coiling tight.
"Close," he warns. Voice rough. "If you don't want—"
I double down. Taking him deeper. Faster. Making my intention absolutely clear. Want to taste him the way he tasted us both.
He comes with a harsh groan. Fingers tight in my hair. Hips jerking. Spilling heat across my tongue, down my throat. I swallow and keep working him through it until he's gasping, oversensitive, trying to pull away.
When I finally release him, his eyes are dark and satisfied and hungry for more.
"Come here."
I crawl up his body. He pulls me down for a kiss that's possessive and claiming, that tastes like promises neither of us can make.
We lie tangled together marked and sated. In a short time we walk into a facility that might kill us, but right now we're alive and together, and for these few hours before the briefing, that's enough.
"I meant what I said earlier," Remy says into the quiet. "I will get you out. No matter what it costs."
I don't argue. Don't tell him his life matters as much as mine. Just hold him tighter and let myself believe that we'll both survive.
At midnight, we breach that facility. We destroy the compounds. We end this... or we die trying.