Chapter Fifteen #2
“Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice rough with lust. “So fucking ready for me.”
He slides a finger inside, deep and unrelenting. I buck against him, seeking more. It’s not enough. It’s nowhere near enough.
“More,” I demand, my voice cracking.
He adds a second finger, curling them just right, rubbing against a spot that makes my vision blur. I grip his hair, pulling his face back up to mine. I need his mouth. I need to taste him again.
The kiss is frantic. Teeth clashing, tongues tangling. It’s messy and raw and perfect.
His thumb finds my clit, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves with a precision that steals the air from my lungs. The dual sensation of his fingers pumping inside me and the pressure on the outside is devastating. My orgasm builds fast, a tidal wave rising in the distance.
“Nikita… I’m going to—”
“Come for me.”
He thrusts his fingers harder, faster, driving me relentlessly toward the edge. The stone railing digs into my ass, the wind whips around us, but all I can feel is him. The drag of his skin, the scent of leather and sex, the overwhelming dominance of his presence.
I shatter.
My back arches, a silent scream tearing from my throat as the pleasure crashes over me. My body convulses, waves of ecstasy ripping through me, leaving me breathless and trembling.
He doesn’t stop. He works me through it, drawing out the aftershocks until I’m limp in his arms, my forehead resting against his shoulder.
“Good girl,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to my temple. “So beautiful.”
I’m panting, trying to regain my bearings. The city is coming back into focus—the lights, the noise, the reality of where we are. Thirty floors up. Exposed.
He’s not done.
He pulls his hand from my pants, and I whimper at the loss. He brings his fingers to his mouth, his eyes locking onto mine as he tastes me. The visual is obscene. Erotic. It makes my heart hammer all over again.
“Sweet,” he says. “Like sin.”
He reaches between us, undoing his belt with a thud. The sound is loud in the quiet night. The zipper follows.
I slide my legs down from his waist, my knees weak. I grip the railing to steady myself, watching him. watching the heavy, predatory way he moves.
He frees himself. He’s thick, hard, jutting out from the opening of his jeans. The sight of him makes my mouth go dry.
“Nikita…”
“Turn around,” he commands.
Every nerve ending in my body sparks. A thrill of fear mixed with dark anticipation.
“What?”
“Turn around,” he repeats, stepping closer. “Hands on the railing.”
My heart hammers against my ribs. This is it. The point of no return.
I turn slowly. Facing the city. The drop is dizzying. I grip the cold stone, my knuckles turning white.
I hear the rustle of fabric behind me. Then, his hands are on my hips. He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of my pants and panties, dragging them down in one rough motion. They pool around my ankles.
The cold air hits my heated skin, but it’s nothing compared to the heat of him as he steps up behind me.
He kicks my feet wider, forcing me to open for him. I feel exposed, completely at his mercy.
He runs a hand up my spine, tracing the curve of my waist, the slope of my shoulders. His touch is reverent almost, contrasting sharply with the brutal urgency of what’s about to happen.
“You have no idea,” he murmurs, his breath hot against the back of my neck, “how long I’ve wanted this.”
“Then do it,” I whisper, bracing myself against the railing. “Stop talking.”
He chuckles, a low, dark sound. One hand grips my hip, holding me steady. The other guides himself to my entrance.
He pushes in.
The stretch is intense. He’s big, bigger than I expected, and he doesn’t give me time to adjust. He seats himself fully with one long, powerful thrust.
I cry out, my fingers scrabbling for purchase on the smooth, cold stone. It’s a burning sensation, a mix of pleasure and pain that steals my breath.
“Christ,” he hisses, his forehead dropping to my shoulder. “You’re tight.”
He pauses for a second, letting me get used to the intrusion. Only a second.
He pulls back, almost withdrawing completely, before slamming back in. The force rocks me forward, my breasts pressing against the stone.
He sets a rhythm. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoes in the night air, mixed with my broken cries and his guttural groans. It’s primal. Feral. We’re animals on the edge of a cliff.
His hand snakes around my front, finding my clit again. He rubs circles, matching the pace of his thrusts.
“Scream for me, Freya.”
I do. I can’t help it, the dual stimulation is overwhelming. The pleasure builds again, sharper and higher than before.
“Look at the city,” he demands, his voice rough in my ear. “Look at it while I fuck you.”
I force my eyes open. The lights are blurring, streaking as he drives into me. It’s dizzying. Disorienting.
“Who owns you?” he growls, biting down on my shoulder.
“You,” I gasp. “You.”
“Say my name.”
“Nikita!”
“Again.”
“Nikita!”
He slams into me, hitting a spot that makes me see stars. My legs are shaking, my muscles trembling with the effort of holding myself up.
“Come,” he commands. “With me.”
He thrusts deep, grinding his hips against me, and I lose it. My walls clench around him, milking him, dragging him over the edge with me.
He gasps, his fingers digging into my hips hard enough to bruise as he finds his release. I feel him pulse inside me, hot and thick, filling me up.
We stay locked together, our breaths mingling in the cold air, our bodies trembling with the aftershocks.
Slowly, the world comes back into focus.
My knees give out. I slump forward against the railing, only his grip on my hips keeping me upright.
He rests his forehead against my back, his heartbeat slowing against my spine. For a long time, we just stand there.
I can feel the mess between my thighs, cooling in the winter air. I can feel the marks on my neck, the soreness in my muscles.
It feels real.
Slowly, he pulls away. The loss is physical, a hollow ache left behind. I hear the rustle of clothing as he tucks himself back in.
My pants are still around my ankles. I shiver, suddenly aware of the biting cold again.
I reach down, pulling them up with shaky hands. The silk is soft against my sensitive skin.
I turn to face him.
He’s leaning against the railing, his chest heaving. His hair is a mess. He looks… wrecked. The mask is gone. The control is gone.
He looks at me, his eyes dark, searching.
I walk over to him. I don’t know what I’m doing. I just know I can’t leave it like this. Not after that.
I reach up, smoothing the hair from his forehead. “I should go inside,” I whisper.
“Yeah.”