Wolff
She finally shuts the hell up.
Eyes closed, head tipped back against the wall, soft breaths slip past her lips. Her cheeks are flushed from the cold, and her hair’s messy, loose strands sticking out from under her hood.
She’s too damn close.
Every time I flip the knife, my arm brushes hers. Heat bleeds through my jacket no matter how much I shift away. I move another inch, unclenching my jaw.
How many fucking stories can one person have?
Not that I was listening.
My attention stays on the warehouse—on Savva, on Viktor, on every movement in the room, every shadow that doesn’t belong. I don’t need distractions. Not tonight. Not when my head is already running on fumes.
I let out a slow breath and rotate my wrist. The knife moves faster between my fingers.
Still, my eyes keep dragging back to her.
The knife spins harder.
Last night keeps forcing its way in—how her cunt gripped my cock, how tight her ass felt around my fingers, how she tasted, how wet she was, the broken sounds she made when she came.
And worse, what happened after.
The way she started screaming her safeword. And I fucking dragged her against my chest like it was instinct. I don’t do that shit. I don’t hold Sluts. I don’t let them cling to me. I don’t let anyone close enough to feel my fucking heartbeat.
I fuck. I use. I walk away.
That’s it.
That’s always been it.
But I let her stay there in my arms. Let her nails dig into my skin hard enough to leave marks. Let her breathe against my neck.
My dick twitches.
I clamp my jaw until my teeth grind and shove the thought down deep. Fucking pathetic. I’m not doing this. I’m not letting her get into my head any more than she already is.
The inn was a mistake.
The storm rolled in too fast. I should’ve seen it coming. I’m so fucking tired, and every decision is getting sloppier. Every call I make is half a second slower than it should be.
I need sleep. Real sleep.
Not this half-dead state—staring at doors, listening to her breathe, tracking Savva’s men every five minutes like I’m waiting for one of them to make a move.
My body is running on nothing, and I can feel it in my reactions.
Fuck.
Even the little sleep I get is poisoned now. Old memories keep surfacing—the kind I buried years ago for a reason.
The knife slips and the blade slices across my thumb.
I swear under my breath, slam the knife into its sheath, and press my bleeding hand against my thigh, letting the sting steady me. My mind circles every mistake I’ve made in the last forty-eight hours.
Savva wanted to stop and sleep in the truck.
That was never happening. I wasn’t risking the engine freezing or the truck getting buried, but more than that, I wasn’t closing my eyes in that cab with his men rotating watch like I’m supposed to trust them not to slit my throat the second I lose consciousness.
I don’t sleep where I can’t control every exit.
So I made the call to move.
But she couldn’t make the safehouse. I saw it halfway through the storm—her hands going stiff, her pace breaking. If she’d lost circulation in her fingers or feet, it would’ve become a different kind of problem.
The inn was the only option left.
And to add to the mistake, the woman at the desk asked too many questions. Watched AJ too closely.
“Pretty girl traveling with a man who looks like trouble,” she’d said with a fake smile that never touched her eyes. The way she kept looking at AJ—for too long—like she’d seen her somewhere before.
The Nightshades are everywhere. Spotters. Informants. Greedy locals who’ll sell a description for pocket change and a bottle of vodka. One wrong word and we’re marked.
I should’ve put her down right there behind the counter.
Instead, I paid extra, kept my mouth shut, and got us a room. Now that decision is sitting in my gut like lead. Every extra minute we stayed there was another chance for someone to make a call. Another chance for this whole job to go to shit.
Fucking rookie mistake.
She shifts, her head falling against my shoulder, and I nearly flinch.
Her hair smells like cold air and the last traces of that cheap hotel shampoo. Heat from her body presses into my arm through my jacket, and every muscle in me tenses to keep from shoving her away.
My thumb throbs. Blood seeps into my pants.
Fuck.
I drag my sleeve over the cut and lean harder into the wall, forcing space between us where there isn’t any. I don’t need this. I don’t need her body pressed against mine, her breath brushing my neck, her existence turning every goddamn thing into a complication.
My eyes snap open when I feel Savva staring from across the warehouse.
If that bastard says one wrong word to me right now, I’ll put a bullet in his mouth.
I push to my feet, muscles tight, and haul her up with me.
She goes limp in my arms, half asleep, head falling heavy against my shoulder as I carry her down the hall.
I kick the door open, step into the small room, and drop her onto the cot.
She groans, eyes fluttering open. “Wolff…what—”
“Sleep,” I cut her off, turning toward the door.
“Wait.” Her fingers wrap around my wrist.
My whole body locks. I turn my head just enough to look down at her. Her hand is still around me, frigid against my skin. My nerves tingle from the contact.
“Don’t leave me in here alone.”
“You’ll survive.” I yank my wrist out of her hold.
Something flashes across her face—hurt first, then anger. She pushes off the cot and steps into my space.
“You act like being around me is unbearable. Like touching me is some kind of punishment. But last night, you didn’t seem to mind.”
My jaw clenches enough to crack teeth.
“Shut your fucking mouth,” I bite out.
She gets closer, chest nearly touching mine, eyes blazing.
“I don’t understand why you’re always so cruel to me. You fuck me, you calm me down when I have a panic attack, then you act like I disgust you. What the hell is wrong with you?”
Something hot and violent twists low in my gut. No one has ever pissed me off this much and made me hard at the same time. Last night was a fucking mistake.
“Back the fuck off. Now.”
She lifts her chin. “Make me.”
Her words snap whatever shred of control I still have. I shove her hard.
Her shoulders slam into the wall with a sharp crack, and I’m on her instantly, forearm braced beside her head, caging her in before she can move.
“You think I won’t kill you? Keep pushing me, see what fucking happens.”
Her breathing comes fast, chest brushing mine, but she stares straight into my eyes.
“If you were going to kill me, you would’ve done it already. I’m not scared of you.”
I lean closer until we’re inches apart. “Then you’re even stupider than I thought.”
Her hand flies up.
I catch her wrist before it lands, slam it above her head against the wall, and pin it there hard enough to bruise.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” I snarl.
Her pulse jumps wildly beneath my grip as the tension between us grows thicker.
My free hand lifts of its own accord.
I grab her jaw, fingers digging in, forcing her head back against the wall. My thumb drags across her bottom lip, pulling it down.
That. Fucking. Mouth.
Her lips part, and then she takes my thumb into her mouth. Sucking hard. Her tongue circling it while she glares up at me with pure defiance.
My cock goes rock solid instantly.
Jesus Christ.
She hums around my thumb, lashes fluttering like she’s testing how far she can push me before I snap.
What am I doing? Why am I touching her…?
My grip on her jaw tightens as I slide my thumb deeper into her mouth.
Eyes never leaving her lips, watching the way her tongue swirls, my blood heats.
I yank my thumb out with a wet sound, her lips slick and swollen.
“On your knees.”
She drops instantly, eyes never leaving mine.
I shove my pants down just enough to free my cock. It springs out, already leaking.
“Open your fucking mouth.”
She obeys. Lips parting, tongue flat and waiting like the good Sovereign Slut she is. I grab a fistful of her hair, yank her head forward, and thrust deep into her throat in one hard stroke.
Her hands fly to my thighs, nails digging in. She chokes instantly, spit sliding down her chin, eyes watering as she stares up at me, lips stretched around my length.
Fuck.
She looks so goddamn perfect on her knees.
After a few more thrusts, she tries to reach for her waistband, aching to touch herself. I snatch her wrists, pinning them to the wall above her head with one hand.
“Desperate, pathetic brats don’t get to come.”
Her throat clenches around my cock as she whimpers. I keep my fist twisted tight in her hair, controlling every inch she takes as I rock my hips slow and deep.
“Choke on it.”
Her cheeks hollow, her tongue dragging up the underside of my shaft with every pull. Even as her eyes water, they stay on mine—angry, wet, hungry.
I can’t stop.
I fuck her face harder, watching the tears spill down her cheeks, feeling her throat spasm and flutter around my dick. My weight presses her to the wall, her wrists held high so she can’t touch me, or herself. She can’t do anything but take what I give her.
The slick heat of her mouth is perfect. The wet, choking sounds she makes are fucking me up.
I hit the back of her throat again and again, reveling in how her body trembles. She’s not fighting it. She’s taking it. Wanting it. Her knees press tight to the floor, back arching as she tries to take me even deeper and swallows around me.
“Fuck…solnyshko.”
My release barrels through me, weakening my knees. I hold her head still and pump thick ropes of cum down her throat, eyes transfixed on the way her swollen lips stretch around my cock. She gulps down every drop, sucking and licking gently until I’m completely spent.
When I finally pull out, she gasps for air, coughing and shaking. Her lips are red and shiny, tears streaking her flushed face, but her gaze is still defiant as ever.
I stare down at her, breathing ragged. My cock is still half-hard, slick with her spit. The urge to grab her again to shove back down her throat until she’s gagging and crying and still looking at me like that, it’s fucking unbearable.
This is a problem.
A bad one.
Because this isn’t just her trying to survive anymore.
It’s me wanting to ruin her every chance I get.
I drag my pants back up and force myself to turn away before I do something worse. The door clicks shut behind me, but I can still hear her shaky breaths through the wood.
My fists curl at my sides.
I press my forehead against the wall for a second, eyes squeezed shut, trying to get my shit together.
It doesn’t work.