Chapter 26
Chapter twenty-six
Seraphina
Meddle About – Chase Atlantic
Trey moves around the kitchen in silence, his back to me, sleeves rolled up, veins flexing in his forearms as he stacks the dishes and wipes the counter. The low hum of the fridge fills the quiet, the only sound between us besides the uneven rhythm of my heartbeat.
I should move. Speak.
But I can’t. I’m frozen—watching him, the way his hair falls over his forehead, the way the muscles in his shoulders shift beneath his shirt with every motion.
When he closes the cupboard he turns slightly, light catching the silver ring at his lip, the words fall out of me before I can stop them.
“I want to,” I whisper. My voice trembles, but the truth of it rings clear. “I want you.”
Trey stills, his hands on the edge of the counter, his knuckles tightening.
“I know that I shouldn’t.” I go on, the words spilling faster now, like water breaking through a dam. “But I do. And I have this…hot feeling inside me that I’ve never felt before. It’s like fire. It’s…it’s whenever I look at you. Or you touch me. Even just a gentle touch, I feel—”
He turns then, that slow, devastating smile spreading across his lips, dimples cutting into his cheeks.
“—and those dimples,” I breath out, helplessly, shaking my head. “Those stupid dimples make me almost lose my mind.”
He takes a step toward me, eyes darkening.
I swallow hard, my voice barely a whisper. “I don’t know why my body reacts this way around you. I just…do.”
Trey looks at me like he’s trying to find the will to breathe. Then something in him snaps. The space between us disappears in an instant. His hand slides along my jaw, his fingers threading into my curls, holding me still as his forehead drops to mine.
“Seraphina…”
“I know I have asked so much. I shouldn’t ask more…I’m greedy. Pathetic. I should repent. Maybe I can pray the feelings away, go back to being numb to it all…”
Shut up. You have asked more than any should of another. No good Samaritan will humor your plight.
I barely manage a breath before his other hand finds my waist, the heat of his touch searing through the fabric. My name leaves his lips again, rougher than before, and then he’s pulling me closer, his strength effortless, lifting me like I weigh nothing.
A startled gasp escapes me as the whole world tilts, my hands clutching at his shoulders.
My legs instinctively tighten around him, holding on.
He buries his face in the hollow of my neck, exhaling like he’s been holding his breath for days.
The sound that leaves him is low, raw, and it sends something spiraling through me.
My head spins, breath jagged. When he sets me down on the counter, the room feels smaller. Hotter. He stands between my knees, close enough that I can feel every ragged breath he takes. One hand lingers at my thigh, but it doesn’t wander—just presses there.
For a heartbeat, neither of us move, then he whispers against my skin, voice rough, breaking apart.
“You can do better than me, Dove. I can’t give you what you want.”
You already have. You’ve been my salvation, even when you were supposed to be my ruin.
I want to tell him he’s good—that the darkness in him doesn’t erase the light—but the words tangle in my throat.
“You are what I want,” I whisper.
He moves, just enough to make the air catch in my lungs. The hardness of him presses against the softness of me, and I feel the heat coil low in my belly.
Sin.
Pleasure.
Something too sacred, too dangerous to survive.
Why do I crave this? Why does it feel like worship?
My eyes fall shut, and I let him consume me.
“Please…” My voice shatters, and I don’t even care that it’s desperate. “More.”
If sin had a taste, it would be Trey Baker.
I don’t know if this is Greed, Gluttony, or Lust—maybe it’s all of them.
I think, for the first time, I understand what damnation truly means… Only I don’t care.
Because if I’m destined to burn, let it be with Trey Baker beside me.
“Tell me to stop…or I won’t.” A shiver rips through me when his lips descend on the curve of my neck again, breath hot and uneven.
“Don’t stop…please. Don’t stop.” My hands fumble in his hair, nails digging in, needing more of him, needing to feel every inch of him pressed against me. He tilts his head, dragging his mouth down toward my chest, and the oversized shirt I’m wearing does nothing to shield me from the fire of him.
A gasp leaves me as he presses his mouth against my breast through the thin cotton, lips and teeth working in ways I didn’t know could make me this exposed.
My back arches, hips pressing up, aching for more friction, more of him.
Every sound that leaves me is raw, unrestrained, and I feel him shiver at it.
“Please…Trey…please,” I pant, hands clawing at his shoulders, pulling him closer. “I need…”
“I know what you need, baby,” he murmurs, eyes locked on mine, stormy and dark. One hand slides slowly up my thigh, teasing closer, brushing against the top of my panties. My breath catches in my throat, eyes widening as I nod, letting him know that it’s okay—that I want this.
That I want him.
His mouth moves back to my chest, sucking and nipping at my nipple through the fabric, drawing a moan from deep inside me, one I didn’t know I could make.
“Holy fuck, baby…your pussy is crying for me.” He groans, one hand cupping me over the fabric, thumb rolling in slow, exquisite circles.
My hips buck instinctively, grinding toward him, craving his touch even more.
I let out a breathless moan, pulling him closer.
I don’t know what he’s doing. I don’t know what my body is doing. My chest aches with need.
“Please…Trey…don’t stop…”
He leans down, lips brushing mine in a rough, scorching kiss.
The cool metal of his lip ring scrapes against me, a flash of pain that sends fire racing through my veins.
My body responds before my mind can catch up, every nerve alight, every breath shallow.
“Do you want my fingers inside you? Do you want to show me how pretty you are when you cum riding them?” His gaze never leaves mine, dark and intense, and I shiver at the promise in his words, nodding frantically, unable to speak.
Do what you will, I permit it.
He leans closer, gaze dark and burning. “Give me your words, Dove.”
“Yes,” I breathe, and it’s more than consent—it’s a surrender.
Trey’s hands are on my hips, thumbs hooking under the waistband of my panties.
He slowly—torturously slowly—drags them down just enough to tease, every second stretching and coiling in my chest. Then he traces the lines of my thighs, as if memorizing the feel of every inch of me.
My breath catches, knees trembling, hips lifting slightly toward him without thinking.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he groans, hands moving in slow, deliberate strokes over my skin, making me shiver and burn. He crouches before me, and the heat of him pressing close, chest nearly touching my thighs, has me trembling in ways I didn’t think possible.
His hands drift lower, lingering, teasing the soft skin just over me, fingertips brushing, tracing, drawing out every gasp.
My chest rises and falls, heart hammering.
I can’t stop myself—my hands grip his shoulders, my legs twitch, trying to close the distance, but he keeps just enough space, driving me wild.
“Show me how you like it, wife,” he murmurs, voice rough. “Show me how you play with your pussy.”
Heat floods me, raw and instant, and I gasp, shiver and whine, unable to resist.
“I’ve…I’ve never done that.” I say breathlessly, half mad.
My hands move instinctively, tracing over myself, hips rocking into him, wanting, needing, desperate for every ounce of his attention.
Trey’s mouth drops open as his eyes find mine, dark, hungry, and absolutely relentless, as if every sound I make fuels the fire between us.
Trey straightens, his hands gripping my thighs firmly, spreading me wider, and the heat of him so close it’s almost unbearable. My breath catches at the feel of his body inches from mine, every muscle coiled, every movement deliberate.
“You’ve never touched yourself?” His voice is low, husky, edged with disbelief.
I shake my head.
“Fuck, baby, that’s…” He swallows hard, the green in his eyes darkening to black, shadows crawling over them. “I’m going to ruin you.”
The words hit me like fire. My body clenches and aches, betraying me with need I can’t control. I should pull away, I tell myself. I should resist. But the truth claws out of me before I can stop it.
I want him. I need him.
“Then ruin me,”
Unmake me.
I beg, fingers thumbling over his chest, pulling at his shirt, clumsily stripping it from him.
My hands glide over warm skin, across solid muscle, and I can feel his heartbeat under my palms. I lean forward, lips brushing where I touch, kissing where my fingers linger, and a shiver rips through him.
“I ache, Trey…” I confess, breathless, chest rising and falling as my hips shift instinctively toward him, craving more of his closeness.
He groans in response, letting his hands travel slowly over me again, thumbs pressing into sensitive skin.
His mouth hovers at my collarbone, leaving a trail of heat wherever it lands, and I can’t help the whine that escapes me, shaking, desperate for every inch of him.
He sucks at my pulse, sharp teeth biting my skin, and I gasp, the sting blooming.
Then he licks, and my body arches instinctively.
His tongue soothing the pain. I shiver at the delicious contradiction—hurt and pleasure tangled into one.
My hips move on reflex, the ache between my thighs building rapidly.
His mouth closes over my breast, teeth and tongue working together, and I throw my head back, a breathy moan ripping from me as my eyes fly open.
He tugs my nipple through the thin cotton of my shirt, and his hand slides up my thigh, brushing over the center of me.
My breath catches, a heat I’ve never known pooling between my legs.
My stomach clenches, twists, convulses, each pulse a surge of fire.
Ecstasy, euphoria, bliss—I melt, a puddle of sensation beneath his touch, trembling even as his hand slowly pulls away, his mouth releasing me.
“My baby’s got a hair trigger, huh? My wife.” He bites at my lips, driving me wild. “You’re so fucking wet.”
“S-s-sorry…” I pant, my voice betraying me, trembling with need I can’t contain.
“Don’t be sorry,” he growls, his lips ghosting over mine, heat and promise in every word. “I want you to make a mess of me. Do you understand? I want you so wet that you’re dripping. Are you going to give me what I want?”
My body trembles under him, every nerve alive, every thought consumed by need.
Yes… yes, I’ll give it to you.
My mouth opens, but my body screams the truth he must surely know. I am his, completely, and I don’t care that it’s sinful. I need him to want this as much as I do.
Heat coils tighter inside me with every filthy word that falls from his lips, each syllable setting my body ablaze.
Every touch ignites a fire I don’t want to extinguish.
I am betraying myself, and yet…I wouldn’t stop it for the world.
A shiver of need wracks me, and I whimper in response as his fingers move in slow, teasing stokes.
“Do you want me to stop?”
I shake my head, body trembling, breath hitching, a moan escaping me despite every shred of control.
“I fucking love the sounds you make. How quickly you respond to my touch,” he growls, pressing down on the bundle of nerves between my legs.
I cry out, arching against him, again lost and helpless.
His mouth closes over my breast once more, and then, torturously slow, he pushes a finger inside me.
A strangled, shivering sound leaves me, raw and breathless, and we both glance down, watching the slow in and out motion.
I feel myself clenching uncontrollably, knees trembling as wave after wave of sensation crashes through me.
I am transfixed, caught in a never-ending current of bliss, every nerve alight, every thought dissolving into the fire he’s ignited inside me.
Then he pulls his finger from me bringing it to his mouth, sucking up my wetness with a low, guttural groan. My mouth pops open in shock and desire. I reach out, taking his wrist, guiding his finger to my lips, sucking it in, tasting him, tasting myself.
“Fucking hell...baby, you keep surprising me.” He murmurs, returning his hand to me, as his lips find mine in a deep, hungry kiss.
Tongue and teeth collide with mine, every motion demanding, insatiable.
My hands clutch his shoulders as his finger slides inside me again, slow, deliberate, each movement setting my nerves alight.
Then he pushes a second finger in, and I clench around him, breath catching, my body trembling.
He leans back slightly, watching me writhe beneath him, and I lift my hips instinctively, grinding against him.
His groan rumbles through me—rough, low, full of heat.
“That’s it.” He breathes. “Ride my fingers, baby. Such a good girl.”
I do. I rock against him, each movement sends fire through me.
The tension builds impossibly high, until it shatters, and release crashes over me in hot, trembling waves.
I call his name, and my body goes utterly boneless in his arms, shaking and spent.
Gently, he eases his fingers out, then wraps my legs around him, carrying me effortlessly from the kitchen to the bedroom.
My head rests against his chest, heart still hammering.
I don’t recognize who I am…why my body is forcing me to act like this… but I love it.
Trey Baker is sin I never want to resist.