Chapter 16 #2
“Where the hell are you taking me?” she laughs, breathless.
“Need to taste what’s mine.” I grunt.
The whistles in the bar makes me grin like a fool.
“North!” She'se hides her face in my neck.
I squeeze her ass. “Try and stop me, Firefly.”
I kick the office door shut with my boot and set her on the desk, papers scattering to the floor.
She’s still laughing, cheeks flushed, chest rising and falling like she’s been running.
But when I step between her thighs and grip her hips, the laughter dies.
Her lips part, her gaze drops to my mouth, and that’s it.
I drag my tongue along the seam of her lips before claiming her again, deeper this time.
Her fingers fist in my cut, nails digging through the leather.
I break away just long enough to yank her jeans down and off, leaving her in nothing but those tiny black panties she adores.
“You do this to me,” I growl, dragging my fingers along her inner thigh, watching her shiver. “Walk around all night like you don’t know you own me.”
Her breath hitches when I slip my hand under the lace, feeling just how wet she is.
She gasps, clutching the edge of the desk. “North.”
I sink to my knees and hook her legs over my shoulders, tearing the panties down with my teeth. The second my mouth is on her, she arches hard, her head falling back, the sweetest, filthiest moan spilling from her throat.
Her taste—fucking Christ. I could drown in it.
I work her with my tongue and lips, holding her down when she tries to squirm away. Every breath is a plea, every sound a crack in my armor.
And then she screams my name.
Not a whimper or a moan. A scream, raw and desperate. It hits me like a fucking bullet.
Something inside me surges, something I don’t want to name. It’s not just lust, it’s a bone-deep need to give her everything, to keep her like this, wrecked and wild for me alone.
And it terrifies me. I’ve spent my whole life believing love makes you weak. That needing someone is a death sentence. But right now? Hearing my name rip from her throat like that… I’d burn the whole goddamn world just to make her say it again.
I push two fingers inside her, curling them just right, my tongue never slowing. She cries out, clutching my head, and I know she’s close.
“Come for me, Firefly,” I order against her clit. “Now.”
Her body obeys before her mind can catch up, she shatters, clenching around my fingers, her scream echoing off the office walls.
I stay there, tasting every last drop of her release until she’s shaking, breathless, her thighs trembling against my shoulders.
When I finally stand, her eyes are glassy, lips swollen, skin flushed. And the only thought pounding in my skull is mine. Even if that truth scares the living hell out of me.
Her breathing’s still ragged, chest rising fast, eyes locked on me like I’m her next breath.
Before I can say a damn word, she fists my cut and yanks me closer, her other hand already tugging at my belt with that single-minded determination that’s dangerous as hell.
The buckle pops open, the metallic click loud, and then she’s dragging the zipper down, slow, deliberate, knuckles brushing over the thick line of me through my jeans.
Fuck.
My cock jerks at the contact, the barbell piercing catching just enough to make my whole body throb.
Don’t do this, my head warns. Don’t let her in deeper.
But my body’s a traitor, leaning into her touch.
She smiles up at me, that dark, knowing curve of her lips. “Missed this.”
I don’t even remember when I tore those panties off her earlier, only that they’re lying shredded on the floor now, no barrier left between her and what she wants.
She slides her hand inside my jeans, wrapping around me, thumb brushing over the piercing with a slow drag that makes my knees lock to keep me upright.
“Nyxa,” I growl, my forehead dropping to hers.
Her grip tightens. “Say it again.” Such a fucking naughty brat.
“Nyxa.” This time it’s a warning. A plea. A fucking prayer.
She smirks like she knows she’s winning. “Fuck me, North.”
That’s it. I shove my jeans down just far enough and hook my hands under her thighs, lifting her and pinning her to the wall.
Her bare heat presses against me, slick and ready, and when I push into her in one hard thrust, she breaks, head thrown back, body arching, screaming my name.
The sound… fuck. That sound lodges somewhere deep inside me where nothing and no one gets in.
I move in her, each stroke hitting deep, the piercing dragging along her walls, making her nails dig into my shoulders.
She’s gasping, moaning, holding on like she’ll never let go.
And I’m pounding into her like I’m trying to erase something.
Only I’m not. I’m branding it in deeper.
Her lips crash into mine, desperate, teeth scraping my bottom lip. I swallow her moan and thrust harder, needing to hear it again, needing her to say my name like that until the world fucking ends.
When she comes, clenching around me, crying out “North” in that broken, reverent way, it hits me—this is new. This is dangerous. Because it’s not the sex, not the sound. It’s that some twisted part of me wants to keep her screaming my name like that for the rest of her life.
It terrifies me.
So I hold her tighter. I bury my face in her neck, groan her name against her skin, and let go with her.