Chapter 23 Revelations – Belle #2
“You don’t get to make that decision for me.” His dark eyes are fierce. Determined. “If you’re going back to that island, I’m going with you. End of discussion.”
“Max, you’re not trained for this. You’ll get hurt or worse.”
“And you are? Trained for combat operations?” He cups my face again. “We survive together, Belle. That’s how this works. I’m not sitting in this motel room wondering if you’re bleeding out somewhere while I did nothing.”
The parallel to Luna’s earlier argument isn’t lost on me.
“This is different,” I say weakly.
“How? Because you can turn off your emotions, and she can’t?” Max’s thumb brushes my cheekbone. “You’re not as cold as you pretend to be. You’re terrified right now. I can see it in your eyes.”
He’s right. Underneath the calculation and strategy and clinical thinking, I’m absolutely terrified. Of dying. Of failing. Of becoming the kind of person who can watch people suffer and feel nothing.
“I don’t know how to do this,” I whisper. “How to care about someone without it becoming a weakness. Without it being used against me.”
“You don’t have to know. You just have to trust that I’m not going anywhere.” He kisses my forehead gently. “Even when you’re scary and strategic and making plans that might get us both killed.”
A laugh bubbles up despite everything. “I really am scary sometimes, aren’t I?”
“Terrifying.” But he’s smiling. “It’s one of the things I love about you.”
I kiss him then. Hard and desperate and full of everything I can’t say. Max kisses back with equal intensity, his hands sliding into my hair.
We break apart, breathing hard. My body is already responding to his proximity, to the heat of him, to the knowledge that in fifteen hours we’ll be walking back into danger.
“We should rest,” Max says, but his voice is rough. Wanting.
“Should we?” My hands find the hem of his shirt. Start pulling it up.
“Belle.” But he’s helping me, lifting his arms so I can remove it completely.
“One more time before we risk everything.” I’m already working on my own clothes. “I need to feel alive. Need to remember what we’re fighting for.”
But as my hands move to remove my shirt, something shifts in me. The fear, the desperation, the manic energy from earlier. It all turns into something else. Something darker. More primal.
Control.
I need control. Need to reclaim it after days of being watched, manipulated, trapped.
My hands find Max’s chest, pushing him backward until his legs hit the bed. He sits, looking up at me with those dark eyes that see too much.
“Belle?”
“Quiet.” My voice comes out commanding. Cold. The tone I once used when I was gathering intelligence for my father. When I was the one pulling strings instead of being the puppet. “You don’t speak unless I tell you to.”
Something flashes in his eyes. Surprise. Then heat. Understanding.
“Do you trust me?” I ask.
“Yes.” No hesitation.
“Then do exactly what I say.” I step between his legs, my hands finding his belt. “Nothing more. Nothing less.”
I unbuckle it slowly, deliberately. Pull it free from the loops. Max’s breathing has changed. Faster. Shallower. His hands move to touch me.
I catch his wrists. “No. Hands behind your back.”
He obeys immediately, linking his fingers behind him. The position pushes his chest forward, making him vulnerable.
Perfect.
I lean down, my mouth finding his neck. Not gentle. I bite hard enough to leave a mark, to make him gasp. My hands work his jeans open, pushing them down his thighs along with his underwear.
His cock is already hard, straining toward me. I wrap my hand around it, stroking once from base to tip.
Max groans, his head falling back.
“I didn’t say you could make noise.” I squeeze harder. Not quite painful, but close. “Be quiet or I stop.”
He bites his lip, nodding. Those dark eyes are glazed now, pupils blown wide with desire.
I release him and step back, removing my own clothes with deliberate slowness. Let him watch. Let him want. Let him understand that right now, I’m the one in control.
When I’m finally naked, I move back to him. Straddle his lap without taking him inside. Just press my wet pussy against his length, rocking slowly.
The friction is maddening for both of us. Max’s hands are still locked behind his back, his knuckles white with the effort of keeping them there. His jaw clenches as he fights to stay silent.
“Good boy,” I murmur against his ear. “You’re being so good for me.”
I reach between us, positioning the tip of his cock at my entrance. Then I sink down in one slow, deliberate motion. Taking him completely.
Max’s entire body goes rigid. A choked sound escapes his throat.
I still, my hands finding his shoulders. Digging in hard enough to hurt. “What did I say about being quiet?”
“Sorry.” The word is barely a whisper. “Sorry, I’ll be quiet.”
“You will. Or I’ll stop, and you won’t get to finish at all.” I start moving, setting a slow, torturous rhythm. “Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
I ride him with purpose and control, each movement calculated to drive him higher without letting him find release. My nails rake down his chest, leaving angry red lines. He hisses but doesn’t cry out.
“Tell me you’re mine,” I demand, my pace increasing.
“I’m yours.” His voice is strained. Desperate. “Yours, Belle. Only yours.”
“Again.”
“I’m yours. All yours. Whatever you want.”
The words, the submission, the absolute trust in his eyes. It all combines into something overwhelming. I’m close. So close.
My hand slides between us, finding my clit. I work myself in quick circles, chasing my release while Max watches with desperate eyes.
“Belle, please.” He’s begging now, his control slipping. “Please, I need—”
“No.” I’m right on the edge. “You wait. You don’t finish until I say.”
The orgasm hits hard, making my inner walls clench around him. I bite down on his shoulder to muffle my own sounds, tasting salt and sweat.
Max is shaking beneath me, his entire body taut with the effort of holding back.
Finally, I pull back enough to meet his eyes. “Now. Come for me now.”
He breaks with a choked groan, his hips bucking up as he finds his release. I feel him pulse inside me, hot and desperate.
We stay locked together as our breathing slows. Max’s forehead drops to my shoulder, his arms finally coming around to hold me.
“That was…” He trails off, unable to find words.
“Necessary.” I run my fingers through his hair, gentler now. “I needed that. Needed to feel like I had control over something.”
“You always have control.” He pulls back to look at me. “Even when you’re falling apart, you’re still the strongest person I know.”
I want to argue. Want to point out all the ways I’m broken, damaged, becoming exactly what my family made me.
But looking into his eyes, I see only love. Acceptance. Understanding.
“I’m scared,” I admit quietly. “Of tomorrow. Of what we’re walking into. Of losing you.”
“Then we make the most of tonight.” He kisses me softly. So different from the rough intensity of moments before. “We rest. We prepare. And tomorrow, we end this together.”
We clean up and get dressed in silence. The vulnerability of what just happened hangs between us, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s intimate in a different way.
There’s a knock at the door. Agent Smith’s voice carries through.
“Conference in ten minutes. Main office. Everyone who wants to join us needs to be there.”
Max and I exchange a look. This is it. The final briefing before the raid.