Chapter 8 – Mike
I walk back to our suite that night, completely dejected. It’s been hours, and we still haven’t gotten a lead on who tried to kidnap Ellie again today. The uncertainty gnaws at me in a way I’m not used to. It introduces me to a kind of fear I’ve never felt before.
On one hand, I’m relieved she’s alive and unharmed. On the other hand, I blame myself. I let her convince me. I let her leave the house. I let her out of my sight.
That mistake could have cost her everything.
I stayed with her most of the afternoon after we got home. The doctor examined the cuts from the glass, cleaned them, and assured me none of them were serious. Ellie insisted she was fine. She even told me to return to work so she could watch television and rest.
She gave me a rare smile when she said it.
I’ve been in the office since then, combing through reports, interrogating updates, pushing my men harder than usual. Now it’s past midnight.
I’m not going to sleep until I find something. I only came upstairs to make sure she’s alright. Once I see that she’s resting, I’ll go back to the office.
I open the bedroom door expecting silence.
Instead, I find Ellie restless in sleep.
She shifts beneath the sheets, her body turning slightly as if she’s trying to escape something inside her dreams. A soft sound leaves her lips—uneven, distressed. I step closer, my attention sharpening immediately.
Her brow is furrowed. Her fingers twist the blanket.
She murmurs something I can’t quite understand.
I move to the side of the bed, watching her more carefully now. Her breathing is uneven, her head turning faintly on the pillow. Then I hear it.
My name.
Not clearly. Just a whisper formed between breaths.
“Mike….”
The sound stops me completely.
For a moment, I just stand there, looking down at her. Something in my chest tightens unexpectedly. I’m used to hearing fear in people’s voices when they say my name. Respect. Sometimes hatred.
But this is different.
She says it like she’s reaching for something.
Slowly, I sit on the edge of the bed.
“Ellie,” I say quietly.
She doesn’t wake. Her body shifts again, the blanket rustling softly as she turns onto her side. The movement exposes the smooth line of her shoulder where the fabric of her nightdress has slipped. Pale skin catches the dim light of the room.
The sound of my name on her lips affects me more profoundly than any confrontation ever has.
I remain still, watching her in the fragile quiet of the room, studying the vulnerability of someone who has no defenses raised. In sleep, she looks younger. Softer. Nothing like the fierce woman who storms into my office and argues with me without fear.
My gaze lingers longer than it should.
Her hand moves slightly on the sheets, and the shift pulls the fabric further down her shoulder.
The delicate curve of her collarbone becomes visible, the creamy skin stark against the dark sheets.
My body reacts instantly, instinctively, and irritation flickers through me at my own lack of control.
I force myself to stand.
Distance. That’s what I need.
But the moment I start to rise, her eyes fly open.
She looks straight at me.
For a brief second, confusion crosses her face. Then awareness floods in—and with it, a soft bloom of pink spreading across her cheeks.
She’s embarrassed.
The sight of it does something dangerous to my composure.
She’s exquisite like this. Barefaced, flushed from sleep, her hair slightly tangled against the pillow.
I step closer again, but this time my movements are careful, deliberate. Not the commanding stride my men expect from me. Something quieter.
“Bad dream?” I ask.
She doesn’t answer immediately, just watches me with those clear, intelligent eyes.
I reach out slowly and brush a loose strand of hair away from her forehead. My fingers move with a gentleness that would shock most people who know me.
Then I lean down and press a restrained kiss to her forehead.
Not possession.
Reassurance.
“You’re safe,” I tell her quietly. “Nothing will happen to you here.”
I’m about to pull away when Ellie rises with me and crashes her lips to mine. I want to be a gentleman and pull away, but I’m not, and I don’t. Instead, I grab her waist and kiss her harder, giving her a chance to pull away.
She doesn’t even try. She melts against me, kissing me back with equal vigor.
The kiss deepens slowly and naturally. We fit together without speaking, and without the need for permission.
Slowly, I deepen the kiss further, gripping her jaw and devouring her like she’s the last fucking meal on earth.
I lose control, pressing my mouth into hers, taking everything she is willing to give
I lay her back on the bed and move over her, careful not to put my full weight on her. She wraps her arms around my neck and slants her mouth over mine, sliding her tongue into my mouth. My cock engorges in my pants to the point of pain.
I slowly tear myself away from her. “Ellie….”
She slowly blinks at me, her eyes filled with desire.
“If you don’t stop me now, I won’t be able to stop myself.”
She slowly sits up. Instead of responding, she slowly pushes the other half of her dress down her shoulders. She reveals her skin until one breast pops out, showing a pink, rosy nipple.
“Fuck,” I curse under my breath.
I’m on her again, kissing her and pushing her back down.
My skin is on fire, and so is my cock. I’m more demanding this time, as I pin her wrists above her head.
She’s soft and yielding beneath me, a perfect contrast to the hard, aching tension in my body.
I break the kiss to trail my lips down the elegant line of her throat, my teeth grazing her skin just enough to make her gasp.
I move lower, my breath hot against her chest as I reach the curve of her breast. I swirl my tongue around that rosy nipple, watching it harden before I take her into my mouth. I suckle her deeply, my hand sliding down to her hip to pull her flush against my cock.
“You’re so beautiful, Ellie,” I growl against her skin.
I continue my path downward, peppering hot, wet kisses over her ribs and the soft dip of her stomach.
Every time I move, she hitches her breath, her fingers digging into my shoulders.
I linger at the silk of her belly, my hands roaming over her curves, worshiping every inch of her as the fire in my blood threatens to pull me under.
I slide her body again, my mouth starving for more. I move to her other breast, eager to savor and devour it just as I did the first. While my lips claim her, my fingers stay busy with the other side, twisting and pulling at the sensitive peak.
Her soft moan vibrates against my skin, and the sound drives me absolutely crazy. I suckle her nipple deeply, the heat of her body fueling my own fire, before I slowly let it pop out of my mouth.
I hover there for a second, watching the wet glisten of her skin in the low light. She’s panting, her chest heaving beneath me, and I’ve never wanted anything more in my life. I press my forehead against hers, my breath coming in ragged hitches as I try to keep even a shred of my sanity.
“Ellie,” I growl, my voice vibrating with the pressure building in my gut. “Tell me to stop. Right now. Because if you don’t, I’m taking all of you.”
“Don’t stop,” she begs, her voice a breathless, broken thing that shatters the last of my restraint. “Please.”
The word is a match to a fuse. I claim her lips again, not with a kiss, but with an assault. My hand snakes down her body, bunching the silk of her nightie, dragging it up and over her head until I strip it off completely. I need her bare. I need to see every inch of what is mine.
My hand slides up the velvet skin of her thigh, slow and deliberate, until I flick a single finger over her clit. She gasps into my mouth, her body jolting as if I’d shocked her. She’s super sensitive, dripping for me, and the sheer heat of her excites me beyond reason.
I play with her, my thumb circling and pressing, enjoying the intoxicating, high-pitched sounds she makes as she tries to catch her breath. Then, I sink one finger into her. She’s so fucking tight I can barely move, her body gripping me like she’s afraid to let go.
I start a slow, punishing rhythm, fucking her with my finger while my thumb continues to wreck her sanity. I bend my head, my mouth closing over one rosy nipple, suckling so hard it draws a sharp, needy cry from her throat.
Her fingers sink into my hair, pulling and tugging, her hips arching off the bed to meet every thrust. I can feel the tension in her legs, the way she’s winding up like a tight spring.
I’m devouring her, my mouth switching between her breasts and her lips, while my hand works her into a frenzy.
I want her screaming my name. I want her to feel exactly how much she’s ruined me.
I try to add another finger, but she stiffens, her breath catching in a sharp hitch. I raise my head, my eyes dark with a hunger that’s becoming impossible to contain. “Relax, Solntse,” I murmur, my voice a low, gravelly vibration. “If you can’t take two of my fingers, how will you take my cock?”
I trail slow, searing kisses down the sensitive column of her neck, my tongue dancing over her pulse point until I feel her tension bleed away. She melts back into the pillows, her body finally relaxing and allowing my second finger to slide home.
I fuck her with them for a full minute, my pace steady and relentless. I watch the way desire clouds her face, her head thrashing against the sheets as she loses herself to the friction. Every slick thrust draws a broken moan from her lips that makes my own blood roar.
Then, I pull out of her.
Holding her gaze, I sink both fingers into my mouth, slowly sucking her juices off my skin. Her eyes shutter with raw lust at the sight, her chest heaving as I growl, “You’re addictive, sweetheart. I want to taste you. Open for me, please. Open for me.”