35. Liam
LIAM
I kiss her generously. “Relax, Hellion. It will hurt, but I won’t take more than you’re ready to give.”
She nods, but her body is still wary beneath my hands. That’s all right. I will guide her.
Sex isn’t something I fumble through. I understand what I’m doing, and I take my time doing it well.
But with her, it isn’t just pleasure exchanged and finished.
It’s not an obsession people romanticize when they’re infatuated either, though God knows I crave her like one.
With her, sex becomes something shared that stretches past the physical. It builds instead of burning out.
My cock aches to be inside her, but I don’t rush.
I reach for a pillow and slide it beneath her hips, lifting her just enough.
I massage a finger over her anal opening, dipping the tip in and out.
She pushes her ass up, as if saying she’s ready for more.
I sink my finger deeper and this time she whimpers.
“Liam!”
“Too much?”
“No, no. I’m okay. I just…needed to call you.”
That earns her a kiss. I finger her a few more times until her breathing begins to match mine. I reach for the waiting bottle of lube and ease her ass cheeks apart.
She shifts when I pour a generous amount onto her anal entrance.
“Whoa…that’s cold.”
“Sorry, I should’ve warned you,” I say. I then coat my sheathed cock with an equal measure.
I guide myself into her. “Breathe, Hellion,” I murmur, easing the tip of my cock into her ass.
Her body reacts as I claim that first, tight stretch.
“Ssh…you’re doing well,” I reassure as she squirms in pain.
I press on, and slowly her body melts into acceptance.
“That’s it,” I whisper.
I lower myself, bracing on my elbows so I don’t crush her with my weight.
“Liam!” She whimpers as I inch further inside.
I stroke the small of her back in slow, soothing passes. “You’re okay, Helena?”
“Yes…go on,” she says, the tension in her easing until it almost feels like an invitation.
I inch deeper, drawn in by the shift. “Tell me how it feels.”
“It’s like being burned,” she breathes, her hand looking for mine. When she finds it, her fingers tighten on me. “But it makes me crave it.”
“Good to hear that.” I roll my hips gradually, watching the way her expression changes with every movement.
“How far do you want to go?” She turns to look at me. “Show me what you’re imagining.”
“Like this.” I don’t need to go any deeper, she’s already everything. “Exactly like this.”
“We can try more?”
“This is more than enough, Helena,” I say, kissing behind her ear. It’s time I focus on another part of her.
I brace myself on one arm, letting the other slide down to reach her pussy. I stroke it, aware of the freshly shaven skin around it. I part the lips, then round her clit over and over—turning her from fevered to receptive.
I whisper close to her ear. “I’m gonna make you come like this. Fingers inside your pussy, and my cock will be right here.” I nudge my shaft against her ass muscle. “Do you want that?”
“Yes. I want that.”
I pick up the pace, not for myself, but for her. My hips thrust with focus while my hand keeps working her clit.
“Come with me,” I say.
“I need more, Liam.”
And I give it to her, and however long she needs.
“Better?” I say.
“Yes…” Her voice strains as I rock her.
With her on her belly, I can’t see her face clearly. But I don’t need to. I feel her every tremor. Every faltering breath. The way her body goes taut beneath my hands tells me she’s right there.
“Liam!”
I lean over her, one hand braced beside her shoulder, the other still inside her, drawing it out, making her wait for it. Then I push my cock a little deeper. The way her muscles pinch at the crown jolts me and I almost fall on my own sword.
She makes a sound—high, desperate. That’s when I give it to her. One final, precise stroke of my fingers and a push of my hip.
She topples.
Her back arches, muscles clenching so hard it shocks my system. The force of it hits me like electricity, and I follow her over the edge, release tearing through me. I’ve chased pleasure before, but I’ve never climbed anything like this. The high is long. Spectacular. Nerve-shredding.
But I don’t stay lost in it. The second it passes, I shift, rolling her gently so I can see her face.
“Helena.” My voice is rough. “Are you okay?”
Her eyes flutter open, and a slow smile spreads across her face, satisfyingly glorious.
“Yeah.” She lets out a quick, almost disbelieving exhale. Then she grins, knowing exactly what she just got a taste of. “So we’ve done it?”
“You did fucking well, Hellion.”
I give her lips a grateful, reverent kiss. My hands roam over her body, no longer hungry but soothing, thanking her for trusting me—for going there with me.
We lie there in the aftermath, skin to skin, breath gradually evening out. After a moment, I reach toward the side table and grab a glass of water.
“Here,” I say, guiding it to her lips.
She gulps it down. Then I refill it and drink from it myself.
I pull her back into me, drawing the crisp cotton sheet over us. Her head rests over my heart like she belongs there. I slide my fingers into her hair. It’s damp and tangled from sweat. I smooth it back from her face, combing through it slowly, wiping the sheen from her temple.
“Do you prefer the Game? Or this?” I ask.
She repositions, pondering. “That’s not a fair question.”
“Why?”
“Because they’re different.” She shrugs. “Tonight feels…bigger. Like I crossed something.”
“And the Game?”
“The Game just woke up parts of me I’d been ignoring.”
“Is that so?” I say. “I didn’t realize Hellion came with a reflective setting.”
She laughs as she absently combs her fingers through the hair on my chest. “You know what, Liam Hunt? I wouldn’t mind a truth-or-dare. Just us. Here.”
“Here? Now?”
“Yeah, if it’s not too much.” She rubs her bent knee against my balls.
“Jesus…you’re very persuasive,” I growl, countering the friction. “All right. Go on.”
“Truth or dare,” she says. “If there’s something in your past you want me to know first, what is it?”
“It’s not very cheerful.”
“The past rarely is.”
I stare at the ceiling, her fingers resting on my chest.
“I told you I ran away from home when I was fifteen, and took Max with me.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I managed because I shot my father.”
She lifts her head, then casts me a look that reassures the space stays mine.
“We were supposed to leave at dawn. But he woke up and caught us in the middle of it. He was about to grab Max. Max was slower, he always was back then. And my father had that look.” I swallow, even now it still twists something inside me. “The one that meant someone was about to pay.”
She’s the first person I’ve trusted with this. And once it starts, I find I don’t want to stop.
“We’d had enough. Max never deserved any of it.” My jaw sets. “I stole the gun before we left. The old man had shown me how to use it a few times at a range. Nothing heroic. Just enough to make a point.”
I tug at the sheet unnecessarily. Helena stays quiet beside me.
“When he started to run for Max, I fired. I aimed for his arm. I remember that clearly. I wanted him down, not dead. But my hand shook. It went right and hit his chest.”
Silence hums between us.
“He lived. That bastard clung on.” I scoff. “Maybe that’s the one decent thing he ever did for me. He took the bullet and kept breathing. So I don’t have to carry a corpse along with everything else.”
“I’m sorry you had to do that,” she says. “You did what you had to.”
“Damn right I did. After that, we never had to wonder who was coming through the door. Never had to guess whether it’d be a belt or bare hands. Or what mood they’d be in when they stumbled home from wherever the hell they’d been.”
The room stills, the wind pressing against the window the only sound between us.
“My father was always like that,” I say after a moment. “But my mother…she folded around him, like a puppet made of paper.”
I stare past the ceiling, and for a moment I see a different place entirely.
“I don’t think she could handle the pain. Or the fear. So she convinced herself it was easier to let it happen.” I press my molars together. “Easier to become him, even if it meant sacrificing us.”
Helena reaches for my hand. “I’m sorry about the question. I didn’t think—”
My hand tips her chin. “Since when do you apologize, Hellion?” I brush my mouth over hers. “Don’t.” My hand settles at the back of her neck. “Now I want your truth.”
She searches my face. “Okay,” she says. “My mother committed suicide when I was six. She had postpartum depression after giving birth to Olivia. I wasn’t easy.
Dad checked out. Mom was left alone with two kids and a mind that was breaking.
She didn’t have the strength to care for herself anymore.
” Her voice strains. “I took up too much space. I pushed her over the edge.”
She curls closer, pressing into my chest. I wrap my arms around her immediately.
“Helena,” I say, firm enough that she feels it. “You don’t get to carry that.”
She inhales sharply.
“You were six,” I continue, my hand sliding to cradle the back of her head. “Six-year-olds don’t push anyone over edges. Illness does. Neglect does. Adults who don’t step up do.”
She looks at me, eyes glistening.
“You were a child who needed protecting.” I kiss her hairline, slow and tender. “You take up space because you’re meant to. And anyone who made you feel otherwise failed you.”
Her hand grips my side. The breath that leaves her sounds like something unlatched.
“Nobody ever said that to me,” she quavers.
“You just hadn’t met someone who could say it and mean it.”
She gathers me closer as if reinforcing that someone is me, and me alone. Her lips brush my chest, then my shoulder. She fits against me like she was carved for it. Like we both survived what we had to, and somehow found each other.
“You still want that whole fish?” I ask.
She tries for a lady-like reaction. It lasts a second before her grin wins.
“I’ll order it,” I decide.
“Here?” she requests.
“Of course.” My palm glides over her warm ass cheeks. I know exactly how sensitive she is right now. “You think I’m putting you on a hard chair after that?”
She presses into my hand. “That. And I’m not getting dressed again.”
“Fine. I prefer you like this anyway.”
Her eyes flash. “And I want strawberries. Picked this morning. Not yesterday. And I want you to feed them to me.”
A low laugh slips from my throat. “Done,” I say. “I’ll have them here before you start doubting me.”
I draw her in and kiss her. After what she trusted me with tonight, the rest of the world reduces to mere logistics.