22. Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Two
Wrenley
The door shuts behind us, sealing us in with the kind of silence that’s charged. I glance at the bed, where the black bag Wrecker mentioned is waiting. A smirk tugs at the corner of my lips.
I look over my shoulder at him, my voice smooth. “Unzip me.”
He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t need to. I hear footsteps behind me, feel the heat of him as he steps in close.
His hands start at my hips, slowly trailing up my sides until they reach the zipper at the base of my neck.
His fingers skim my spine as he tugs it down, and my dress slips just off one shoulder, revealing the barest hint of skin.
His hands are about to wander again, but I take a deliberate step forward, teasing. “Thank you.”
I snatch the bag from the bed and head into the bathroom, ignoring the amused groan that follows me.
Inside, I peel off the dress and step into what I’ve been waiting to show him since he requested it.
Black leather lingerie that hugs me like sin and smoke.
Straps wrap my ribs, buckles glint at my hips, and the plunging neckline leaves nothing to the imagination.
I pull the pins from my hair, watching it fall around my shoulders, wild and soft.
In the mirror, I look like a warning and a promise.
Good. I open the door.
He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees. The moment he sees me, he straightens, something primitive in him has snapped awake. His jaw tightens. His hands curl into fists on his thighs. I don’t even need to look lower; I can feel the shift in the room like gravity.
I glance down at myself, feigning innocence. “Is this what you had in mind when you said something leather?”
His eyes darken. Feral. Hungry. Possessive. “You’re going to ruin me.”
He stands and stalks toward me, slow, but there’s nothing soft about the way he lifts me, hands gripping my thighs as I wrap them around his waist. My back hits the wall. His mouth crashes onto mine, all tongue and need. It’s not a kiss, it’s a war declaration. I surrender.
The way he’s kissing me, our souls are fucking before our clothes even hit the floor. He turns and walks us to the bed, laying me down like I’m breakable. The way he looks at me tells me he's about to do anything but handle me gently. I can’t wait.
Liam pulls back enough to look down at me, eyes dark with heat, a lazy smile curving his mouth, “This…” he says, his voice low and smooth, “Is exactly what I had in mind.”
His fingers drift to the buttons of his shirt, working them open one at a time with a slowness that feels almost cruel.
I prop myself up on my elbows, watching him. “You’re doing that on purpose,” I murmur, dragging one hand slowly up the inside of my thigh while the other cups my breast through the leather. “Trying to kill me with anticipation?”
His eyes flick to my hand, and he groans, faltering on the next button. “You’re evil.”
“You’re taking too long,” I say, biting my bottom lip, tilting my head in that way I know drives him wild.
The rest of his clothes hit the floor faster after that.
He’s on me again, kissing me like he can’t get enough, his hand trailing between my thighs, spreading them slowly.
His mouth finds my neck, teeth scraping skin, and the sharp sting of a bite makes me moan.
He does it again, lower this time, leaving a path of bruises like he’s signing his name.
His hands fumble at the leather straps of my lingerie. He growls in frustration. “How the hell did you get into this thing?”
“Magic,” I whisper with a wicked smile.
“I can’t get it off.” He tugs again, swearing under his breath.
I glance at the nightstand. “You can cut me out of it.”
His head snaps to follow my gaze, landing on the dagger resting beside the lamp.
“Savage,” he mutters, eyes gleaming.
“You like it.”
His hands hover over the dagger for a moment, just long enough to make my pulse quicken, before he grips the handle and turns back to me, eyes dark with desire.
“You trust me?” he asks, voice gravel and heat.
I nod without hesitation, “With my life.”
He kneels beside me on the bed, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “Then hold still, Little warrior.”
The way he says it, possessive, reverent, dangerous, sends a shiver down my spine.
I watch, breath catching, as he brings the blade to my body. His hand doesn’t tremble. Not even a little. He starts at my shoulder, sliding the cold metal beneath one strap of the leather harness. With one careful slice, it gives way.
I can’t help the moan that comes out of me. He smirks and repeats the motion on the other side, eyes never leaving mine.
“This shouldn’t be so fucking hot,” he murmurs, voice thick with restraint. “But here we are.”
A breathless laugh escapes me. “Are you going to narrate the whole thing, or are you going to finish what you started?”
That does it. He groans low in his throat, slipping the blade through the center clasp with precision before tossing it to the side, peeling the leather from my skin like a gift he’s waited years to unwrap.
“Jesus, Wren,” he breathes. “You’re unreal.”
Then his mouth is on me again, hungry and unrelenting. He kisses me like I’m made of fire and he’s willing to burn.
His hand slides between my thighs, fingers teasing until I’m squirming, gasping his name. When he finally replaces his fingers with his mouth, I’m gone, arching off the bed, hand fisting in his hair as his name falls from my lips like a prayer. “Lee—Liam.”
When he comes up, lips slick, eyes blazing, I pull him to me, whispering. “I want you.”
“You’ve got me,” he says, voice rough and aching. “Every fucking piece.”
When he sinks into me, it’s not fast or desperate, it’s deep. Intentional. Worshipping. Every movement is a vow, every kiss a promise. His forehead rests against mine, our breaths tangling, and for the first time in what feels like days, I let go of everything outside this room.
Right now there’s no war. No Sebastian. No scars. Just him. Just me. And the fire we make together.
His mouth is on mine, his hands rough and devouring as they trail down my body, his rhythm is relentless and unforgiving, but then he pulls back just enough to look down at me. My eyes flutter shut.
“Eyes on me, Wrenley,” he growls, the dominance in his voice hitting me like a strike of lightning.
My lashes lift instantly, gaze locking with his. The look in his eyes is ferocious, unyielding. It’s the only thing anchoring me as the world starts to splinter apart beneath his touch.
“That’s my good girl,” he praises, voice thick with hunger and affection. “I want to watch you fall apart underneath me. All of it. Don’t you dare look away.”
His thrusts grow deeper, slower, grinding me just right, his pelvis brushing my clit with every movement. It’s devastating, the control he has, the way he knows my body like a map he memorized in secret.
“You’re the reason hell would open its doors for me.” He breathes against my throat. “Taking me so perfectly.”
My hands scramble for purchase, nails digging into his shoulders, sharp and desperate. I’m right there, right at the edge. “Don’t stop,” I say in a breathy moan. The moment he shifts just right, I fall.
I break with a gasp, shattering beneath him, my body pulsing and trembling in waves that seem to go on forever. My nails rake into his skin, drawing blood, and I swear I see stars. His name leaves my lips in a cry that echoes around us, “Liam, oh my god!”
He groans, low, guttural, wrecked, and then he’s following me over the edge, spilling inside me with a ferocity that borders on obscene. My name is a prayer on his lips.
He doesn’t pull out. Doesn’t even move away. He rolls us to the side, keeping me close, buried inside me like he doesn’t want to lose a single inch of connection. I’m draped over him, both of us breathless and trembling, and everything smells like sex, leather, and him.
He lets out a slow breath, a lazy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“Well, that was new,” he says, his voice still hoarse. “I’ve never used a knife with anyone before.”
I giggle, nuzzling into his chest. “Me either… Well, not in a sexual way.”
He laughs, real and deep, his chest rising and falling beneath me. His hand finds my back, drawing small, aimless circles as the silence between us thickens, not with tension, but with something softer. Something warm and rare.
We lie there tangled together, still joined, still buzzing. The air around us has gone quiet and hazy, the rush giving way to something deeper. Something sacred. Somewhere between the warmth of his arms and the fading burn of pleasure, we fall asleep.