the fall wasn't fatal

Chapter 1: Our First Time

"Mmm, you smell so good," Valko murmured with his face buried in my neck.

Letting out a giggle as his warm breath tickled my skin, I scrunched my shoulder up and turned my head. "I’m sweaty from hiking all the way up here. I smell disgusting."

His golden eyes flicked with something that almost looked like offense. He lifted his head; wolf ears twitching rapidly against his skull. "Wrong," he said, voice low and rough like gravel. "You smell like you. Sunshine on leaves... warmth after the rain." A pause then quieter. "Mine."

My lips parted at the way ‘mine’ sounded in that deep growly voice and I felt heat pool in my lower belly. Everything about my wolf had a way of making my heart pound and my body go haywire but his voice… when it got like this? It sent shivers down my spine and made me burn.

His ears flicked again then he sniffed the air, a low rumble vibrating in his chest when the scent of my arousal hit his nostrils. Without warning, he pulled me into his lap and buried his face in my neck before pressing a kiss against my skin right where my pulse fluttered.

One large hand slid up to cradle the back of my head while the other pressed firmly against my lower back, pulling my body flush against his so I could feel how hard he was. He didn’t speak anymore. Didn’t need to… I knew what he wanted, needed, because I needed it too.

Heated kisses trailed up my jawline… slow… deliberate… until his mouth was hovering near mine. Golden eyes raised, searching mine like he was asking permission without words.

Smiling, I closed the space between us until our mouths were almost touching, letting him know he had permission. My wolf always would.

For a heartbeat, he just stayed there, eyes still searching mine and his breath warm against my lips then his hand tightened in my hair, and he closed that final half inch of distance.

The kiss wasn’t gentle. It was claiming, fierce and deep. His mouth moved against mine with desperate hunger as if he’d been starving for me all day long. Another growl rumbled through him as he licked my bottom lip, a primal sound that vibrated down to my bones.

There was no hesitation in him now; no caution left as if unsure of what I wanted. Just heat. Need. Wanting everything in the right here and right now: my taste on his tongue… my body pressed so tightly against his we could’ve become one being.

Between one breath and the next, I was on my back beneath him. The soft moss of the forest floor cushioned my body as moonlight filtered through leaves above, painting his face in silver and shadow as he loomed over me. His golden eyes glowed like embers now, his breath uneven and ragged. The weight of him above me was warm, solid… safe.

His lips crashed back onto mine again and I gasped into the kiss as one large hand slid under my shirt, his palm skimming up my side. A low whine escaped him when I tangled both hands in his red hair and gently ran my fingertips over one of those velvety wolf ears… right along the sensitive spot that always made his breath hitch.

His kiss faltered for half a second, breath catching audibly before he groaned into my mouth—low, helpless, needy— as that one touch sent him spiraling. His grip tightened on my side almost painfully as if he couldn’t decide whether to pull me closer or collapse entirely.

Then he broke the kiss to press his forehead against mine. Eyes shut tight. Chest rising fast under the dark fabric of his T-shirt. Hands fisted on the ground on either side of my head. "Can I…?" The words hung between us, fragile and heavy all at once.

Can I…? No need to finish the sentence. I knew what he meant. Not just kissing or touching but everything beyond it. The next step. Taking things further than we had before.

Reaching up, I placed my palms on his cheeks and whispered, "Yes."

The second that single word left my lips, something in him snapped. He let out a sharp exhale then his mouth was on mine… fiercer this time, hungrier, desperate like he’d been waiting years instead of weeks for this moment.

His hand flew from the ground to cradle my face, one thumb brushing over my cheekbone while the other tangled gently in my hair then he was moving lower, trailing kisses down my jaw… along the column of my throat. When his lips reached that sensitive spot where neck met shoulder, he paused and pressed a kiss there before gently nipping at it with his sharp teeth.

A tiny whimper escaped my throat and I arched, pressing my chest against his.

He hummed in satisfaction then kissed the same spot again then lower. His mouth glided down to my collarbone, each touch deliberate and reverent despite the hunger I could feel in his body. When he reached the hollow of my throat, he paused then blew softly, a teasing puff of air against my sweat slick skin that made me shiver.

His hands moved, sliding beneath my back and urging me to sit up then he pushed the fabric of my shirt up and over my head. The cool night air kissed my bare skin for a second before his warm hands were on me. Large, rough palms gliding up my sides and along my ribcage with a gentleness that contradicted his size.

His touch was electric. Every brush of his skin against mine sent sparks dancing under my flesh. When his thumbs grazed the undersides of my breasts through the lacy material of my bra, I sucked in a breath and pressed closer, craving more contact.

Those gorgeous golden eyes darkened at the unspoken plea and without hesitation, he lowered his head again and pressed warm lips against the swell of one breast. The contact was soft at first then he grew bolder. His lips parted, and I felt the warm, wet heat of his tongue right where one lace-covered nipple was.

A moan slipped from me before I could stop it.

He froze for a heartbeat, eyes lifting to mine for reassurance, and seeing only need there he became more insistent. One large hand slid around to unhook my bra with surprising deftness, and in seconds his mouth closed over my nipple.

The sensation made me gasp and dig my nails into his scalp. His lips were firm yet surprisingly gentle as they worked over the sensitive peak, alternating between soft suckling kisses and teasing flicks of his tongue that sent jolts straight to my pussy.

One hand moved up to cradle my other breast while he lavished attention on one side—his thumb brushing slow circles around the neglected nipple until it peaked tight with need. Every little touch burned; every breathy sigh he made vibrated through me. The world narrowed to the heat of his mouth, the scrape of his teeth, the way his hands worshipped every inch they touched. He took his time… methodical in a way that made my head spin. Like he wanted to memorize this moment.

His lips finally left my breast only to trail lower… down my sternum over my stomach to my lower belly… each kiss a soft promise. When he reached the waistband of my shorts, he paused again. This time not to seek permission, but because this was new territory for us.

We had held hands… hugged… kissed… but never this.

Without breaking eye contact with my beautiful wolf, I unbuttoned and unzipped my shorts then lifted myself slightly, helping him tug them and my underwear down and off my legs. Once they were off, he removed my hiking boots and socks then sat back on his heels to look at me.

Moonlight painted my pale skin silver as I leaned back on my elbows with my legs spread slightly. For a second, I felt exposed and completely vulnerable under that intense golden gaze.

He didn’t say a word. He just looked. At my breasts. The softness of my belly. The curves of my hips. The dip of my waist. The shaved mound between my thighs glistening in the low light.

The evidence of my need is what made his nostrils flare. His pupils blew wider, swallowing the gold of his eyes. The muscles in his jaw flexed as he swallowed hard then he reached out and dragged one fingertip from my hipbone along the sensitive skin where hip met groin.

Every nerve ending lit up under that single touch and I was almost to the point of begging for more but then he leaned forward and pressed a kiss above the opening of my pussy. A whisper-soft brush of lips that made me tense and squirm slightly to try to get his mouth lower.

A tiny smile tugged at one corner of his mouth as he lowered his head, pressing his nose against the flesh above my entrance and breathing in deeply. A low, reverent sound rumbled from deep in his chest then he pressed his mouth right where I was hottest, wettest… neediest.

His nose nudged against my clit as he dragged the flat of his tongue up through my folds. A single long lick from bottom to top that made every muscle in my body tense and arch off the ground with a sharp cry that sent birds scattering from the trees.

The sound seemed to ignite something in him and his restraint shattered. He descended on me with hungry precision, sealing his mouth over my clit and sucking hard.

I nearly came undone right then. My hands flew to his hair again, fingers tightening as he began licking in quick circles around the sensitive bud before switching back to gentle suckling kisses that made sparks explode behind my eyelids.

A moan tore from me as I squirmed, hips lifting instinctively toward his face like a flower seeking sunlight. He let out a low growl, hands coming up to grip my thighs to hold me still then he pushed his tongue into my pussy as far as he could get it. My back arched off the mossy ground and a broken sob escaped me as I my pussy clamped down on his tongue and I came. "Valko!"

He didn't let up, not even when I trembled from my orgasm. He kept working with relentless focus. Alternating between soft licks, gentle nips just shy of painful and deep thrusts of his tongue before he would seal his mouth over me to suck slowly, drawing out every sensation until it bordered on unbearable ecstasy... then without warning, he slid two fingers inside me.

The stretch was sudden but welcome. His fingers were thick, calloused from years of wilderness survival, and they curled just right. The wet sounds of his mouth working between my thighs mixed with the slick slide of his fingers sent heat flooding through me. He knew exactly how to angle his hand to press against that sweet spot deep within. How to lick, suck and nibble while occasionally thrusting his tongue inside along with his fingers.

The sensations were overwhelming—a relentless storm of pleasure building again far too soon after my first orgasm. My thighs trembled around his head, and I could feel sweat beading on my forehead, neck and chest despite the cool night air. A whimper turned into a long, drawn-out moan when he added a third finger without warning, stretching me further. He scissored them slightly to stretch me before picking up speed again.

This time… this time I didn’t last nearly as long before another climax crashed over me like a tidal wave, stronger than before judging by how violently every muscle in my body tensed then released under another wave of ecstasy. His fingers stayed buried inside me through it, curling gently as my body pulsed around them. When my body finally loosened, he pulled his mouth and fingers away, pressing tender kisses along my inner thighs and hips.

I was a trembling mess beneath him—breathless, flushed, and boneless. Every nerve still tingled with residual sparks as he kissed his way back up my body. Over my stomach… leaving little nips that made me squirm, across each rib… his tongue swiping slow circles where I was most sensitive then between my breasts… until finally his lips met mine again in a deep kiss.

And oh, the taste of myself on his tongue was erotic. Salty-sweet and undeniably intimate.

When he pulled back, he pressed his forehead to mine, nuzzling my temple with affection before murmuring, "You okay, little wolf?"

I smiled at the nickname. It was something he’d never called me before and my heart swelled as I reached up to trace his jawline with my fingertips. "More than okay," I whispered, voice still a little shaky. "Perfect."

His expression softened at that. He caught my hand and pressed a kiss to my palm before turning his head to nip playfully at the tip of one finger. Then he leaned down again, not for another deep kiss this time but to trail soft pecks along my cheekbone… across the bridge of my nose… then finally resting his lips against mine in a chaste but lingering press.

When he pulled away, those gorgeous eyes searched mine as if looking for something for a moment before he spoke. "I need you. Are you… are you ready for more? For me?"

I nodded, my heart pounding so hard I was sure he could hear it. My fingers slid down the column of his throat and curled into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer as I answered in a whisper thick with want. "Yes. Please."

That was all the confirmation he needed. With a quiet exhale that sounded relieved, he kissed me then sat back and yanked off his T-shirt. Moonlight spilled over every defined ridge of his torso…. broad shoulders, muscled chest and perfect abs tapering to a lean waist where black jeans sat low on his hips.

The sight of him like this… bare-chested, golden skin glowing under the moonlight… made my mouth go dry. His muscles were bulky but not overly so… more lean and powerful from years of hunting, climbing trees, and surviving in the wild than anything.

Without breaking eye contact, he reached for his belt buckle with one hand while keeping the other braced beside me on the ground. The leather slid free with a quiet click that echoed in the quiet of the night. His jeans were kicked off haphazardly followed by his boots and socks then he was as bare as I was. My Valko… naked and so very beautiful.

I couldn't resist reaching out and running my palms over those sculpted abs before skimming higher to explore each ridge of muscle in his chest. He inhaled sharply when I brushed my fingers over one nipple then let out a growl when I scratched the tight bud with a fingernail.

He caught one wrist, holding eye contact while nibbling on his bottom lip and guiding my hand lower. Down over the firm planes of his stomach… past the narrow line of red hair that began just below his navel… then he wrapped my fingers around his cock.

He was thick. Heavy in my hand with heat radiating through the skin like embers under silk. The head was flushed dark red and glistening faintly at the slit, evidence of how much he wanted this… me. "Mmm…" he sucked in a sharp breath; eyes fluttering shut as I tightened my grip and gave his length an experimental squeeze from root to tip.

I stroked him slowly and steadily after that, the motion deliberate as I explored every inch of his beautiful cock: the ridge along his crown where it widened just before tapering down to base; how the thick vein along the underside stood prominently; how soft yet firm he felt against my palm when I squeezed gently.

His golden eyes opened again then narrowed on mine, pupils blown so wide they swallowed all but a thin ring of amber light and when I gave another slow pump upward while swiping my thumb over that sensitive spot just beneath his tip…

"Fuck," he muttered before dropping down on top of me and kissing me fiercely. One hand braced against the ground beside my head while the other guided the tip of his cock to my entrance then he broke away just long enough to whisper, "Tell me stop anytime."

"No stopping," I breathed out, lifting my hips slightly to meet him.

His breath hitched, eyes burning into mine with raw intensity. For a heartbeat, he hovered there… just the broad head of his cock pressed against my slick heat and his heart pounding against mine then he pushed forward. Slowly. Carefully.

The feeling was delicious—a fullness that made me gasp and clutch at his shoulders as inch by thick inch slid inside. He didn’t rush it though; every movement was deliberate and controlled so I could adjust to his size, despite the way his jaw clenched and the tendons stood out in his neck.

When he was fully seated, he stayed still for a long moment, forehead resting against mine and breath coming in short puffs across my lips. Then slowly… he pulled back until only the tip remained inside me before pushing forward again, a shallow thrust that made us both gasp.

Then he did it again. And again. And again. Each movement slowly building in rhythm until he was pounding into my pussy so hard I couldn’t help but reach up and dig my nails into his shoulders to hold on as my body slid on the mossy ground. "Oh…"

The sound of my broken and breathless pleasure seemed to unravel the last thread of his control. A guttural growl tore from his throat then he sat back on his heels and gripped my hips, lifting my lower body so my ass was resting on his thighs then he started thrusting harder, deeper.

Every snap of his pelvis sent shockwaves through me, each thrust deeper and more urgent than the last. The slap of skin on skin echoed in our little moonlit clearing, mingling with the ragged breaths and low moans escaping both of our lips.

The new angle was perfect. Every thrust hitting that sweet spot inside me with precision and sending white-hot sparks shooting up my spine. My back arched off the ground as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in my belly, each snap of his hips pushing me closer to the edge.

His face was a masterpiece of raw desire—jaw clenched, lips parted, eyes glazed over but locked on mine like I was the only thing keeping him grounded. Sweat glistened on his forehead; the muscles in his shoulders, abdomen and arms flexed wildly as he pounded into my body.

One particularly deep stroke made stars explode behind my eyelids and suddenly I wasn’t just close… I was coming again. A scream tore from my throat as pleasure detonated through every nerve ending. My nails dug into his forearms as my pussy clamped down hard on his cock.

His rhythm stuttered when he felt it and then came that growl again, the one that drove me wild with its primal possessive intensity, before he leaned forward and crushed our mouths together. The kiss was frantic—all tongue and teeth, his mouth hot and demanding as he swallowed every whimper and moan spilling from my lips. His hips didn’t slow at all, they grew relentless, each thrust deeper, harder like he couldn't get enough.

He only broke the kiss when his hips jerked forward with a particularly rough snap and his body tensed like a bowstring drawn too tight. A strangled sound escaped him, half-growl, half-moan, and I felt it… the way his cock throbbed and thickened inside me. He was close. So close.

No sooner had the thought crossed my mind than he let out a choked gasp against my lips then he was coming hard. Hot pulses that filled me as his cock twitched deep within me. Each spurt made him shudder violently and let out these quiet, broken noises that sounded almost pained.

I wrapped my arms around him, holding him close and running my fingers through his hair and along the tips of his ears as he came down from the high. The weight of his body pressing into mine was warm and heavy… a living blanket that smelled like pine and sweat and mine.

For several long moments we stayed like that: tangled together on the forest floor where he was most comfortable with moonlight filtering through the leaves above us until his breathing evened out and the tension eased until he was pliant in my arms.

His head moved to rest on my shoulder, one ear twitching occasionally against my cheek as the night sounds returned—the rustle of leaves in the breeze, the distant hoot of an owl or the call of a wolf somewhere in the distance.

He didn’t pull away or get up immediately like I half-expected him to, instead he nuzzled gently into my shoulder before pressing a kiss right over my heartbeat. Then another near it. And another along the curve of my collarbone. Each one tender… quiet affection that spoke volumes.

One hand lazily traced small circles on my hip while his tail unfurled slightly behind him and curled loosely around my calf like an unconscious claim: mine.

And I was… totally and undeniably his.

The Boyfriend (Part 1)

Note: I have decided to put a hold on working on my WIP's until something is done about returning Valko to his girlies. I will continue to post Netherlord & Tattoos & Tequila (Valko appears in the chapter I will post Wednesday) since those are already finished. Keep up the fight but remember to take care of yourselves!

You’d know these idiots since freshman orientation. Two years of shared greasy takeout, late night study sessions, and brutal hungover Sundays. That messy stretch of friendship was the only reason you felt comfortable enough to let your filter slip.

"It's not just the third floor," you said, tracing a finger around the rim of your cup. "It's everybody. The nursing majors. The track team. Pretty much every girl I've talked to. They all said the same thing, that you guys look like you belong on a billboard, but fuck like clumsy horny dogs."

"A horny dog? Seriously?" Rafayel looked genuinely wounded. "I am an artist and a very attentive one."

"You think lighting candles counts as attentiveness."

"It contributes."

From across the room, Sylus remained focused on his phone.

"Let them talk," his thumb paused over the screen "The loudest complaints usually come from people who never say what they really want."

You laughed "That's what you're going with?"

Sylus shrugged.

"Fine. Caleb?" he immediately looked suspicious.

"What?"

"That girl from the lacrosse team you fucked last weekend..."

Caleb groaned. "Oh, come on."

"How do you know she actually finished?"

"Because she told me she did."

"And?"

"And she was loooooud."

You stared at him and saw his confidence falter slightly.

"Girls do that so you'll speed up and get it over with"

Caleb opened his mouth, then closed it. He looked toward the window, his jaw shifting. "She... she wrapped her legs around my waist the entire time. That means it was good, right?"

"That means she was trying to get more friction because you weren't hitting the right spots," you said turning your head towards Rafayel "What about you?"

Rafayel straightened. "What about me?"

"When was the last time you actually looked down to see what was happening instead of just listening to the noises she was making?"

Rafayel's face turned a bright pink that extended to the tips of his ears. "I can tell by the rhythm. The atmosphere shifts."

"The atmosphere doesn't make a girl cum, Raf," you laughed, the whiskey bubbling up in your chest.

Across the room Xavier finally lifted his head from the rug, his hair stuck out in every direction.

"I just do it until they tell me to stop."

The room went quiet.

"Xavi, that is not the reassuring answer you think it is."

"Oh." he considered that.

"See?" you said, pointing around the room. "None of you actually know how to make a girl cum, you just assume you did a great job because you're hot, and then leave them to finish the job themselves after you fall asleep."

"That's correct"

The words cut through the conversation.

Zayne didn't look up from his anatomy textbook, he just adjusted his glasses and continued reading for a few more second before lifting his eyes.

Caleb barked out a laugh. "Oh, here we go."

Zayne ignored him.

"Most guys operate on assumptions rather than observation."

"Listen to the expert," Caleb said. "A man whose dating life exists entirely in textbooks."

Zayne's expression didn't change. "I understand the theory better than you"

"Theory?" Caleb repeated.

"Anatomy, Caleb."

"That's a lot of confidence for someone talking in hypotheticals." Sylus teased.

Zayne hesitated "It isn't as complicated as people make it out to be. I can show you."

"Do it." the words left your mouth before you could calculate the weight of them. "Show them."

Caleb sat up straighter. Rafayel looked interested. Xavier was really awake now.

The room suddenly felt smaller.

Sylus finally dropped his phone into his lap, his gaze locking onto your face, heavy and unblinking.

​Zayne didn't blink either. A dark red flush crept from beneath the collar of his black sweater, staining his throat. He looked at your cup, then at the space between his own knees, his jaw working as he swallowed.

Shit Shit Shit

​"We're... we've known each other a long time, this feels like we're crossing a line."

​"She asked," Sylus stood, the leather chair groaning beneath him. He crossed the room to slide the deadbolt into place before he leaned against the door and folded his arms. "And the doctor says he has the answers. Let's see a demonstration."

------

​The floorboards felt cold under your bare feet. Taking your clothes off wasn't nearly as smooth as moments like this looked in movies. It was awkward, rushed, and far too real. Your jeans caught on your ankles as you kicked them off, your bra strap twisting before you cleared it from your arms.

​"Sit here," Zayne whispered. He was now sitting on the edge of the mattress, knees spread wide apart.

You moved into the gap between his thighs. His chest felt warm against your shoulder blades.

Caleb and Rafayel pulled two chairs forward and Xavier stayed on the floor, dragging himself closer until his knees almost touched your ankle.

Before moving anywhere else, Zayne clamped his hands around your waist. His palms felt warm against your skin, holding you steady between his thighs.

"The skin requires warming first, If you touch her when she's cold, the muscles contract. It closes the blood vessels."

​His hands slid higher, the friction of his palms catching against your ribcage. He paused when he reached your breasts, using his fingers to lift and shape them without any sudden squeezing. He kept his touch frustratingly light, his thumbs sweeping in slow arcs across the base before flicking directly over the tight tips.

​A gasp caught in your throat, slipping out as a sharp breath. You dug your fingers into his knees, squeezing just to keep from writhing away from his hands.

"Are those goosebumps?" Xavier asked from below before reaching out, his hand hovering an inch from your left knee before he dropped it back to the floor.

"Yes, but it's an involuntary reaction," Zayne leaned his head forward, his hair brushing against your earlobe. "It doesn't mean she's cold."

Caleb cleared his throat, looking down at his hands, then back at you.

The sudden loss of Zayne's touch on your breasts made you shiver, his hands already traveling down your abdomen to grip your inner thighs. He parted your legs wide, exposing you to the heavy stares of the room. Under the direct glow of the desk lamp, the skin of your inner thighs visibly trembled.

His knuckles dragged over your outer lips and he stalled there, his jaw tightening as he drew his hand back and stared down at the slight sheen—not nearly enough.

"She’s nervous and that's completely normal. Any friction here would just cause irritation."

"So you're stuck," Rafayel said. He was leaning so far forward his chest rested against his knees, his eyes wide and tracking every movement of Zayne’s hand.

"No."

Zayne brought his hand up to your face and pressed his middle and index finger against your bottom lip, forcing your mouth open. The scent of paper vanished under the wet heat of your mouth. "Wet them."

You took his fingers in, tongue curling around them. Zayne watched your lips close around his knuckles, his chest expanding against your back, before he pulled them out with a wet pop, a thin thread of saliva breaking between his hand and your mouth.

​"You only need to do this once to get things moving," Zayne explained guiding his wet fingers back down between your thighs. "If a man needs to re wet his fingers or use lube over and over, it means he’s doing something wrong."

He pressed his slick fingers directly against your clit, rubbing an agonizingly perfect circle.

A sharp cry broke from your lips and he rested the heel of his hand firmly against your pelvic bone, using that grounding weight to steady his touch while his index and middle fingers began a slow, testing exploration of the skin surrounding the swollen bud. He moved in light crescent shapes, mapping the outer edges first without touching the center directly.

Your hips moved, trying to force his hand to hit your favorite spots, but Zayne held your waist with his other hand, keeping you still.

"Not yet," his voice was losing its stiffness "Look at how she reacts when I go near it. She's so sensitive right here. Such a good girl for letting you all see." The bastard knew about your praise kink. Of course he knew.

He changed the strokes to a firm downward motion along the sides before gathering the slick that was beginning to coat his knuckles and smoothing it back up. He watched your skin change color under his fingers, his thumb finally making direct contact with your clit, pressing down and tracing a tight, clockwise circle.

Your thighs twitched, knees trying to clamp shut around his arm.

"Don't hide," his thumb switched direction, drawing slow figure eight that dragged across the very top of the bud before dipping into the soft groove underneath. "Let them watch how wet you get when someone actually takes their time with you. You look so pretty when you're dripping like this."

Across from you, Caleb's hands were gripping his own knees so hard the fabric of his sweatpants strained. His eyes were wide and fixed entirely on the gloss of your skin where Zayne’s thumb was slicking the fluid back and forth, finding the exact weight that made your head fall back against his shoulder "She’s... she’s shaking..." his voice sounded rough and uneven.

Rafayel moved to the edge of his seat, his fingers tangling in the hem of his shirt, his face had gone from pink to tomato red "And the color is different..."

"Because the blood is pooling exactly where it’s supposed to," Zayne told them increasing the pressure just a fraction until you let out a broken whimper. "If you change the rhythm too fast, you lose the progress, so find the pattern she responds to, and you stay there."

From the floor, Xavier stared at the small twitches of your hole "She’s pulling in, like she wants to wrap around something."

Sylus stepped away from the door, his hands were out of his pockets now, his knuckles white as he watched Zayne’s fingers spread your folds apart, exposing the wet, pink interior completely "She's begging for it."

​Zayne looked up at the four men watching.

​"The manual rhythm is only the baseline, the tissue is highly receptive to temperature and texture. Anything you can execute with your hands, you can replicate, and enhance, with your mouth.

​He brought his index finger directly to the very tip of your swollen clit, pressing with small, localized prods.

"If you use the tip of your tongue like this," Zayne explained, his finger mimicking the flicking motion against the sensitive bud, making your hips jump, "you target the isolated nerve clusters. It's high intensity and it forces the blood to the surface faster."

He then slid his index and middle fingers tightly together, flattening them against each other to create a wider, smoother surface. He pressed the flat length of both fingers firmly against your entire center, dragging them in a long upward stroke from your entrance all the way up to your clit.

"But when she gets overwhelmed, you switch," Zayne said as he repeated the stroke "You have to use the whole flat of your tongue like this. It dampens the sharp sting of the sensitivity while keeping the heat building. You alternate based on how much she's twitching."

He used his other hand to gently pull your lips apart "Look at the opening," Zayne's breath felt soooo hot against your neck. "When the nerves are active, the tissue swells. It opens on its own."

Behind you, something thick pressed firmly into the cleft of your ass. Zayne was completely hard. His glasses had slid down his nose, but he didn't take his hands away to fix them.

​"Zaynie..." you moaned, your head falling back against his shoulder again. The sight of the guys watching you was winding the coil in your belly tighter and tighter.

​"Tell them," Zayne ordered, his fingers digging harder into the top of your clit. "Tell them what it feels like."

​"It's... it's so good," you sobbed out "I... Zayne, I need...fuck...."

Sylus moved closer.

​"The internal contractions," Zayne told them, his words breaking as his thumb worked in a fast circle. "They will milk whatever is inside. Just one finger in. Now. Feel it."

​"Now?" Rafayel stammered, his hand shaking as he reached out.

"Now!" you ripped the word straight from your chest,

​They moved together, a crowded rush of limbs. Four fingers,all pushed into your wet pussy at once.

Your muscles clamped down in spasms. Caleb let out a low curse, his head dropping against your thigh as you squeezed his finger. "Fucking hell... tight little pussy."

"Keep your fingers still," Zayne's thumb was still holding pressure against your twitching clit while he kept your hips steady against his own shaking thighs. "Feel the rhythm. That's her release."

Rafayel didn't speak, his eyes were fixed on his finger buried inside you.

The silence returned slowly, punctuated only by the sound of you trying to catch your breath. One by one, the fingers withdrew, leaving your cunt open and drooling. You collapsed back into Zayne, your muscles humming with the aftershocks.

Four men stood around the bed, looking down at their wet hands. Zayne was breathing hard against your neck, one hand shaking visibly as he pushed his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose.

He cleared his throat, his voice cracking slightly "Are there... any other questions?"

Xavier raised his hand slowly to his mouth, his tongue darting out to taste the wetness on his knuckle, his eyes completely dark as he stared at your open thighs.

"Yeah," he said "Can you teach us how to make her squirt?"

Part 3

I don’t know how many hours had passed but when I woke, I was alone in the bed.

The empty space beside me sent a jolt of panic through my chest. My fingers clutched at the rumpled sheets desperately… only slightly relieved when I found the space still warm from his body but empty. Then I saw it… a silver pendant with a glowing light green stone resting on the pillow where he’d been lying and a note tucked beneath it with precise, sharp handwriting.

Went to settle something.

That was all—no explanation, no reassurance that he’d return soon or that this wasn’t some cruel joke. Just those four words in sharp handwriting like a brand left on my skin.

I grabbed for the pendant, clutching it against my chest as fear curled its way up my spine because no matter what he said, I couldn’t get over the hurt from being ignored then suddenly told I belonged to him only to be ignored again.

My body still bore his marks… bruises on my hips, teeth imprints along my collarbone, an ache in my muscles and between my thighs… all proof that every ragged moan and plea had been real. But now? Now there was silence.

A sharp knock at the bedroom door made me flinch… the sound too loud in the silent room. "Miss?" A woman's voice called through wood.

Swallowing down my rising panic, I croaked out, "Y-Yes?"

The door opened cautiously, revealing the maid from last night.

Her face softened with sympathy the moment she saw me—disheveled, bare except for the blanket pulled up to cover my naked body, clutching the pendant like a lifeline.

"Good morning," she said gently before stepping fully inside and closing the door behind her with her foot. She was carrying a silver tray laden with food—steaming tea, toast cut into perfect triangles on butter-soaked bread, eggs cooked just right and fresh fruit arranged neatly beside a small stack of bacon.

Without asking permission or waiting for an invitation to come closer, she walked over and set the tray down on the bedside table. "The Lord said you might be hungry when you woke up."

Her eyes flickered briefly over my loose hair and the pile of lace, crumpled flowers and ribbons on the floor but didn’t comment. She reached into her apron pocket then pulled out another neatly folded note between two fingers, offering it toward me with the simple explanation of, "He told me to tell you to read this."

My stomach twisted with a mix of hunger and dread. I took the note, my fingers brushing against hers as I unfolded it slowly. My eyes scanned Caleb’s sharp handwriting.

"Eat everything on that tray before you leave this room. Wear what's in the closet. Don’t speak to anyone besides the maid attending to you. I’ll see you at noon by the lotus pond. Do not even think about disobeying me."

Once again, no "good morning." No explanation for leaving me alone. Just orders… the cold and precise commands from a man who clearly expected absolute obedience. No warmth, no affection… just pure authority.

The maid watched me carefully as I read it, her expression unreadable but not unkind. When I looked up at her again after swallowing hard… she smiled and folded her hands over her stomach. "Do you know where your clothing is?" she asked softly—not pushing for answers or gossip like others might have—but offering quiet service instead.

I shook my head and nibbled on my bottom lip as she turned toward one side door and opened it silently to show its contents… several dresses hanging neatly side by side alongside shoes lined up beneath them on racks. All expensive-looking fabrics in deep colors ranging from purple to green to turquoise to gold… all elegant cuts designed specifically for… me.

She stepped aside, holding the door open as I slid out of bed still wrapped in the blanket, bare feet touching cold hardwood. I padded over to inspect the dresses, my stomach twisting with a mix of nervousness and curiosity.

Every single one was exquisite: tailored silk gowns with delicate lace details at the collars or sleeves; flowing chiffon dresses that looked light enough that I could float in them; simple, sheer ones in a variety of colors meant for wandering the halls of this massive home and not to be worn in public.

Some had silver and gold embroidery. Some were casual… but none were simple. Every piece screamed formality and expectation. Like Caleb had chosen them specifically so people would look at me and know exactly to whom I belonged.

My fingers brushed over a sleeveless emerald-green dress before moving to another—a soft gold one layered with sheer fabric—then to another, simpler one made of ivory fabric with lotus flowers embroidered along the bottom in pink, purple and green.

The maid remained quiet, observing me as I examined each dress, not offering opinions or try to influence my choice, just standing there with her hands folded neatly in front of her, waiting patiently for me to make a decision.

After another minute of silent scrutiny, I reached for the ivory dress. It wasn't the flashiest or most elaborate option… but it felt right somehow. The color would bring out the blue in my eyes and I hoped Caleb would approve.

Carefully taking it from its hanger, I carried it and the pair of shoes the maid handed me back towards the bed and laid them at the foot before I sat down by the tray and hesitantly reached for a piece of crispy bacon.

The maid took this as her cue and stepped forward smoothly, "I'll prepare your bath while you eat, Mistress." She moved with practiced efficiency, turning toward the bathroom door as she spoke and I didn't correct her for calling me "Mistress"… not this time.

Right now, it felt safer to just… go along with things until I figured out exactly what my role was going to be. Was I supposed to go to the library to work? Was I supposed to stay here with Caleb and never see the outside of this mansion ever again? Would I live out my days bored out of my mind, at the beck and call of a man who ran hot and cold?

I didn’t know and that’s what was bothering me most.

I ate quietly, surprised that the food was surprisingly delicious compared to what I had eaten before. The bacon was crispy, the eggs perfectly seasoned, and the tea had a hint of honey that soothed my still-tense nerves. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was or how bland the food I had been eating was until now.

The maid returned from preparing my bath. "Your water is ready whenever you're finished eating," she said gently before moving to tidy up slightly—the discarded lace and ribbons from last night swept into a small pile by the door for disposal later and a pair of boots placed back in another wardrobe similar to the one where my clothing hung.

I took another sip of tea then set it down on its saucer carefully before pushing back what remained uneaten to the other side of the nightstand. Standing slowly in just the thin blanket still wrapped around me, I walked towards the bathroom with the maid following me.

Steam curled out faintly as she opened the door fully revealing an enormous marble-lined bathing chamber and a huge claw foot tub filled with fragrant rose-scented water. Candles burned softly along shelves casting a warm golden light across everything while petals floated atop the water’s surface giving the whole room a calming feeling.

Without hesitation, I let go of the blanket so it fell into a soft pile on the marble tiles behind me as I approached the bathtub then slipped one bare foot into the warm water—testing its temperature first.

It was perfect.

The warmth of the scented water enveloped me as I stepped fully into the tub, sinking down until it lapped at my collarbones. A sigh escaped my lips—this was luxury beyond anything I’d experienced before. The mansion was grand, but this… this private sanctuary felt like something reserved only for me and Caleb.

I leaned back against smooth porcelain and closed my eyes for a moment—letting the steam rise around me while petals clung gently to my damp skin.

Then came soft footsteps, fabric rustling slightly as the maid moved closer with a towel in her arms and a washcloth draped over one shoulder. Without speaking, she set everything within reach beside the bathtub's edge before reaching for a shampoo bottle sitting nearby on small shelf.

"Would you like your hair washed?"

I blinked open my eyes then glanced at the tangled silver strands floating on the surface of the water, wondering if her washing my hair would upset Caleb as much as her braiding it had. There was only one way to find out.

Sighing, I glanced up at her. "Yes, but don’t braid it… he… he got upset about that."

"Of course," she said softly, squeezing a generous amount of shampoo onto her palm before lathering it between her hands. Then she carefully gathered my hair from the water's surface and began massaging it into my scalp then down the waist-length strands with slow, rhythmic motions.

It felt amazing—the warm water combined with skilled fingertips easing tension I hadn’t realized was coiled in my shoulders since. A quiet hum of contentment escaped me without me realizing it but I was too content to be embarrassed.

Minutes later, she rinsed it thoroughly using a small pitcher filled with fresh water from an ornate faucet on the wall beside us. When all traces of shampoo were gone, she squeezed conditioner onto her palm this time—something light and silky that smelled like vanilla and Caleb.

The scent—Caleb’s scent—hit me instantly, making my chest tighten. It wasn't just a coincidence… this was his bathroom so I shouldn’t have been surprised that I was using things that were his, but my breath still caught for half a second before I forced myself to relax again.

She worked the conditioner through my hair with the same slow, methodical strokes as before, detangling each strand carefully as she went. The vanilla fragrance clung to me now—subtle but unmistakable—and something about that made warmth bloom in my stomach as I wondered what Caleb would think about me smelling like him when I saw him.

When the maid finished conditioning and began rinsing it out with more warm water from the pitcher, I kept my eyes closed… focusing on nothing but how good this felt—the luxury of being pampered after such an emotionally turbulent night.

After draining all excess water from the strands, she grabbed another bottle—hair oil infused faintly with sandalwood. Without hesitation…she drizzled a few drops onto her palm then smoothed it into the ends where my hair was the driest before working her way up.

The oil made the strands shimmer slightly under the candlelight, turning them almost luminous. The sandalwood scent mixed with Caleb’s vanilla shampoo and conditioner—creating a soft, masculine yet soothing fragrance that clung to me like a second skin.

I couldn’t help but wonder if this was intentional… if Caleb had instructed her to use these specific things on me so I would smell like him. The thought made my heart pound—both from nervousness and something else, something warm curling in the pit of my stomach.

Did he want me to smell like him? To carry his scent on my skin? It felt… possessive. Claiming and a traitorous part of me liked it—the idea that he wanted everyone to know I belonged to him by just breathing near me and it turned the heat coiling in my belly a full-blown inferno.

The maid finished oiling the ends of my hair with delicate precision before gently squeezing out excess water with a towel. She didn’t braid it or style it beyond leaving it loose and slightly damp—long silver waves cascading down my back like liquid moonlight.

Once she was done, she stepped back quietly and reached for one of the fluffy towels draped over a heated rack nearby and held it out for me. "Would you like help getting dressed?" she asked softly as I stood up and stepped out of the tub.

I nodded because despite how calm I appeared… I was jittery about seeing Caleb again.

She left me to dry myself off and went to a built-in chest of drawers and grabbed fresh undergarments… lace-trimmed and made from soft fabric followed by an elegant camisole top. She carefully laid the garments on the bed beside the ivory lotus-embroidered dress and waited patiently as I finished drying off then I slipped into each piece of clothing she’d provided.

The material was cool against my freshly washed skin, draping beautifully over my curves while the embroidery along the hemline shimmered faintly under the candlelight. Shoes came next, a pair of dainty satin slippers adorned similarly with flower details as the dress with delicate ribbon straps that tied at my ankles with small bells sewed into the ribbons.

I glanced at myself in the full-length mirror attached to the wardrobe door and my reflection took my breath away. The ivory fabric made my pale skin glow while my hair, still slightly damp, fell down my back—the oil making it shine softly under candlelight.

The camisole beneath the dress provided enough coverage for the sheer fabric of the dress to not be inappropriate while allowing the dress to flow gracefully around me with every small movement I made.

For once… I looked and felt beautiful and not like some neglected servant or forgotten annoyance. A lump formed in my throat unexpectedly at that realization because despite everything scary about his sudden claim on me… I wanted to belong here, to belong to him—to dress up for him and be seen as something precious rather than ignored entirely.

"Would you like jewelry?" The maid asked gently from where she stood holding a velvet-lined box containing several delicate pieces—all simple yet elegant enough to match every outfit perfectly without being too much.

My gaze went to the pendent with the glowing light green stone sitting on the nightstand and I shook my head before approaching and pulling it over my head. He wanted me to wear it… why else would he have left it on the pillow beside me with a note if he didn’t?

She nodded, respecting my decision without question and closed the jewelry box quietly and set it aside before turning her attention to a small silver brush on a vanity nearby. When she lifted it and gestured for me to sit on the padded stool, I shook my head and took a step back, remembering how upset he had been when I had allowed someone else to touch my hair.

The maid paused as she caught my hesitation. She didn’t push—just lowered the brush and folded her hands in front of her apron again, understanding passing through her eyes.

I didn't want anyone else touching my hair after Caleb's reaction last night. Not even for something as small as brushing it. I sat on the stool then picked the brush up and began carefully working out the tangles with careful fingers and the soft bristles of the silver brush.

My damp silver strands slipped through my fingertips easily and I marveled at how silky smooth my hair was now, like clouds rather than the frizzy mess it had been before. Once it was untangled enough not pull painfully… I twisted it loosely over one shoulder until Caleb either told me what to do with it or he braided it himself like I assumed he wanted to.

My eyes dropped to the pendant between my breasts where the green gem pulsed faintly with soft light every few seconds like a tiny heartbeat.

Was it a symbol... a claim... a promise?

There was only one way to find out.

When I scooted back from the vanity and stood, the maid gave me a tiny nod and moved to straighten the room… changing the sheets and blankets on the bed, fluffing the pillows then moving the tray with my breakfast to a table near the door before disappearing into the bathroom to tidy up in there.

A clock in the hallway ticked softly—the sound muffled but audible. It wasn’t quite noon yet… which meant Caleb would be expecting me soon by that lotus pond.

My stomach twisted with nerves again. What would he say when he saw me? Would his expression soften or stay cold like it had been before? Had anything changed after last night?

I took a deep breath before walking toward door cautiously… unsure if I should leave now or wait until exactly twelve o'clock.

The maid emerged from the bathroom just as I hesitated by the door, wiping her hands on her apron. She studied my nervous posture—the way my fingers fidgeted with the pendant and how I kept glancing uncertainly at the door—then smiled reassuringly.

"Go ahead," she said softly. "He prefers punctuality... but he won't be upset if you're early."

I nodded gratefully at her then stepped out into hallway. It stretched long and quiet, the polished marble floors gleaming under soft chandelier light. The mansion was eerily silent—no servants rushing about, no distant conversations… just empty spaces.

I walked slowly down the hall toward a grand staircase, my feet making no sound on the wood as I descended step by step.

At the bottom, a man in formal attire using a feather duster to clean the edges of the paintings on the walls glanced up at me but quickly looked away when our eyes met… as if trained not to stare too long or acknowledge my presence.

Turning left at the base of stairs led me through an elegant sitting area with antique furniture before reaching the glass doors that opened onto the garden courtyard where the pond was. Moonlight reflected off the water's surface creating shimmering ripples everywhere; petals floated gently atop the water while koi fish darted around, occasionally disturbing the water’s surface.

And there… sitting on a stone slab near the edge of pond with his feet in the water… was Caleb. Dressed in nothing more than a thin ivory wrap around his waist, a pendant that matched mine exactly resting against his chest while his tousled, waist-length hair blew around his shoulders in the gentle breeze.

At first glance… he looked relaxed… peaceful, but when I took a quiet step forward on the gravel path leading toward him… something shifted. His head lifted slowly—not like someone startled or surprised but more like a predator sensing its prey approaching from downwind.

Purple eyes locked onto me instantly. No smile. No softness in his gaze that I had been hoping for… just silent appraisal as those gorgeous eyes swept over every detail… the sheer material of my dress clinging to my curves, silver hair cascading down my back, the pendant resting between my breasts, the shoes with the bells that tinkled every time I moved.

The moment his gaze met mine, the air between us thickened—charged with something unspoken yet heavy. The pond was eerily quiet suddenly… even the koi had stopped swimming as if sensing tension in the atmosphere.

He didn’t move at first. Just watched me approach with that same intense stare… the one that made my skin prickle like static electricity before a storm. Then, slowly… deliberately… he lifted a hand and beckoned me closer with two fingers.

My breath hitched but I obeyed, walking toward him while those little bells jingled softly with each step I took. The sound almost seemed too loud in the charged silence, but it broke through… a gentle melody that was comforting.

When I reached where he sat on stone bench by water's edge... he didn't say anything. Instead... he reached out and grabbed my fingers, gently pulling me towards him then he quietly removed my shoes and placed them aside carefully before his hands ran up my calves to my knees then up my thighs, dragging the soft material of my dress up until it was bunched around my waist.

Hooking his fingers in the waistband of my undergarments he tugged them down my body, waited patiently for me to step out of them then tugged me until I was standing between his spread thighs, facing the lotus pond.

The sudden exposure to the cool air against my naked pussy made me shiver, but it was nothing compared to the heat blooming in my chest as Caleb maneuvered me effortlessly, strong hands guiding me with quiet authority.

He didn’t rush. Didn’t speak. Just pressed a slow kiss to the back of my knee, lips warm against the sensitive flesh, before dragging his mouth upward in featherlight touches along the back of my thigh… agonizingly slow… teasing…

My breath came faster, fingers curling into fists at my sides as anticipation coiled tight like spring inside stomach. Would he kiss higher? Stop there? Do something else entirely?

Then... when lips reached halfway up my thigh... he suddenly turned and nipped lightly at my inner thigh, not hard enough to hurt but firm enough to make my pulse jump violently. A tiny gasp escaped me before I could stop it and I felt his smirk against my flesh.

He liked that sound. A lot.

"Sit," he mumbled, hands gripping my hips. The command was low but undeniable.

I swallowed hard and slowly lowered myself, the cool stone of the slab biting slightly against the backs of my thighs. My back pressed against his chest as I settled between his legs, every point of contact electrifying.

The second I was settled; his arms came around me—one strong forearm banding across my stomach to pull me flush against him while the other lifted to brush loose strands of my silver hair aside. His lips found the curve of my neck instantly, warm and firm as they pressed just below my ear. No teasing this time. No slow build-up. Just possession in its purest form.

His mouth traveled down with purpose—nipping lightly at the sensitive spot where shoulder met throat before sucking gently on the skin there, leaving behind a faint mark that would bloom into something darker. The hand resting on my stomach slid upward… calloused fingertips tracing every dip and curve until they wrapped around my throat.

Not squeezing—just holding. A claiming touch that sent fire licking down my spine.

His thumb brushed over the pounding pulse in my neck, feeling how fast it raced for him. The kiss on my throat turned wetter, hungrier—the kind of kiss that made me whimper and arch back into his chest instinctively with a breathless plea for more.

He let out a low chuckle then released his hold and mumbled, "Such a needy girl. But… you will have to wait… I have something else in mind right now."

I whined softly at the loss of his touch, frustration curling in my belly as he pulled away.

The absence was sudden—cold compared to the heat of his body and lips moments ago. Before I could even process it, he shifted behind me, hands sliding down from my shoulders to my hair then he was unwinding the long strands until they spilled over my back.

He didn’t say anything after that… just worked slowly, gathering strands between his fingers before braiding them with surprising skill, every so often picking up ribbon, lace, flowers and bells out of a small pile beside him that I hadn’t noticed until now.

He wove in delicate white silk ribbons and lace at intervals then tiny silver bells that chimed softly with every slight movement of my head. Then there were the tiny lotus flowers—fragile and perfect—tucked carefully into the braid as he worked upward.

Each addition was intentional: the ribbons and lace for elegance, the bells because he liked hearing them whenever I moved… and those blooming flowers? A reflection of our location as if it meant something?

Finally… after what felt like an eternity but also not long enough…he tied the braid off securely with a thin cord and ran his hand down the silky length before wrapping it around his hand and pulling my head back so it was resting against his shoulder.

The sudden tug made me gasp—not in pain, but surprise. My head tilted back automatically, exposing the delicate line of my throat as he held me there with that firm grip.

For a moment, he just looked at me—studying me intently then his lips crashed onto mine.

No warning. No softness. Just pure claiming hunger as he kissed me hard—mouth slanting over mine like a man starved. The kiss was demanding; all teeth and tongue and possessive swipes that stole the breath from my lungs before pulling back enough for me to breath only to dive right back in deeper each time.

His grip on my braid tightened just enough to tilt my face exactly where he wanted it while his other hand slid down to grip the curve of my breast, fingers pressing possessively into soft fabric and the flesh beneath.

I could feel his cock hardening against my lower back, pressing insistently against me through the thin material separating us.

When he finally broke away for air, we were both panting slightly and his pupils were blown wide, purple irises nearly swallowed by black as they raked over my face… swollen lips, throat marked by love bites, hair artfully braided and decorated the way he wanted it.

For once there was no coldness in his gaze, just raw intensity burning behind those eyes as they dropped lower… down past the pendant resting between my breasts to where my dress had ridden dangerously high on my thighs, exposing my bare pussy to anyone who might walk by.

A low growl rumbled in his chest as his gaze lingered on the exposed skin of my thighs then without warning, he shifted me… his strong hands easily gripping my waist to turn me around so I was facing him. The sudden movement made the bells in my braid jingle softly, a sound that seemed to amuse him for some reason then he kissed me again.

His hands slid from my waist to grip my thighs possessively while his tongue invaded my mouth with no patience or gentleness. One hand traveled lower… over my hips… then under fabric until his calloused fingertips brushed against the soaked folds of my pussy.

A shiver ran through me at his touch… light and teasing but purposeful as his fingertip traced a slow, deliberate circle around my clit.

A smirk curled at the corner of his lips as he felt how wet I was… how responsive my body reacted to even the smallest touch from him. He broke the kiss only to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down my jawline and along my throat—nipping here and there with sharp little bites that weren’t painful but sent jolts of pleasure through me.

Every time his teeth grazed my skin I gasped or whimpered… sounds that fueled him.

His fingers grew less teasing and more demanding as they slipped between my folds again, dipping lower to gather the wetness there before pressing two fingertips firmly against my clit.

A sharp gasp tore from me as he rubbed slow circles over the sensitive bundle of nerves, applying just enough pressure to make heat coil tight in my stomach but not enough for relief.

He watched my face intently—the way I bit down on lower lip trying not moan too loud since we were outside where anyone could hear us… how my eyes fluttered shut when the sensations became overwhelming… how my body arched toward him chasing more friction.

He liked seeing me like this… pliant and desperate under his hands.

Completely at his mercy.

Without warning, he pushed two fingers inside me, stretching me with one smooth thrust while his palm pressed hard against my clit simultaneously. A choked cry escaped me before I could stop it, echoing across the pond’s surface, making several koi dart away.

The stretch burned pleasantly, his fingertips curving perfectly to hit that sweet spot deep inside me. My hands flew up to grip his shoulders, nails digging into the muscles of his shoulders as my hips jerked against his fingers.

He didn’t slow down or ease up. Instead, he started moving faster, fingers pumping in and out with rough precision. Each thrust was deeper than the last, curling just right to make stars burst behind my eyelids.

His mouth crashed back onto mine swallowing every moan I couldn’t contain but they still spilled out between our joined lips… breathless little sounds of "ahh" and "oh god" as pleasure built faster and faster until I felt like I was going to explode.

I didn't even recognize the sounds escaping me… high-pitched whines turning into choked cries as I came hard. My body clenched tight around his fingers, my vision blurred momentarily as he kept moving those fingers inside me, dragging out every second of pleasure until I was squirming weakly from oversensitivity.

He finally slowed, fingers gently stroking along my swollen flesh before withdrawing.

A soft gasp left my lips when they slipped out, my pussy sensitive now after such an earth-shattering orgasm. Before I could even think or breath or say a word, he quickly notched the head of his cock against my opening and pushed inside.

The stretch was sudden—sharp and intense as his thick length filled me.

My breath caught, nails digging deeper into his shoulders as I tried to adjust but he didn’t stop or give me time. Instead, he bottomed out with a low groan that vibrated through my chest where we touched then he held there for a second… buried deep… forehead pressed against mine while our ragged breathing mingled between us.

Then his hands slid down to my hips, and he lifted me almost completely off his cock before dropping me back down so the full length was once again inside me.

After that he set a rough pace… no warm-up, no gentle build up. Just pure claiming. Every snap of his hips sent waves rippling across the water's surface making the petals shake on the lotus flowers and water slosh all over our legs.

He didn’t speak, didn't murmur sweet nothings or praise me like you would think. No, his face was a mask of pure focus—jaw clenched tight, sweat already beading on his brow as he fucked into me with single-minded intensity.

Every thrust rocked my body forward slightly before he hauled me back by the hips to meet him again and again—the slap of skin on skin echoing off the garden walls.

My breasts bounced with each movement, the fabric of the camisole rubbing against the hardened nubs of my nipples with each thrust, even that managing to drive my already oversensitive body into overdrive.

I clung to him desperately, one hand fisted in his dark hair while the other braced against his broad chest for balance.

He growled suddenly then bit down hard on my shoulder, not enough to break skin but hard enough to leave behind a mark, and something about that animalistic gesture sent another jolt straight through my pussy, making the heat coil tighter and tighter until my body shattered and I came all over his cock.

The second my orgasm hit, his control snapped.

A guttural sound tore from his throat as he felt me clench… tight, pulsing waves that dragged a ragged groan from deep in his chest. His hips stuttered for half a second before he was moving faster, harder with brutal urgency—chasing his own release with single-minded focus.

Each thrust became sharper, deeper, more desperate—the wet slap of skin echoing off the pond’s surface. The bells in my braid jingled wildly with every snap of his hips; tiny silver chimes announcing just how thoroughly he was claiming me beneath the open sky where anyone could walk by and see us if they chose to.

But neither of us cared. Not when pleasure burned this hot through our veins.

His breath came in harsh pants against my neck as I clung to him—the only anchor keeping me grounded as my body chased another orgasm because even though I’d just come…the friction never stopped…never slowed… his thick length dragging along my inner walls, hitting every spot meant to push me over the edge again.

And then suddenly… I felt it.

He tensed before another low growl rumbled out of him and he came hard. His hips jerked erratically, burying himself as deep inside me as possible while hot pulses filled me in thick waves.

A broken groan escaped his lips—raw and unfiltered—then his body stilled. For a long moment, he just held me… arms wrapped tight around my back, forehead resting against mine, breathing ragged between us.

The world around us seemed to pause—the pond, the garden, even the wind held its breath.

He stayed buried inside me, his heartbeat thudding hard against my chest then he exhaled slowly through his nose… a quiet sigh that carried contentment? Relief? Maybe both.

For once, there was no coldness in him. No distance.

He just held me, fingers tracing idle patterns along my spine, soft and absentminded rather than possessive or demanding then he lifted his head and studied me… my swollen lips, flushed cheeks, damp bangs sticking to my forehead.

A small smirk tugged at corner of his mouth but it wasn't mocking… it almost looked fond?

Without warning...he leaned forward again and pressed gentle kiss right to the center of my forehead, lingering there few seconds longer than necessary before pulling back and saying something that made my heart stutter in my chest.

"Time for that talk."

The words—spoken so casually, yet with such weight—sent a jolt through me.

My heart, which had just begun to slow from the intimacy of his kiss on my forehead, kicked back up into a frantic rhythm.

I nodded silently, not trusting my voice.

The afterglow of what we’d just shared—the raw passion and unexpected tenderness—still hummed under my skin. But now came the part I’d been dreading since he first pulled me into his bedroom last night.

For several seconds, he was quiet… staring at something over my shoulder then he exhaled slowly through his nose and turned those piercing purple eyes toward mine and I silently waited to see what was going to happen next.

Caleb is fourteen years old and there are twenty-seven Imperial Heirs left. 

It’s fewer than half the number that they started with, a galaxy’s worth of children shivering in the throne room a mere five years prior, their anxious hearts pumping that precious royal blood through their fragile arteries. 

He’d stood there in the eerie grandeur of that hall, cold despite the balmy artifice of the Skycurtain, and thought with the ache of phantom limbs that this new home was not so different from his old one, after all. That the teachings of his old masters would serve him well under the new: that is, that every being in that hall was an asset or a threat who must be wielded accordingly; that there is nothing more poisonous to the preservation of self than a genuine friend… 

Then his eyes landed on her, and he was reminded anew of what it means to be utterly helpless before one’s fate. 

Still, despite the odds, Caleb has managed to keep them both alive – a fact he reminds himself of whenever he wakes cold and sticky with sweat, the thick scent of fear lingering in the air. He has offered double of himself to time’s slow erosion, chipping away at morality, at empathy, and, not the least, at his surplus of siblings. 

The first murder was the hardest by simple nature of it being the first: a young boy from a mercantile sector who had inherited only a little of his family’s financial cunning and none of their diplomacy. The next few were significantly easier: children with fragile dispositions he could coax to illness; children with violent enough temperaments that their servants could be turned against them; children with access to fewer resources with which to defend themselves. 

His fellow Heirs had run their own gambits, their successes weeding out the competition and failures, well, also weeding out the competition. Neither the court nor Lysander tolerated a half-witted schemer, and those who were discovered were quietly shipped off to planets with those who either needed the political marriage or enjoyed a… naive sort of spouse. 

The Heirs that still remain are of a different calibre. They require more than juvenile desperation and an innate talent for subterfuge. 

Which is to say that, when Lysander gathered them all into the throne room to announce the Empire would be hosting a showcase from Valkyrie’s illustrious military academy, the assembly of whom included the rising prodigy that had even the court leaning close with interest, the best of them correctly identified the exchange for what it was: a chance to gain allies. 

The banquet hall has been refurbished into a particular kind of splendour for the occasion. The death of the former Imperial dynasty and Sioh’s brief regency coincided with the obsoletion of gold, and the fresh blood of the new emperors brought its own aesthetic. Warm, passionate reds and yellows were exchanged for sleeker indigos, gilt accents shaved down in favour of rhodium’s noble shimmer. A cooler, costly palette. 

Caleb thinks it fitting, a preferable alternative to the lie that any comfort might be found here. 

Lysander has ordered the teenager to stand at his right hand, today. Usually, Caleb would consider this a useful honour – though the term ‘honour’ does little to smooth over his feelings of revulsion – a means to leverage the court’s opinion of him against the ire of his fellow Heirs, but not today. Today, there is a crowd of people from across the galaxy, eager to watch the upcoming tournament, and his position at Lysander’s side means that she – his beloved little sister, destination of his dreams and empress of his heart – has been left alone without him. And everybody who has survived this long in the palace knows that the only thing more dangerous than being alone is being alone in a crowd. After all, the palace is home to so many strange accidents… 

The unpleasant buzz of anxiety crawls along his spine like the Fevrel wasps the menagerist showed him a few days ago. In the corner of his eye, he catches a glimpse of her hair. Her handmaidens have pulled it into formal, complicated braids befitting the occasion, combing it with scented oil and decorating it with jewels that catch light and attention with every elegant tilt.   

The actual outcome of today does not phase him – he beats even the most cutthroat of his siblings in strategy eight times out of ten and often one of those losses is of itself a concession calculated to gain something more valuable in exchange – his real concern is that she makes it through the day unscathed. 

Everything else, Caleb thinks as the first matches are paired and he is guided by attendants to a waiting table, is secondary. The court’s esteem, Lysander’s expectations, his siblings’ veiled stares, his own personal wellbeing… 

Fortunately, he makes a practice of executing multiple objectives at once.

“I see your little shadow is happily fraternising with the opposition,” Mareva says with a smile the colour of old blood. She is a year his senior, and one of the few siblings Caleb can admit to being even slightly close to. 

At times, he regrets that they are required to kill each other. 

Caleb eyes her most recent manoeuvre: a sudden warp of an innocuous transport vehicle away from her supply lines. “Leave her alone,” he murmurs. He has recently been forced to adopt the habit, so as to smooth over any awkwardness caused by his fracturing, pubescent voice. “I just want her to have a happy childhood.” 

It’s suspicious. Too suspicious. 

But, also, too obvious. 

He considers the young woman before him. Her penchant for bluffs and double-bluffs. 

Her smile sharpens: a blade glutted, but only for so long. “Too good to sit in hell with the rest of us?” Her eyes are the crystalline yellow of topaz, framed by coils of ebony hair that fall in tight ringlets around her shoulders. When she leans closer, he catches the scent of the desert after rain: sun-baked petrichor and earthen spices, cardamon and sage, cinnamon and thyme. “Don’t think I don’t know blind adoration when I see it, little brother. You think you’re raising a bitapup but, really, she’s a Thytche scorpion.” 

The warning needs no consideration before it is dismissed. Instead, Caleb considers the play, considers his options. The board is set too simply for a layered attack – even if it turns out to be a trap, he will have at least one defensive move. 

“I know exactly what she is,” he replies, resupplying a warship near a key strategic point. 

“Is that so?” Mareva asks, amused. She uses her next turn to warp a battleship next to the supply unit, placing one of Caleb’s holding planets under threat. 

He doesn’t bother to answer her question. His own knowledge is sufficient: the girl in question, currently giggling beside one of the Academy’s finest, is nothing less than his spiritual twin, his origin and original sin, the very starmap of his conscience. 

The planet is abandoned without thought as Caleb presses the offensive. 

Three moves more and Mareva is forced to yield, offering her hand, graceful in surrender. 

When Caleb goes to shake it, however, she abruptly twists her grip, leaning over to press a kiss to the inside of his wrist. 

A custom of her homeland, his memory supplies. An invocation of kinship and a blessing of protection. 

A daring move to make in front of a crowd filled with court members who demand Heirs sacrifice their individuality to prove their ‘unquestionable allegiance to the empire’. 

“Just remember,” she whispers conspiratorially. In the audience, he hears the faint giggling that he’s been keeping track of throughout the game cease, feels a flash of foreign rage and jealousy, a white-hot brand searing into his soul. “It is a scorpion’s nature to sting.”  

Caleb feels a wry smile tug at his mouth. He doesn’t, for a moment, believe that Mareva’s declaration of support is anything but a deliberate calculation – to believe otherwise would be disrespectful to the threat sitting across from him. 

A temporary alliance, then, he thinks, eyes drifting over the faces of their spectators. Amongst them, he sees a man with a full, kempt beard that does little to hide his clenched jaw. 

Caleb lets his gaze drift casually back to Mareva. He subtly inclines his head in question. 

Her yellow eyes glitter. 

“Then, she’ll fit in nicely,” he replies dryly. 

The elder sibling laughs, flashing her perfect white teeth at him.

“That, she will,” Mareva agrees. Right now, she reminds him of a desert cat, the anticipation of the hunt coiling tight. “Well played today, little brother.”

“And you,” he replies graciously. Then, adds more meaningfully: “Would you like to have tea with me later? It’s been a while.” Being owed her favour is only one aspect of it – Caleb makes a habit of knowing all the sordid details of his siblings’ games.

Elsewhere, he feels the jealousy sharpen, a knife to the throat in the gleeful hands of a talented torturer. 

It is as awful as it is exquisite. 

His smile widens, pleased. 

“Send the invitation to my secretary.” Mareva rises from her seat with perfect, effortless decorum. The betrayal of it is subtle, but those who know her well would recognise the accomplishment of her true objective. Caleb ponders the price he will exact for his help. “Good luck with the tournament.” 

The second game of the day lasts significantly longer than the first. Not because his opponent is more skilled but, rather, because he is not skilled enough to know when he is utterly defeated. 

Caleb understands this and lets the match play out, countering moves with a swift, deliberate cunning, putting his sibling’s incompetence on full display. Allowing for the spectators – the ones that matter, at least – to realise what is going on and reconsider their alliances in real time. 

By the end of the round, the win whose inevitability Caleb has held in his hands for over twenty moves is not nearly so sweet as the pale, furious face of his opponent’s preceptor, his sibling’s dawning realisation that he’s better suited to networking than he is to warfare. 

After the third match, the remaining contestants are allowed a brief recess, during which Caleb learns that the prodigy has, predictably, earned his own string of successes. If they both continue as projected, they will be each other’s match in the grand final. 

Between the bodies of sycophants pressing close and sips of lemon over crushed ice, Caleb catches glimpses of his opponent-to-be. 

At seventeen years old, Zayne Li has grown into most of his height. His hair is the colour of black velvet. The cut is neat and efficiently parted in a way that matches the rest of him: he has neglected to follow his fellow students’ attempts to embellish themselves for the occasion, but the Academy’s formal uniform is impeccably pressed and tailored to fit his developing shoulders, his compact waist. It speaks of a disinterest bordering on insulting, an impression inculcated by his perfect posture, etiquette that is respectful without fanfare, and a mask so smooth and frictionless the nobles’ teeth glance right off it. 

Caleb decides immediately that, while he respects the older boy, liking him is another matter. 

He also thinks that the prodigy ought to tithe a jewel or two to the Sanctide’s coffers, because Zayne’s only saving – and, perhaps, surviving – grace, is that his beauty begs absolution for his cold demeanour. 

There is nothing the imperial court finds more hateful than complete apathy towards its spectacle. However, there is nothing that coaxes the court’s forgiveness more than a beautiful talent and, even from afar, Caleb can recognise it: the sharp bones emerging from the soft youth of his face, the sturdy chin and defined jaw, the tapering of that full mouth into refined, daggered points. 

His is beauty undeniable but, more importantly, untouchable, and it is exactly the sort of thing bored nobles go mad for. 

Through the lens of their desire, his eyes become cut emeralds, precious and precise, and the fall of his hair becomes intrigue, curtains shrouding the treasures within. They throw themselves at him, clawing and cajoling in equal, fruitless measure, and Caleb watches in both pity and amusement at each new failure of high society to peek behind the veil. 

“Might you bestow upon me a moment of your time, Your Highness?” asks a wheedling voice then, restoring Caleb’s attention. 

The young prince smiles charmingly as he recognises Leveuro Caprize, a newly-invested Count from a planet recently discovered to have several large, remarkably pure deposits of at least three rare minerals. 

“Count Caprize,” Caleb greets him. “I’m delighted you’ve come. My condolences regarding the former Countess.” 

“Thank you, Your Highness,” replies the Count gratefully, bending to kiss Caleb’s signet ring. “You honour my mother with your sincerity.” He pauses then, glancing about before leaning in furtively. “Actually, I came today because I wished for your audience regarding a small matter.” 

Caleb’s smile stiffens slightly. “Is that so?” 

Caprize nods. “Indeed. It is a small matter, but of some urgency…” 

The prince breathes through his nose, then takes a look around the hall. Like a compass to a lodestone, he finds her almost instantly: his baby sister is now the centre of the Academy students, prodigy excluded, and positively glittering with the attention. Mareva reclines beside her. 

Sensing Caleb’s attention, the elder sibling gives him a smirk and a lazy wave. 

“Wait here,” Caleb tells the Count, before walking to the nearest guard. “You,” he signals to the man, who startles at the sudden address. “If the princess over there comes to harm before I dismiss you, I will make you watch as I personally execute your entire bloodline. Have I made myself clear?” 

The guard tenses immediately. “Yes, Your Highness!” 

“You’d best move closer, then,” Caleb dismisses. His shoulders are still tight as he returns to the Count. It’s nowhere near ideal, of course, but it’ll have to do. “Follow me,” he tells the nobleman. “And don’t forget to make it brief…” 

The final game of the day is announced with all its usual pomp – Lysander has always loved a good party. The voice of their adopted father, Emperor of the Cosmic Empire, fills the Banquet Hall as he announces the remaining contenders: prodigy versus Imperial Heir, the match the court has spent the entire day anticipating. “Caleb, our prince of Alore, defends against the Aggressor, Zayne Li of Valkyrie Academy. We have seen both of them acquit themselves with dignity befitting our glorious Empire, and…” 

As he talks, Caleb lets the fanfare wash over him. While he enjoys acknowledgement, he finds that ceremony strips sentimentality and makes anything with even a sliver of authenticity all the more rare in this glimmering, dispassionate place. Of course, authenticity is a knife to the throat, and therefore equally unappealing – what he truly wants is a quiet place where he can be alone with his baby sister. No games, no pretenses, no blood on his hands. 

Alas, she has set her unwaveringly avaricious sight on the throne and so here Caleb is, setting up his pieces on the board. 

“Classical rules apply. All moves will be judged according to the Empire Codex and current inter-galactic treaties. No time limit will be imposed.” Lysander informs them. “Now, if the contenders are ready, you may begin.” 

The game opens slowly, both boys attempting to get the measure of each other. Caleb pushes an early feint, which Zayne allows, turning it into his own trap within three moves. It’s an awful, artful retaliation, a variation on standard manoeuvres that the prince has never seen before. It’s both unsettling and exciting, adrenaline pumping through his arteries and turning his thoughts to crystal. 

When Caleb manages to escape the trap with his own clever compromise, he sees his opponent’s gaze sharpen, body subtly leaning closer, his posture shifting into something like actual interest for the first time in what has been a long day. 

Caleb feels it then: that fluttery feeling in his gut. That mutual recognition, the kinship one can only feel in well-matched competition. He’s aware that he’s the Empire’s darling, but so much of his work is done behind the scenes. Accidents on accidents, conspiracies buried under layers of feints and forgeries… It is rare that he gets to openly indulge in the thrill of an actual challenge. 

Of course, there are still stakes: now that father dearest has thrown his weight behind this match, Caleb must live up to expectation. He must be the proof of Imperial glory, unbeaten and undeniable. To fail will mean disappointment, and disappointment will mean pain. 

Nothing physical, of course – even Lysander must bow before the Empire Codex – but his father has countless ways of making something hurt without technically causing harm. 

A memory intrudes then. Caleb standing in the cold rain of a foreign, familiar planet, wondering to himself why he is clutching the bloodied, shivering creature in his arms when he never takes these kinds of risks. A voice, sultry and amused in a way that holds teeth: "This is a surprise. I was beginning to think that blood would be the only thing to bind us." Regret immediately seized Caleb’s throat, and he’d nearly abandoned the bitapup right there, but the voice was already continuing. "Well, I suppose there's enough blood. Still... are you sure you're not going soft, Your Princeliness?"

Caleb’s hackles raise, shoulders tightening in that way that happens only when he is being observed by a particular pair of lovely, mocking eyes. But when he glances subtly around the room, hunting for tourmaline, he finds green and gold instead, the cool way his opponent takes in his unwittingly clenched fist. 

Panic seizes the young prince. 

Behind them, he feels the pressure of his adopted father as he watches their match. 

Caleb does not look at Lysander, but the refusal of acknowledgement is damning in itself, because the Li boy’s gaze goes from his haphazardly composed face to the dais behind him, then back. It’s far too deliberate to be anything but keen understanding, and Caleb withers under an exposure he hasn’t felt in years. 

Still, his hand doesn’t shake when he manoeuvres a warship into position. 

Across from him, a dark eyebrow crooks ever so slightly. Barely a movement – only noticeable because of Caleb’s proximity – but it serves to deepen his alarm. 

A pale, graceful hand moves its own warship into place, and suddenly the natural formations of planets and asteroid belts that had looked like defenses now feel like iron bars. Caleb feels the metal teeth of a trap closing around him. 

He looks at the board, pondering seriously. 

There’s still maybe enough time to retreat, but not without revealing the move for the awful blunder it is. 

What else? he thinks as he gauges distances, re-catalogues manpower. Defense is not the only option to him – collaborator, as he is, with assassins and other suspicious ilk. An offensive, then? Are there any-

His eyes land on one of his opponent’s strongholds, and he has to bite back a smirk. As they say, ‘a house divided…’

He escapes Li’s trap through sheer audacity, forcing the prodigy to reroute his efforts towards defense while Caleb presses the attack. It’s an ugly solution, but effective. The warship that threatened him is turned into debris and disseminated within the asteroid belt. 

Unfortunately, this poses new problems: his move constitutes a formal declaration of war in a way that prior skirmishes had not, and a new set of rules governs their conduct moving forward. 

They trade blows back and forth, each rallying their forces accordingly. There is even a moment, a short, precious moment, where Caleb thinks that he has all but won. 

It is not that Caleb is arrogant – he is aware, for all his enormous talent, that things can always, always go wrong – but he is generally confident in his ability to do whatever is necessary, stoop as low as it takes in order to survive and crawl out the other side… 

Except then his opponent makes a move – a subtle repositioning of a piece – and it is like the handful of prophetic revelations Caleb has had the privilege of attending, the way the Sanctide’s clergy would unfurl the starmap and the secrets of the divine. 

Damn it, he thinks, illness forming in the pit of his stomach. 

And for all his ingenuity, all his moral flexibility, Caleb looks down at the pattern laid out before him and knows with a cold, brutal certainty, that he is going to lose and there is nothing that can save him from it. 

Should I resign? he wonders dully, feeling the eyes of his father on the back of his neck. He doesn’t look back – nothing that would break decorum. He’s too well-defended to force a draw… 

Still, ruling is not always about winning. Sometimes, a judicious monarch must also know when the cost of resources outweighs the victory. 

Nobody else has noticed the outcome is already set, but if he lets the game breathe for a few moves, they’ll catch on… 

He can do this, justify the loss with pardonable grace. 

Caleb closes his eyes and allows himself a single, tiny breath. Alright. Opens them. 

When he does, he sees curiosity in the green-gold gaze of his opponent. The way those eyes take him in, assessing his posture, his demeanour, the tension of his hands. 

The older boy understands that Caleb has seen the move and recognises it for what it is. Now he waits, quietly anticipating, to see what he does next. 

Caleb takes his main starship and, locking eyes with his opponent, adjusts its coordinates laterally. Damage mitigation. Preservation of resources. The feeble death throes of an opponent bound by the inevitability of loss.

The boy doesn’t dignify Caleb’s move with a glance. He remains motionless, his gaze so oppressive that Caleb feels like one of the countless defectors Lysander’s left to bleed on the battlements. He’s always felt that he’d be the type to face the bullet hurtling toward him, but this time Caleb lets his eyes fall.

The hall is quiet – the audience hushed with anticipation. Caleb would’ve thought he’d hear a grunt of victory from his opponent, at least. Instead he hears the slightest rustle of fabric as Zayne shifts forward. The quiet clack of a piece slotting into place.

Around them, court erupts with the furore of cannon-fire, but all Caleb can hear is a muffled ringing in his ears. 

Chapter 2: The Boyfriend (Part 1)

The scent hit me before I even opened the door. She was home but she wasn’t alone.

I probably should have turned around and headed back to the office or gone to a hotel for the night to let them have time alone like I had promised her, but I let my curiosity get the better of me instead.

The door creaked softly as I pushed it open, my shoes silent on the hardwood floor as I crept inside and closed it behind me. Their combined smell hit me like a punch to the gut—woodsmoke and apples mixed with her vanilla and chocolate covered cherries perfume.

My fingers twitched at my sides when I heard a low masculine moan, and I called myself a fool over and over for not turning around and leaving but I just couldn’t help myself. I had to see him… had to see the man who had the one woman I wanted most in this world.

I didn’t make a sound as I stepped further inside and lowered my backpack to the floor then I paused, staring at the wall as the sounds of skin slapping skin and low moans echoed around me. I tried to talk myself out of what I was about to do for exactly five seconds before I clenched my jaw and moved the four necessary steps across the foyer to the doorway of the living room.

And there they were—my Mac and her purple-eyed boyfriend illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the windows. They were both naked and covered in a thin layer of sweat. He had her bent over the back of the couch, pounding into her pussy while holding onto her hips so tightly I knew he would leave marks.

My chest tightened, claws pricking under my palms as I stood frozen in the shadows. Every muscle in my body screamed to turn around, walk out and never come back.

But then I heard him… Caleb. His deep voice, smooth but commanding while he whispered, "You feel so fucking good. So tight… made just for me."

Mac arched with a whimper, fingers gripping the couch cushion so tightly her knuckles were white. Her cheeks were flushed, green eyes glazed and half-lidded, those perfectly full, round breasts bouncing with every thrust of his hips.

The sight of them together burned.

Caleb was as gorgeous as Mac claimed… tall and broad-shouldered with a lean waist and long legs. His dark hair was messy and plastered to his forehead. Moonlight glistened on his sweat-slicked back and his ass flexed beautifully as he moved above her.

My claws dug into my palms, drawing faint streaks of blood. I didn’t even feel the pain. I was too focused on what was going on across the room.

I wanted to be the one claiming her pussy like that. Wanted her to cry out my name instead of his. Wanted everything she was giving him and… wanted him.

I should’ve hated him on principle alone.  He was the man who had the woman I wanted but watching them? It wasn’t just jealousy twisting inside me anymore… it was fascination.

Raw attraction crackled through me despite myself as Caleb leaned down and kissed her deeply, a messy clash of tongues and teeth, and suddenly he wasn't just some rival… he became a distraction all his own. One that I wanted as much as I wanted her.

The thought hit me like lightning… sudden, electric, terrifying.

I wanted to be in that room. Not just watching. Not lurking in the shadows like a jealous ghost. No—I wanted to step forward. To shed my clothes and walk into the moonlit space between them. To take and be taken.

I imagined peeling off my jacket first, letting it drop silently on the floor. My shoes would follow… then my dress shirt and my slacks until I was as naked as they were.

Caleb’s head would turn, maybe from the sound of the soft rustle of fabric or maybe the sound of my ragged breathing. His purple eyes would lock onto mine. Would they be surprised? Annoyed? Curious? Maybe angry?

Mac might be surprised that I was there and make him stop. Or maybe she wouldn’t and would beg him to keep going. Beg me to touch her the way I had always wanted to.

My cock hardened so fast it hurt and my breath hitched as the fantasy bloomed brightly behind my eyes—hot, vivid in detail and impossible to stop.

I saw myself stepping forward, bare feet silent on the cool hardwood. Caleb would freeze mid-thrust when he saw me. His purple eyes would widen, not in anger at being interrupted, but something sharper, instinctive recognition of a predator entering his den.

Mac would see me standing there and would gasp my name, softly at first then louder as realization hit her that I was there… watching… wanting… then she would squirm and whimper, begging Caleb to keep going while beckoning me closer.

Caleb’s lips would part slightly as he stared at me. He wouldn’t pull away or keep going like she begged him to. He wouldn’t shove her aside or snarl at me in warning like a jealous man would. No… something far more dangerous would flicker across his face.

Interest.

A slow, predatory smile would curl his lips as he studied me…. eyes trailing over my bare chest and abs then it would linger on the thick line of my cock jutting proudly from between my thighs before moving to my fists clenched at my sides then up to lock on my face.

He wouldn’t speak. He would just… stare. And that look—hot and assessing—would send a jolt straight down my spine and make a low whine leave my throat as my cock released a bead of precum that would trail down my length.

Mac would whimper beneath him at the sight, a soft sound caught between arousal and primal need, but Caleb wouldn’t glance down at her or move his hips to satisfy the need that would make her clench around his cock. Not yet.

Instead… he would slowly pull out with one long slide, making her gasp sharply at the sudden emptiness. Then he would straighten up fully behind her while still keeping one large hand possessively curled around her hip bone like an anchor.

No words. Just silence. Then… he would tilt his head slightly toward me and gesture with two fingers. The universal sign for "Come here."

The gesture would hit me like a command from an alpha—something I wouldn’t disobey. My feet would move before my brain would catch up, each step silent, deliberate. The air between us would thicken and he would keep his gaze locked on mine.

She would watch me approach and bite her lower lip when she saw the size of my cock. Her cheeks would flush darker, breath come faster. And not just from what they’d been doing before I found them but from me being here… naked… hard for them… needing them.

Caleb wouldn’t blink as I closed the distance. When no more than three feet separated us, I would pause under his heavy stare, watching, waiting, to see what he did next. Then without breaking eye contact… he would extend his hand toward me palm-up and—

"Fuck, baby, you gonna come for me?"

I blinked hard, the fantasy shattering around me like glass.

Real sounds flooded back in; the soft creak of the couch, Mac’s breathy moans, Caleb’s deep voice murmuring something intimate to her that I couldn’t quite make out. The heat in my chest cooled. My claws retracted. My cock twitched where it pushed insistently against my slacks underneath my palm.

I wasn’t naked and willing. I was in my clothes. In the dark hallway.

Alone. Untouched. Unwanted.

The contrast was brutal. One second, I was in a fantasy where they both wanted me, called to me and begged me to come take what I wanted… and now? Reality crashed down like ice water.

I swallowed hard, my palm pressing harder against my straining cock as Mac let out a low moan and begged him to move faster. When he whispered for her to beg for it, the thought crossed my mind that they couldn’t see me, didn’t even know that I was there and I could simply lower the zipper on my pants and pull my cock out to stroke it.

The temptation was agonizing and when Mac’s sweet voice rose, begging him to give her what she wanted my fingers flexed against my clothed cock again. I had to force myself to bite back a groan as I watched him obey Mac’s plea.

His hips snapped forward with renewed intensity, driving into her with deep, powerful thrusts that made the couch creak. Sweat gleamed on his shoulders and back as he bent over her again to kiss and bite at her neck while one hand slid around to squeeze and roll one of those perfect breasts in his palm.

I exhaled shakily before slowly unbuttoning and unzipping then easing both slacks and boxers down my hips just enough for my stiff length to spring free. The cool air hit my overheated skin the moment I freed myself, and a shudder ran through me as my cock twitched eagerly against my belly, already leaking at the tip.

I wrapped my hand around my length, testing the weight of it before giving one experimental stroke from base to tip with a slight twist around the sensitive head. A quiet hiss escaped between my clenched teeth.

Her moans rose higher as his thrusts grew faster, hips slamming into hers with possessive force that made every breath in her lungs hitch and stutter. Her fingers clawed at the hand that was splayed across her lower belly. Her back arched and her head flew back to rest on his shoulder.

I stroked myself faster, thumb swiping over the leaking head just to smear pre-cum down the shaft before twisting again at the top for that sweet friction right where I needed it most… all while biting my lower lip so they wouldn't hear me.

The room smelled like sex and sweat along with the natural scent of their bodies tangled together. Every slap of skin against skin sent a jolt through me, each moan Mac made curling low in my gut, each possessive growl Caleb uttered making my cock throb harder.

I stroked myself faster now, palm slick with pre-cum as I watched him dominate her completely. The way her body writhed against his in the moonlight. The look of ecstasy on her beautiful as he took what was his. And yet… although I had been obsessed with her for months, it wasn’t just her that had me mesmerized. It was him also.

His sharp profile, his strong jawline, the way his lips parted as he panted for breath between kisses to her shoulder. When she cried out from another deep stroke, his mouth curved into a smug smirk that hit me squarely in the gut.

My strokes turned needier then, rough near the base before twisting upward again while I bit down on my lip so hard I drew blood to stay silent. I wanted to let a whimper or a groan, so they’d know someone else was here… but no… this was mine alone. This pleasure born from watching them burn. From imagining being part of it instead of standing in the shadows watching.

I should have hated him for having her like this. Should’ve turned away before I got addicted to watching them… to wanting them like this. But… they were beautiful together and I just couldn’t help myself.

The air grew heavier with every passing second, thick with lust and something electric I couldn’t quite name. My hand moved faster along my cock, speeding up to match the desperate pace of Caleb’s lean hips.

Mac was gasping beneath him, her body writhing under his touch. Every thrust made the couch shudder slightly against the floorboards as he hooked one arm around her waist to keep her in place while his other hand roamed possessively over every curve. Down her hip to her thigh, to her ass cheek where he squeezed hard enough to leave a mark before moving between her thighs.

My breathing hitched when she jerked and let a whimper that sounded like his name. I stroked faster, hips rocking subtly into my fist while the other dropped down between my thighs and started toying with my balls. Every swipe over my leaking tip sent sparks up my spine and pulled me closer to the edge because all I could think about right then?

What if those same fingers brushed against my cock next?

What if it was my cock inside that tight pussy?

What if those lips kissed me after kissing hers?

What if it was my arm she was digging her nails into?

What would happen if Caleb turned those purple eyes toward the shadows where I stood watching them like some desperate voyeur and decided to pull me right into their heated mess?

As soon as the thought crossed my mind, he slowed down until his hips came to a stop pressed against her ass then he leaned forward until his lips brushed her ear.

She whined and pressed back against him whispering, "Please, Caleb."

He whispered something in her ear, making her body tense then she simply melted. A shiver ran through her, and she nodded eagerly before twisting slightly to glance over her shoulder at him with glassy, pleading eyes.

He didn’t say anything else. He just smirked—a slow, dangerous curve of his lips that made my stomach flip and then he straightened up and ran his fingers down Mac’s back. For a second… nothing else happened then his purple eyes flicked up… straight toward me. Right where I stood hidden in the shadows, cock still gripped tight, heart pounding wildly… caught red-handed.

Time stopped. For one breathless second, I didn’t move. Didn’t blink. My pulse roared in my ears, hand freezing mid-stroke. I didn’t know whether to cover myself or keep stroking, didn’t know if I should bolt out the door and pretend this never happened or stand my ground like some idiot hoping they'd invite me into their bed.

His gaze locked onto mine but there was no shock or anger in his eyes. Just pure, predatory awareness and then he smiled. Not a friendly smile. Not even an amused one but something far more dangerous… interest laced with dark approval and maybe a challenge?

My blood turned to fire.

That smile—slow, knowing, hungry—sent a shockwave through my entire body. My cock twitched violently in my grip, and I suddenly forgot how to breathe.

He didn’t look away. Didn’t speak. He just kept staring at me with those deep violet eyes that seemed to see deep down into my soul. Then he moved. In one fluid motion, he pulled out of Mac’s pussy, ignoring her soft whimper of protest as he stepped back. His naked body glistened under the moonlight as he turned fully toward me, eyes falling to where I was still clutching my cock like some guilty schoolboy caught jerking off during class hours.

Mac finally noticed something was happening and pushed up so she was standing and turned around. Her green eyes widened when she saw me… naked from the waist down, hand wrapped around my thick cock, face burning with shame and arousal in equal measure. "…Valko?"

She didn't say anything else. Neither did he. He simply started walking toward me… each step deliberate… powerful…

I panicked, spinning around and bolting down the hallway, heart slamming against my ribs. My feet slapped against the floor as I fled, cock bouncing against my stomach with every stride as I tried to pull the pants half-hanging off my hips up so I could get away.

Every nerve screamed at me to run. Not because I feared them… but because this wasn’t supposed to happen. This wasn’t how it was meant to go. I didn't want them seeing me like this—half-naked and desperate while jerking off to them have sex. It was pathetic. Embarrassing.

My shoulder slammed into the wall by the front door as I tripped over my backpack and almost went head over heels to the floor. The crash of the coat rack toppling to the floor echoed through the quiet apartment as I dropped to my knees on the hardwood with a sharp crack of pain.

Fuck fuck fuck.

I scrambled up like an animal fleeing a predator’s den. The front door was right there, three steps away. I could wrench it open and disappear into the night. I could send for my things and move far, far away. I could—

A body slammed into mine, the impact knocking the breath from my lungs. A massive, muscular chest pinned me flat against the door, warm and solid as steel.

Caleb didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.

His bare skin burned through my clothes where he pressed into me, the heat of his body radiating like a furnace. His scent exploded around me: musky sweat with that faint hint of woodsmoke mixed with Mac’s cherry scent, and a low whine escaped me before I could stop it.

Before I could react, one large hand shot up beside my head, slamming flat against the wood right next to my face, and caged me in completely while his other arm hooked around my waist like an iron bar locking us together.

"Going somewhere?" he murmured. His face was inches from mine, close enough that I could feel the warmth of his breath, see every dark lash framing those mesmerizing purple eyes. They weren’t angry. Not even annoyed.

They were dark with something far more dangerous. Desire. Hunger. Possession.

Before I could utter a single word—before my brain fully processed what was happening—his lips crashed onto mine in a searing kiss that stole every thought, every breath from my lungs.

NOTE: There are 2 surprises coming in the chapter I will post next Wednesday & one of them is Valko. I took several hours yesterday to rewrite the last few chapters of this fic as well as the one that follows to include our wolfie. (He is one of the LI's in the next fic, Chaos & Moonshine. I won't be saying who the 2nd LI is, but you'll probably figure it out when you read Chapter 10 lol.) I posted yesterday saying that if Infold doesn't want to give Valko a voice & a story then I will & I intend to do so. JusticeForValko

Chapter 9

Five days later

Taking a sip of my iced caramel latte, I glanced at my phone for the hundredth time since I sat down.

The text messages from the day after everything went so wrong were haunting me…

Me: I’m going to use some of my pto & take a few days.

Sylus: No, you have appointments scheduled.

Me: Reschedule them. I need this & I have the time.

Sylus: Fine. But you can’t run from this forever, Bay. You need to make a decision.

That was the problem… I DID need to make a decision. And every time I tried, my brain shut down, my thoughts spiraled, and I ended up more confused than I was when I started.

It's not like I was unaware of how selfish I was being… keeping them both on a string like this... it was a pretty shitty thing to do but I was scared.

I was scared of losing them… I was scared of making the wrong choice…

I couldn't do it.

Not yet.

I took a deep breath, closing the messages and setting my phone aside.

It had been almost a week since I had sent those messages, and it had been radio silence from them both since.

And that silence was deafening.

I should’ve been relieved—they weren’t hounding me, they weren't showing up unannounced like Caleb had that morning after the fight. No more texts demanding answers, no more late-night calls from Sylus with his rough voice low and dangerous through the phone.

Just... nothing.

It was what I had wanted but it hurt.

Every time I checked my phone and saw no notifications or missed calls, my chest tightened until breathing felt impossible and all I could think was… They gave up on you.

They didn't chase me this time because maybe they finally realized how ridiculous this whole situation really was; maybe they'd decided to cut their losses before things got even messier than they already were… or worse?

I sighed, taking another sip of my coffee and staring miserably across the little outdoor café. The weather was hot, the sun shining brightly and the air thick and almost stifling even with the cool breeze blowing now and then.

It should've been a relaxing atmosphere, a nice place to chill out and clear my mind... instead, I felt a headache coming on.

I sighed and rubbed my forehead as if it would help.

"Is this seat taken?"

The voice startled me, making me jump and almost spill some of my coffee as I turned my head to see who was speaking.

Standing beside my table was a handsome man, tall and broad with dark hair, sharp, intelligent green eyes and a polite half-smile. He was wearing a pair of black slacks and a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows with a pair of sunglasses dangling from one hand while the other held a steaming cup of coffee.

I recognized him as the man whose cock I had pierced a little over a week ago.

Zayne.

He was just as gorgeous as the first time I’d seen him… unforgettable in every single way from his looks to his professional demeanor to the aura of calm he radiated just standing there.

If I hadn’t been hung up on two men already, I might have taken this opportunity to maybe flirt a little and possibly get a date out of him, but I wasn’t anything but curious.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," he said.

I swallowed and forced a polite smile. "It's fine," I said, gesturing to the seat across from me. "You can sit if you want."

He nodded his thanks and slid into the chair, setting his coffee down on the table then he leaned back, one leg crossing over his knee. "I recognize you," he said softly. "… you're the one who did my piercing."

My cheeks warmed slightly at the reminder that I’d had this man’s cock in my hands, and I took another sip of my coffee to stall. "Yes," I said, "I am."

He smiled, studying me for a moment before he leaned forward, resting his arms on the table and trailing his finger along the side of his coffee cup. "You have a very steady hand."

I shook my head, clearing my throat and crossing one leg over the other. "Well, I wouldn’t be a very good piercer if I didn't."

He chuckled. "I suppose that's true. I was surprised, is all."

I raised an eyebrow, my curiosity piqued. "Surprised by what, exactly? My steady hand or…?"

His lips curled up into a sly smile. "I was expecting someone a little more… rough around the edges when I came into your shop… I guess you could say."

I couldn't help but huff a laugh, my own smile mirroring his. "Ah, you mean you were expecting some big, burly, scary, tattooed punk, all leather and spikes?"

The corners of his lips lifted higher, that sharp intelligence flashing in his eyes as he leaned back. "Something like that," he admitted. "But you? You're… unexpected."

His gaze dropped to the delicate silver rings on my tattooed fingers—then up again to meet mine with a slow drag of his tongue over his bottom lip before adding, "In a good way."

There was something in the way he said it—the kind of quiet confidence that made me shift slightly. It wasn’t quite flirting… but it could be if I let it go there.

A quiet moment passed as our gazes lingered, my heart doing a strange kick in my chest that left me feeling a bit breathless.

He was charming, that was undeniable, but I couldn't let myself get caught up. Just because my situation was complicated didn't mean I was going to drag anyone else into this… even if the thought of having something uncomplicated was more than a little attractive.

His smile softened, as if sensing the hesitation. He took a sip of his coffee, those sharp green eyes never leaving mine over the rim of his cup.

"Something on your mind?"

I shifted uncomfortably, fingers tightening around my latte before forcing them to relax with visible effort. "Just... work stuff," I lied poorly while thinking You have no idea how screwed I am right now.

He studied me for a long moment—too perceptive by half—then set his cup down with deliberate care. "Hmm…" A pause then, "I know we don’t know each other very well besides the obvious…" he said with a small smile. "… but if you need to talk, I happen to be an excellent listener."

I was almost tempted to call bullshit on that last part because he was right… he hardly knew me, why would he possibly want to listen to whatever problems I had?

But as soon as the thought crossed my mind, I chided myself.

He was being kind… whether it was because he was the type of person who would sit and listen to the woes of others or because I had been there for such an intimate moment in his life didn’t matter. He struck me as the kind of man who cared about the people he knew… even the ones he met for such trivial matters as getting a piercing.

But… how did I explain I was in love with two men who wanted me to choose between them instead of me being able to have both to a perfect stranger?

I was about to decline; to brush off this stranger's random offer of listening to some random problems… but something made me pause.

He was being so normal. Friendly. Casual.

There was no judgment, no expectations… and the thought of having a conversation with someone who was on the outside felt like a lifeline.

He silently watched what I knew were a dozen different emotions cross my face… saw the way my grip tightened on the cup, how I bit at my lower lip like I was physically wrestling with something but he didn’t push.

Just let that charged silence stretch between us as he took another sip of coffee.

When he finally spoke again, his voice was quieter. "Look…" A pause as he leaned forward slightly over the table. "I don’t know you beyond the pleasantries we exchanged when you had me with my pants around my ankles."

The corner of his mouth quirked up at that before continuing, "But if there's one thing life has taught me? It’s that sometimes random strangers are better at listening to life’s troubles than those who actually know us."

His gaze held mine steadily… still not pushing but not retreating either; leaving room for me to deny him or tell him the truth while making it clear he wasn't going anywhere unless I dismissed him outright.

And dammit if part of me didn't want to spill every messy detail right then and there just to see what he would say...

"Okay," I found myself muttering before I could stop myself.

The word hung in the air like an invitation, heavy with a mix of relief and trepidation… but before I could find my head and take them back, he was leaning forward, his forearms resting on the table and his expression serious.

"Tell me what happened," he said, voice low and soft.

I took a deep breath to gather my thoughts and try to figure out where to begin…

He stayed silent, waiting with the kind of patience that didn’t feel like pity or judgment, just genuine care… and it was that that had me taking a trembling breath then I started talking.

He didn't flinch. Didn't even blink as I explained… his expression remained carefully neutral, but his fingers flexed slightly around his coffee cup before he forcibly relaxed them again.

"Sylus and Caleb," he repeated quietly, testing the weight of their names in his mouth like a foreign word, "You're dating two men? The ones who work with you at the shop?"

There was no judgment in either of those questions—just quiet observation and something else beneath it… curiosity? A flicker of intrigue?

"Yeah… well, sort of," I admitted with a huff of amusement. The word 'dating' felt so casual for all that had happened considering how this mess had started… but I wasn't sure what else to call it. "It's… complicated. Really complicated," I said with another half-laugh, shaking my head.

The corner of his mouth quirked up in a small, wry smile. "I get the feeling complicated is an understatement." His tone was dry, but the look in his eyes was understanding. "What's so complicated about it, if you don't mind me asking?"

I hesitated again, wondering how personal I should get with a man I hardly knew… but the offer to listen had been genuine. No matter what I said, and how personal I got he would listen with no judgement… and damn if it wasn't difficult to ignore how freeing that was.

"I… we…" I trailed off as a blush spread across my face and I took a drink of my latte, trying to think of how to say this.

The corner of his mouth quirked up, almost into a smirk, as if he knew what I was hesitating to say. "You're sleeping with both of them."

The words were pointed… blunt. Not an accusation… just a statement, and something about the way he said it without judgment had my cheeks flaming hotter. "I… yeah. I am."

"At the same time?"

I nodded, unable to meet his eyes. "Yeah…"

A slow whistle escaped him before he let out a quiet chuckle. "Okay, so you're sleeping with two men who work with you… both of whom are aware they're not the only one in your bed." He rubbed at his chin thoughtfully for a moment before adding dryly, "That is complicated."

The way he said it made me huff out another laugh despite myself because yeah… that was putting it mildly. "This sounds so bad," I muttered, dragging my hands down my flushed cheeks.

"I have no room to judge," he said with a shake of his head. "You're not the only one with a complicated love life, believe it or not."

My eyes widened, a mixture of surprise and curiosity suddenly overcoming the embarrassment. "No way? You?" I blurted out before I could stop myself.

He chuckled again. "Don't sound so shocked."

But I was shocked.

He was gorgeous, charming and intelligent… the guy probably had women and men throwing themselves at him left and right… and the thought that he was having his own complicated love life had me leaning forward, wanting to know more.

"I just… you seem so… cool and collected and obviously you’re gorgeous. I can't imagine you in a situation like mine," I admitted, shaking my head.

One eyebrow rose at my words but there was something like amusement gleaming in his eyes. "Is that so?"

My cheeks flamed again at the implication in his low voice, heat flaring beneath my skin. He gave me a slow, almost lazy smile as if he could see the way my mind was already running through questions and scenarios and it had me shifting slightly in my seat.

He leaned back, casually crossing his leg over his knee again and resting his arm along the back of the chair… the pose made him look languid and relaxed, but it also drew attention to his lean, muscled frame in a way that had my mouth going a bit dry.

"I'm in a complicated situation," he murmured, his voice dropping lower, "not like yours, but… complicated all the same."

"Okay, now I’m curious," I finally managed, trying to keep my voice even as my imagination ran wild at the possibilities… "What's your complicated love life, then?"

He glanced away, watching a few birds swoop back and forth between the trees, his expression turning uncharacteristically pensive.

"It's a long story."

I could sense the hesitation in his voice, the way his fingers drummed against the back of the seat… something that felt eerily familiar to the way I had been reacting since this conversation had started. "I've got time."

Several hours later, I walked through my front door feeling lighter than I had in days.

Something had lifted from my shoulders after spending time with and talking to Zayne for so long… and it wasn't just having a new, outside opinion on my situation.

It was talking to someone who wasn't wrapped up in this mess. Someone who wasn't emotionally invested. Someone who didn't expect anything from me, no judgement or explanations… no demands or expectations. Someone who understood on some level.

I dropped onto the couch with a sigh, dragging my hands over my face before finally reaching for my phone because despite everything?

I needed to know if they were even thinking about me.

There were two text messages… one from Sylus two hours ago and another from Caleb from thirty minutes ago.

Sylus: Where are you.

No question mark. Just a demand carved from ice and something far more dangerous beneath the words even through a text message.

I winced, swallowing hard at the way my skin suddenly felt like it was crawling.

He was pissed… but was it because I hadn’t messaged or called or was it something else?

There was no way he could know I had spent the afternoon and evening with another man drinking coffee then having dinner that involved nothing more than conversation, could he?

A sigh escaped me and I rubbed at the tension that had suddenly settled between my shoulders then quickly typed out a response.

Me: I’m fine. I'm at home.

His response came faster than I expected… and it made me want to throw something.

Sylus: Alone or with someone?

The way he phrased that—with someone—had my fingers freezing over the screen.

Me: Just me.

Not a lie, technically.

Zayne had technically been with me for hours today… but he wasn’t with me now.

Sylus: Good. Stay there. I'm coming over.

He was coming over? Now? After days of silence where I hadn’t been sure if we were even friends anymore?

Anxiety twisted in my stomach as I glanced at the clock, realizing it was almost eight at night already, which meant the shop had either closed early or he had taken off specifically to come talk to me.

So he could already be on his way, or he just now be leaving.

For a split second, I debated telling him not to bother or that we could talk when I was ready but the memory of his cold, demanding text made me stop.

He was already pissed. Telling him NO would only make it worse.

But… I still wasn’t ready to make a decision and him showing up here right now would only confuse me further so I typed out a response and put my phone down beside me while I waited to see what he would say.

Me: No. I still need time and you being here won’t help anything.

A minute passed… then another… and finally my phone vibrated with his response.

Sylus: Bullshit. You’ve had plenty of time. We’ve given you six days and not heard a damn word from you. I’m on my way. I'm walking through your door and we're talking.

I couldn't help but roll my eyes, annoyed at the way he was ordering me around like he had the right to make those decisions for me. I knew he was irritated… I knew he was ready for an answer but he had to know this kind of thing wasn't going to make me want to hear him out.

Me: You can't just come over without warning and expect we're going to talk about this. You need to give me more time. You haven't even tried to reach out until now and when you do, you’re demanding that I give you my attention and an answer all because you say?

His response came seconds later… more demanding than the last message.

Sylus: Yes.

One word. That was it.

No explanation, no plea—just a silent threat wrapped in silk that went straight down my spine like lightning. My fingers tightened around the phone so hard it creaked, heart hammering against my ribs as I stared at the screen.

He knew exactly what that kind of response would do to me—because he always did this when push came to shove… skip right past reason and go straight for control, daring me to fight back just so he could pin me down and make his point anyway.

I exhaled sharply through clenched teeth before typing out one last reply.

Me: Then I won’t be here when you arrive.

It was a stupid, risky thing to say when I knew he was already pissed off, but the thought of him coming here and demanding answers like I owed him something was enough to make heat flare in my chest.

He could try to find me if he really wanted to—but it would be on my terms, not his.

I pushed to my feet, grabbing my keys and backpack before tossing them over my shoulder and leaving the apartment.

It was windy, the night air biting against my face as I walked, but the sharp chill was almost welcome after the heat of the day. I kept my head down, hood pulled up to block as much wind as possible as I walked along the sidewalk.

I could have called for a cab to make my life easier, but I wanted to walk... needed to burn the restless energy and irritation that had been building for the last six days before I snapped.

It was ridiculous to put off this inevitable confrontation but… the urge to run away was hard to resist so I kept moving… entering a crowded area that was known for its nightlife.

The streets were full of people moving from bar to bar in search of an escape from life but they quickly became background noise as I tried to figure out where I was going.

I knew this area… knew the little hole-in-the-wall bars and seedy establishments where people gathered for a good time… had spent a lot of my youth here with Sylus and Caleb, getting into trouble and having fun.

This area was the perfect place for someone to get lost in and hide from the things they didn’t want to face in the light of day.

A few minutes later, I came across a bar I used to frequent with Sylus and Caleb and hesitated for a second before I took a shaky breath, pushed the door open and stepped inside where the sounds of rock and roll music, glasses clinking together and people talking filled the air immediately.

The name had changed but the inside hadn't since I last came in, the low lighting and music still the same as I made my way to the bar, ignoring the few heads that turned to watch me. I wasn’t here for small talk or pleasantries… I was here to drink away my worries and maybe get some clarity.

I dropped onto a stool, trying not to look too desperate as I reached for a menu and tried to ignore the way my heart was hammering in my chest.

The bartender—a handsome man with bright blue eyes and sandy blonde hair—sauntered over, wiping his hands on a rag. "You look like you're about to bolt," he said dryly, eyeing the death grip I had on the menu.

I exhaled, forcing myself to relax my fingers before letting it go entirely and placing it on the countertop in front of me. "Rough day."

He snorted but didn't push for details as he leaned his hands on the counter. "Alright then… whiskey? Beer? Something fruity with an umbrella?"

I almost laughed at his last suggestion but managed to keep it together and tried to act nonchalant as I leaned back slightly and studied the wall of liquor behind him. "Tequila," I replied, the word coming out a little too quickly. "And keep ‘em coming."

His eyebrows rose at my bluntness, and he let out another snort that had the corner of my mouth twitching. "Rough day indeed," he said teasingly. "You know it's bad when a pretty thing like you is asking for straight tequila."

I rolled my eyes, feeling my cheeks heat with embarrassment and annoyance at being called a pretty thing. "Yeah well, it's been one hell of a week," I said with a sigh, running a hand through my hair before adding, "Call me pretty again and I'll kick your ass."

He chuckled, the sound loud and amused as he placed a glass on the countertop then reached under the bar for a bottle of tequila before pouring me two fingers worth. "Feisty. I like it," he said, setting it down in front of me but not letting go of it.

I stared at him, unamused, as I tapped my finger on the countertop impatiently. "Yeah? No jokes or flirting… just tequila."

The glass slid across the counter toward me as he smirked.

"Ouch."

I took the glass and downed a long swallow, the tequila burning as it went down. It wasn't the cheap stuff either… it was the good stuff and it had a smooth, almost sweet finish.

I set the glass back down, already feeling the heat and irritation starting to bleed away as I shoved the glass back toward him with a head tilt indicating I wanted some more.

He chuckled again, taking the glass and pouring me another… this time three fingers worth. "Damn… a woman who can hold her liquor. Marry me?"

"Shut up," I muttered, taking the glass and downing half the contents in one swallow.

He chuckled as he turned and walked off to go help a man further down the bar, leaving me to my misery.

Somewhere between drinks two and three something shifted… my shoulders loosened just enough so breathing didn't feel like such an effort anymore. It was stupid that tequila could do anything other than blur edges around reality’s sharp corners but damn if it didn’t feel good.

I'd just finished drink number four when a group of people came into the bar, taking a table nearby and ordering a round of beers as they talked loudly about the concert they had just gone to and how they wanted to get the lead singers autograph tattooed on their skin.

By drink number six I was laughing and flirting with the bartender in the way only a tipsy person could… shamelessly and obnoxiously. He was enjoying the attention… flirting back as I leaned closer, my tongue slipping out to swipe over my bottom lip in a move I knew was provocative.

He was handsome, confident and charming… and any other day I would have been all over him for that alone, but those thoughts were shoved aside as I remembered why I was here in the first place.

I had a decision to make… an important one that didn’t involve dark-haired men who sat and listened to me drone on and on about the men I was in love with or blue-eyed bartenders who looked like they could wreck me without even trying.

"Can I ask you something?" I said suddenly, cutting off the bartender in the middle of a story. He raised an eyebrow at my bluntness, pausing to take in the look on my face before nodding.

"Sure… go ahead."

"You ever been in a situation where you can't have what you want?" I asked, taking another swallow of tequila.

He paused, studying me like he was trying to figure out the meaning behind my words then he nodded. "Yeah… I think we've all been there at one point or another."

I snorted, shaking my head and signaling for him to pour me another. "This isn't like deciding which brand of toothpaste to buy or what shirt to wear in the morning."

"Okay," he said, leaning his hands on the counter again. "Then enlighten me."

I paused, taking a deep breath before blurting out, "I'm in a love triangle."

He raised his eyebrows, surprise flashing over his features. "A love triangle? As in-"

I let out a sharp, bitter laugh, cutting him off. "Yeah." My fingers tightened around the glass, knuckles whitening as I stared down at the liquid swirling inside. "Two men—both of them incredible in completely different ways—and they want me to choose one."

"Damn," he muttered after a beat of silence, "They know about each other?"

I nodded once, the motion more a wince than anything. "Yeah… it's an entire shitshow."

"And they want you to choose one of them?"

I exhaled sharply, the sound rough and frustrated as I tapped my fingers against the glass. "Not just want me to," I muttered bitterly. "They're making it a damn ultimatum."

His expression shifted—something unreadable flickering in his eyes before he schooled it back into careful neutrality. His voice dropped lower when he asked, "And what do you want?"

That stopped me cold.

My throat tightened around words that had been spinning in circles for days now… words I hadn't let myself say out loud because acknowledging them made this all too real, "I don't know how to pick one. I can’t… and I won’t so I choose neither…"

NOTE: If you don't like Valko or agree with him being cancelled don't bother leaving a comment... keep your opinion to yourself. If you do decide to leave a comment, I WILL delete it. If you like Valko just know that my accounts are all a safe place for Valko girlies & you're more than welcome to talk about him here. On my AO3 & my TikTok. Happy reading!!

Part 2

The kiss was intense… almost brutal in its intensity. He gripped my face, his fingers digging into the flesh of my jaw as he kissed me, his tongue sweeping into my mouth and mapping every inch of the soft, wet flesh in long, slow strokes as he pressed me into the top of the desk.

I trembled as my fingers dug into the hard muscle of his arms, trying to anchor myself as my body arched against him, my mouth opening as wide as I could get it to accommodate his demanding tongue.

He groaned then broke the kiss, panting as a low, dark sound escaped him. "Did you think I wouldn’t find out? That you'd be able to sneak around like some common street rat?" His hand slid from my throat to grasp at the fabric covering my body, yanking it roughly so the thin silk ripped down the middle, baring my breasts covered in the flimsy material of my chemise to the cool air in the room. "Did you wear this for him? Let him touch what belongs to me?"

I gasped as the cool air hit my exposed skin, my hands flying up to cover myself… partly from shame that he would see the fancy chemise that I had had made, partly because I knew he’d see how hard and swollen my nipples were beneath the thin lacy fabric. "Y-yours…" I stammered, trembling under his furious gaze as he yanked at what remained of my dress until the beautiful garment was in tatters around me. "I am not yours!"

His hand shot to my throat, his grip light as he pushed me onto my back and leaned down so our bodies were touching. His voice dropped into something low and dangerous, "You are mine, Zaya! In every lifetime you’ve been mine and every lifetime after this you will continue to be mine."

His words sent a shiver through me, fear and desire warring with my common sense... my sense of self-preservation. "N-No..." I managed to gasp, my fingers clawing at his hand. "Y-you hate me. You ignore me. I-I don’t belong to you…"

But even as I said the words, I knew they weren’t true. There was a part of me that had always known that I belonged to him, would always belong to him... ever since the moment I had woken up and seen those piercing violet eyes.

He let out a dark, humorless laugh as he watched tears well in my eyes, thumb stroking over the frantic pulse in my throat. "Hate you?" The words came out rough, almost pained. "I don’t hate you, Zaya. I love you… more than anything. You were made for me, the other half of my soul. I spent the last eighty years watching you from the shadows like some lovesick fool trying to save you from the inevitable end. We shouldn’t be together… every time we’ve tried has ended in heartbreak… one of us always dying only for the other to bring us back then spend years trying to get them to remember. I was trying to save us from that, but I can’t stay away. Not anymore. I will take you… claim you… so you will never doubt what I feel for you again."

The tears that had formed in my eyes spilled over at the raw pain and anguish in his voice, the anger and possessive need making my heart ache and my body tremble. Every rational thought screamed that this was wrong—that he had spent years ignoring me, leaving me to wither in silence—yet the raw truth in his voice shattered any resistance I had left.

My breath came in short gasps as tears spilled down my cheeks, streaking through the kohl still clinging to my lashes. "Y-You… you watched me?"

He pressed a kiss against my pulse before his lips skimmed over my jawline then up my cheek, kissing along the tear trails before moving to my lips. "Yes, every second... waiting for the right time to come to you and now that I have you, I will never let you go."

I shuddered as his mouth covered mine in another punishing kiss… this one more desperate, almost bruising as he claimed me with harsh strokes of his tongue. My mind spun as my arms came up, trembling as I wrapped them around his neck and pulled him closer, arching against him as my legs wrapped around his waist.

He growled into my mouth, his hands grasping my thighs and yanking me to the edge of the desk, his body pressing tight against mine. He groaned, the sound low and pained, when my pussy grinded against his hard cock then his lips were leaving mine, trailing slow, burning kisses down the sensitive skin of my neck.

He paused at the hollow of my collarbone, scraping his teeth over the sensitive skin before his mouth moved lower, his tongue lapping at the sweat beading on my skin, his breathing rapid and harsh as he continued down my chest.

Grabbing the chemise, he ripped it down the middle like he had my dress and parted the fabric, exposing my bare breasts and belly to his gaze.

I swallowed hard and once again resisted the urge to cover myself, but it was quickly drowned out when his mouth closed over one peaked nipple. The sensation was electric—his teeth grazing just enough to make me squirm, his tongue soothing the sting in slow circles before sucking hard.

My back arched off the desk as a sharp cry tore from my throat, hands flying to tangle in his dark hair as pleasure burned through me like wildfire.

He growled against my skin, the vibration sending another jolt straight to my pussy. His tongue flicked over my swollen nipple again before he switched sides without warning, lavishing the other one with equal attention until I was writhing beneath him.

"My Lord, please," I gasped out when his teeth grazed too hard.

Those violet eyes snapped up at me from under thick lashes; dark and hungry as they raked over every exposed inch of my skin before landing on my face. He inhaled sharply at whatever he saw there then mumbled, "Caleb, not Lord," against the sensitive skin of my breast.

My breath caught, something stirring in my chest as I stared at him, the hunger in his eyes leaving me breathless. "Caleb," I whispered, the name feeling unfamiliar on my tongue yet so right… like I had moaned, whined and whimpered it a thousand times under similar circumstances and hundreds more.

He made a hungry sound low in his throat. "Say it again."

"Caleb," I uttered obediently, my heart fluttering with the intimate sound.

"Good girl," he growled, a feral gleam in his eyes as he moved lower, his lips and teeth scraping against the skin of my stomach… down the curve of my hip… down the inside of my thigh as he shoved my knees wider, making me arch.

My hands reached out blindly as I desperately sought for something to anchor me as he kissed, sucked and nipped at the sensitive skin above my knee… higher and higher until he paused at the flimsy material covering my pussy.

His breath hitched as he pressed his nose against the damp fabric, inhaling deeply with a low groan. "Hmm... you smell heavenly and you're already soaked for me." His voice was rough with lust as his fingers hooked into the thin cotton of my undergarments, tearing them down the middle without warning.

The cool air kissed my exposed flesh for only a second before his tongue dragged through my folds in one long, filthy stroke. I cried out sharply, back arching off the desk as pleasure shot up my spine like lightning.

He growled before diving his tongue inside me hungrily, two thick fingers joining seconds later without warning, scissoring inside me then driving in deep and curling.

I cried out, my body jerking violently as his fingers and tongue worked in perfect rhythm. My hands flew to grip the edge of the desk, knuckles turning white as pleasure built too fast—too intense—my needy, touch starved body not handling the new sensations well. "C-Caleb!" I sobbed, hips bucking against his face helplessly.

He groaned, the vibrations making me clench around his fingers while that wicked tongue circled my swollen clit with punishing precision. His free hand gripped my thigh and pulled it over his shoulder when I tried squirming away. "Stay still," he demanded darkly before diving back in deeper, tongue thrusting inside as another finger joined the first two, stretching me obscenely wide in preparation for his cock.

My breath came in ragged, desperate gasps as I stared down at him between my legs… this man who had spent decades ignoring me was now worshiping my body with a hunger that made my toes curl. His dark hair was tousled from my fingers, his lips glistening with the evidence of how much I wanted him, his eyes closed and cheeks flushed with pleasure. He looked beautiful.

"P-Please..." I begged weakly, not even sure what for anymore—more? Less?

He lifted his head just enough to meet my gaze through hooded eyes while those sinful fingers kept moving. "What do you want?" he rasped.

I whimpered, my hips jerking helplessly against his hand as I tried to form words through the haze of pleasure. "Y-You," I gasped, the truth tumbling out unbidden. "Please... I need you."

His eyes darkened with something feral at my confession, a muscle in his jaw twitching as he let out a slow breath through flared nostrils. His fingers slowed their movements just enough to make me squirm… just enough to be cruel before pulling them out of my body. "You need me?" he repeated in a low growl, moving so his clothed cock was pressed against my pussy.

I swallowed hard, my body shaking and trembling, so desperate for him I could barely see straight. "Yes," I whispered.

His gaze flicked to mine, dark and hungry, and the air seemed to crackle with something violent. "Prove it," he growled, his words like a command.

My breath hitched, eyes widening at the challenge and the possessive need behind it. "H-how...?" I managed to murmur, still trying to get my body under control.

He stood slowly, his hands gliding up my trembling body to my forearms. "I want that pretty mouth on me," he said, voice low and dangerous as he pulled me up until I was sitting then he leaned in and whispered, "On my body, on my cock… everywhere."

I shivered at the dark, possessive words, my body and emotions screaming yes… yes to whatever he wanted. "Okay," I whispered as he moved away so I could slide off the desk.

We switched places with him leaning back against the desk where I had just been laying across it, eyes never leaving mine as I sank to my knees. His gaze was fixated on my face, watching every expression as he removed the jagged pieces of cloth, belts and ribbons around his waist and threw them aside until he was left in nothing but a pair of form fitting black pants that hugged every part of his body from the waist down.

My breaths came in soft, shallow pants as I looked at the proof of his need straining the front of his pants then I reached up, running my hands up his strong thighs, tracing the lines of his taut muscles through the expensive pants until they fumbled with the buckle of his belt. The metal clinked loudly in the quiet room, making me flinch.

I finally got it undone and pulled his pants down his thighs to free him. He was huge. Thick and long, flushed dark purple at the tip where a bead of precum glistened invitingly with trimmed, dark hair around the base.

My stomach twisted in anticipation as I wrapped one hand around him experimentally… then another when that didn’t even cover half and lightly squeezed until the precum on his tip slid down his shaft towards my fingers. Fascinated, I ran a fingertip through the glistening fluid and brought it to my lips, letting out a low moan at his taste.

"Taste good?" he growled.

I nodded, my cheeks flushing at the question, but the look in his eyes made me want to tease him, so I licked my lips, his taste lingering like warm honey. "Yes," I murmured, then ran my thumb over his head, pressing against the underside lightly before leaning forward and sliding my lips as far down his length as I could go.

 He let out a sharp, punched-out groan as my lips stretched around him, his hips jerking forward involuntarily. One of his hands fisted in my hair—not guiding, just holding—as he watched with rapt attention. "Fuck," he rasped when I pulled back slightly to lick the underside of his cockhead before taking him deep again. My throat fluttered around him and a string of curses spilled from his lips as precum dripped onto my tongue.

His other hand suddenly cupped the back of my head—not forcing me down but making sure I didn’t pull away—his breathing ragged like an animal barely holding onto control, "That's it… take all you can."

I gagged slightly, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes as I fought to adjust to his size. My throat burned with each shallow breath through my nose, but the look in his eyes—the raw hunger and approval—made me want to push harder… to please him.

My hand trembled where it gripped his thigh for balance as I swallowed around him again, taking just a little more this time until he hit the back of my throat while stroking what I couldn’t reach with the other hand.

He groaned, deep and guttural like it was being ripped from somewhere primal inside him. "Perfect," he rasped out between clenched teeth; the hand still tangled in my hair guiding me as his hips started rocking against my face. "Fucking perfect."

I whimpered around his cock at the praise, the vibrations making him shudder. My throat fluttered wildly as I fought to relax but all I could focus on was him, the salt-sweet taste flooding my tongue with every bob of my head. Tears spilled freely down my cheeks now, smearing the kohl around my eyes in dark streaks as he rocked deeper into the wet heat of my throat.

The hand in my hair tightened—almost desperately—as he started to lose whatever control he had left. Every muscle in his body went taut, trembling like he was about to snap and just when I felt the first stirrings of his impending release, he pulled me off his cock with an obscene noise, bent, grabbed my arms and yanked me to my feet with a growl.

His face was flushed and a muscle in his jaw was ticking feverishly as he spun me around and pressed my front against the cool wood of the desk. I gasped when my hands hit the surface then he distracted me by dragging the thick head of his cock through my soaked folds, teasing me. "Say it," he ordered, voice rough as gravel. "Who do you belong to?"

My breath came in ragged pants, my body shaking so hard I could barely stand. "Y-you," I whimpered, my voice broken and desperate as I fought to keep from rocking my ass back to take his cock inside me. "You—ahhh!"

He slammed into me into one brutal thrust, stealing the breath from my lungs and the words from my lips as he filled me... deeper, rougher than I could remember ever being filled before. His fingers bit into my hips as he pulled me back against him, every movement rough, punishing.

A low, strangled moan tore from my throat as I clawed at the desk for something to hold onto, but everything was out of reach so I dug my fingernails into the shiny surface and held on as my thighs trembled and my pussy fluttered around his hard length, "Caleb! T-too much, I can't—"

"You can," he growled, one hand winding in my braided hair and yanking my head back until I was forced to arch back against his chest. His mouth moved over the sensitive skin at my throat… my shoulder… teeth sinking into the muscle hard enough to make me hiss. The hand on my hip tightened then he whispered in my ear, "Is my cock too much? Do you think I should stop?"

The words were like a jolt of lightning through my body, making every nerve ending come alive. "No," I gasped out, my words strangled and garbled. "Please, don't stop. I need you… please, Caleb, please-"

He let out a sharp growl, his free hand sliding up my side, over my chest and up my neck, fingers brushing against the sensitive underside of my jaw as he forced my head further back until I was looking up at him over my shoulder. "That's right," he murmured, lips hovering over mine. "You need me. No one else. Never anyone else."

I nodded frantically, tears spilling down my cheeks as his grip shifted from my neck to my breast. He tweaked my nipple, rolling the tight bud between his fingers as his movements inside me slowed to an almost agonizing pace as if he was waiting for my verbal answer before he would give me what I needed.

"N-No one else," I sobbed, the truth of it burning through every lie I'd ever told myself.

His eyes darkened with something feral at my surrender before he crushed his mouth to mine in a kiss that felt more like a claim than anything else. And then he started moving—harder, faster, deeper—every thrust punctuated by the sharp slap of skin against skin and the choked-off sounds tearing from my throat.

When he finally broke the kiss for air, I gasped weakly but all I got was another sharp thrust that made stars burst behind my eyelids.

"Open your eyes," he demanded darkly.

I obeyed instantly, forcing my lids open to meet his… violet and burning with something unhinged. My vision was blurred from the tears, but I saw it all—the way his jaw clenched as he watched me, the sweat-slicked muscle of his chest rising and falling too fast.

"You look at me while I’m inside you," he growled when my lashes fluttered dangerously close to shutting again. One hand slid up my body, fingers dragging a possessive path over my trembling stomach, gripping one breast in his large palm briefly before wrapping around my throat.

The desk creaked ominously beneath us as he bent over me, forcing me to lay flat with my ass in the air and his sweat-slick chest pressed against my back while that wicked mouth found the shell of my ear and growled, "Come for me."

It wasn't a request—it was an order laced with dark promise.

And Gods help me... I obeyed instantly.

My body seized, a white-hot explosion tearing through every nerve ending until all I could do was sob out his name over and over like some desperate prayer as my pussy spasmed around his thick cock and my hips stuttered against his.

He didn’t let up for even a second; if anything he fucked into me harder as he chased his release until finally with guttural groan that sounded ripped straight from hell itself… his cock pulsed, hot come soaking my insides then sliding out to drip down my thighs when he pulled out and shoved back in one last time.

He buried his face in the sweaty skin of my shoulder as we both gasped for air and I felt his body trembling before he finally let go of my throat and wrapped his arms around my waist to keep me from collapsing as he pulled me upright. "You think this is over?" His voice was rougher than gravel now—a warning laced through that sentence that made my stomach flip. "I’ve been without you for eighty years, Zaya, I’m nowhere near done with you."

I whimpered when one hand slid up to cup my breast, thumb flicking over my nipple until it peaked while the other hand trailed down between us… dipping lower between my thighs where I could feel his cock still hard inside me. A sharp cry left me when two fingers pushed against my clit without warning.

"C-Caleb! N-No more…"

"Sshh," he whispered as he spun us so his ass was resting against the edge of his desk with an arm around my waist so I was trapped against him while still impaled on his cock. "You can give me a little more. I know you have a little more for me."

I could feel the heat radiating from his bare chest as it pressed against my back, the hard muscles of his abdomen flexing with every slow roll of his hips. His fingers continued their merciless teasing between my thighs, alternating between firm circles on my swollen clit and rough drags where we were connected that made me jerk in his lap.

"Caleb—please," I begged again, though this time it came out more broken than pleading. My body was still oversensitive from the last orgasm he'd wrung from me; tiny aftershocks fluttering through me whenever he moved just right inside me, but my body and mind wanted more. More… more… more.

"What are you begging for?" he murmured. "Are you begging me to stop?"

I whimpered, my head falling back against his shoulder. "I—I don't know, I can't tell anymore," I whispered, my hands reaching down to grip his thighs so I could press my ass back against him.

He chuckled, the hand on my hip sliding up to my throat. "So sensitive," he murmured. "You think I'm being too rough with you?"

I shook my head. "N-No, that's not it… y-you just feel so—" I struggled for the right word. "Intense. You're being so intense, I can't think straight. I-ah!"

My voice cracked as he suddenly pinched my nipple, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure straight to my oversensitive pussy. I clenched around him, which only made his grip tighten further.

"Can’t think straight?" he repeated, his voice dropping into something dangerously low. His fingers tightened around my nipple—just shy of painful—as he ground his hips up into me with a slow, deliberate roll that made my breath hitch. "Hmm… good."

Before I could even process his words, he pulled his cock out of me and lowered me to the floor on my hands and knees with my ass in the air and my legs spread wide before he slammed back inside me to the hilt without warning.

A sharp, strangled cry tore from my throat, my body jerking violently as my fingers clawed at the floor, nails scraping against the polished wood as I fought to adjust to the new position.

"Look at you," he rasped, dragging almost completely out before slamming back in and setting a punishing pace—each snap of his hips punching ragged moans from my lips and sending shocks of white-hot pleasure straight through me until all I could do was shake and beg.

"Y-Yes! Oh yes!" I sobbed, my body convulsing as another orgasm ripped through me. My pussy clenched around his cock like a vice, milking him desperately as he chased his own release with deep, brutal thrusts.

"You take it so well," he muttered against the sweat-slicked skin of my shoulder before sinking his teeth in lightly. His movements stuttered before slowing completely then I felt his cock twitching inside me, hot spurts of come flooding my pussy as he came.

He growled, one hand sliding up to fist in the tangled strands of hair that had fallen from their braids. His free hand trailed down between us where we were still joined and smeared the wetness leaking out around his cock before pushing two fingers inside alongside his softening length just to make sure no more escaped.

A moment later, he pulled out of me and shifted us so I was laying on my back with my legs spread around his waist and his face hovering just above mine. He was close enough that I felt every breath across my face—felt the heat radiating from his body that made me shiver.

Before I could say anything, he was kissing me, his mouth as possessive and greedy as it had been the first time, stealing the words from my tongue before they could form.

I melted into the kiss, my body still trembling from the aftershocks of pleasure as his lips claimed mine. My hands came up to tangle in his dark hair, pulling him closer.

He broke away long enough to growl, "Mine," before diving back in with renewed energy. The word was rough with possession and something darker beneath it… something that made heat pool low in my belly all over again.

My breath hitched when I felt his softening cock twitch against my belly, already stirring back to life between us despite how thoroughly he'd just taken me. "C-Caleb..." His name spilled from swollen lips like a prayer and a warning combined.

He pulled back, his eyes burning into mine, the violet depths stormy with unspent hunger. "I won’t take you again tonight."

The words were more of a vow than a promise, but I still found myself whimpering at the thought of going back upstairs to my cold empty bed after having experienced what it was like to be in his arms. "Why not?" I whispered, my voice trembling slightly.

He was quiet for a moment, his gaze dropping down to my swollen lips then back up to my face. One of his hands stroked gently over my cheek, fingers trailing down my neck and across my jaw before his thumb swiped over my bottom lip.

"Because," he murmured, the word quiet and rough, "I don't think you could handle it."

My breath hitched at the blunt truth in his words. "Okay," I whispered then looked away as a tear escaped down my cheek.

"Don't," he murmured, the rough edge to his voice softening slightly. "Don't look away. You know I don't like that."

I swallowed hard, blinking back another tear as I forced myself to look back up at him, my eyes meeting his steady gaze.

He studied my face for a moment before he let out a long breath and leaned forward so his forehead rested against mine. "Why are you crying?" he whispered, his eyes closed.

"Because," I whispered back, hating the way my voice wavered. "I want you to hold me… I want to sleep beside you but-"

He cut me off with a kiss, his lips moving against mine before he pulled back, "Shut up."

I swallowed hard, my hands trembling as I lifted them to grip his arms to keep him in place. "But I don't want to go back to my room. I want—"

He shushed me gently, his hand cupping my chin to tilt my face up so I was looking at him. "What did I just say?"

I bit my lip, feeling a fresh wave of tears well up as I stared at him. "Y-You told me to shut up," I murmured, the words shaky with vulnerability.

He let out an exasperated sigh and got to his feet before pulling me up and yanking me against his chest in one rough motion. His arms locked around me like steel bands, trapping my face in the crook of his neck where sweat still clung to his warm skin and the scent of whiskey mixed with something uniquely him.

"You’re not going back to your room," he muttered into my hair, voice gravelly but firm enough that it brooked no argument. "Ever." A pause as if daring me to protest before adding gruffly, "Now stop crying, sweet girl."

As his words sank in, a wave of relief washed over me, quickly followed by a rush of fear and uncertainty. Did he mean I would be going to another room? His room? Or was he done with me and something was going to happen to me?

"What do you mean, ever?" I whispered into the damp skin of his neck, my fingers gripping his arms a little tighter.

He let out a low growl, pulling me closer until every inch of our naked bodies was pressed together. I felt so small and fragile against his muscular frame, like a doll in the arms of a giant.

"I mean exactly what I said," he muttered, his breath warm against my ear. "You're not spending another night in some cold, lonely bed. You’ll spend the rest of our days in my bed… in my arms… where you belong."

I let out a tiny, startled gasp as he lifted me effortlessly—my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist while my arms clutched at his shoulders. His bare chest was warm against mine, the sweat-slicked skin making it hard to grip properly as he carried me out of his study, down a hallway I’d never been in before and into a huge bedroom.

The room was dimly lit by the moonlight filtering through large windows that overlooked the lotus pond. It was decorated in dark colors, with oak furniture and deep purple and green accents. There was a large fireplace built into the far wall with a comfortable-looking leather chair and a matching couch with a low coffee table in front of them.

The bed was massive, taking up nearly half of one side of the room with its king-size frame with a dark purple comforter, fluffy pillows and half a dozen throw pillows in various shades of green and gold. Beside it stood a massive oak dresser and a bedside table, both covered in various knick-knacks and pictures that I couldn’t see in the dark. There was a door leading off to an equally lavish bathroom and another door that probably led into a closet.

He didn’t set me down until we reached the bed—then promptly dropped me onto the cool silk with zero ceremony. I bounced slightly before scrambling further up the bed on trembling elbows as he crawled over me like a predator, one knee sinking into the mattress between my thighs as he caged me beneath him in an instant.

"Stay."

The word was said in a dark, gravelly voice that made me shiver with a combination of fear and desire. My eyes widened as I trembled beneath him, suddenly feeling far too vulnerable with nothing but air between us.

"What are you going to do?" I whispered, my voice barely audible even to my own ears.

The low light coming through the window cast shadows across his face, his features set in a feral expression that made my breath catch in my chest.

"I want to take you again but I’m not sure you can handle that right now," he growled, leaning down so our faces were just inches apart. "But for now… we’re going to sleep. In the morning… we will talk."

He didn't say anything else as he rolled off me onto his back, pulling me against his side a second later. My head ended up on his chest, just above his heart, and I lay still, listening to the faint but steady thump of it beneath my ear as he started running his fingers through my tangled hair.

We lay in silence, listening to the sound of each other breathing as the room around us slowly cooled. I could almost hear my own heart slowing to beat in time with his own, the fear draining slowly out of me with each pass of his fingers through my hair.

I could feel my eyelids getting heavier as exhaustion set in, the events of the night finally catching up to me. Just as I was on the edge of sleep, he let out a frustrated growl then his voice broke through the silence, gruff and rough, "Sit up."

I froze at the rough command, my heart suddenly racing and a lump forming in my throat. I swallowed hard before awkwardly pushing myself up, my body trembling. My skin prickled with uncertainty as I waited for whatever he was going to do, my mind racing with a thousand different possibilities, none of them good.

He sat up behind me a second later, the mattress shifting under his weight, and one of his large hands came up to rest on my shoulder, silently commanding me to stay still. The without a word, his hands went to my hair and he started to unwind the braids, extracting the white lace, ribbons and flowers and tossing them onto the floor.

I shivered as his fingers worked through the tangled strands, my silver hair unraveling around us in soft waves that fell over my shoulders and into my face. Each tug sent a jolt of sensation down my spine—too sharp to be gentle, but not enough to hurt.

"Caleb..." I whispered, unsure if I was protesting or pleading.

He didn’t answer… just tightened his grip on the chunk of hair in his grip slightly before loosening it again when he felt me tense. When the braids finally came undone completely and all the decorations were in a small pile on the floor, he let out an annoyed breath.

"You will not allow another to touch your hair ever again. Understood?" he muttered darkly while running one hand down the now-loosened mass.

"Yes," I whispered, my heart skipping a beat at his words. The way he was holding my hair… his hand sliding through the strands like he owned it… it sent a shiver down my spine because it was almost as if he was jealous? of the maid who had braided it. "I won't… never again."

He let out another rough exhale through his nose before dragging me back against him with one sharp tug on my unraveled hair, forcing me to arch into him slightly so he could press his lips against the side of my neck in something too possessive to be called just a kiss. "Good girl."

I whimpered at the words—the praise making me shiver even while his possessive tone made me want to squirm. I felt so vulnerable right now, so confused as to what in the hell was going on… caught between wanting to flee back to my lonely, cold room and wanting to melt into him. "Caleb… I…"

He cut me off with a soft shush, his hand tightening in my hair again just enough to send a spark of awareness through me. "Quiet," he growled against my skin before inhaling deeply. "Sleep now… talk later."

I let out a shaky breath and nodded weakly, my body growing limp in his arms while I focused on the steady beat of his heart against my back while he slowly ran his fingers through my hair. It was a small comfort in this strange and uncertain situation and I found myself clinging to that steady rhythm as I tried to quiet my rapidly swirling thoughts.

After a few minutes, his grip in my hair loosened and he shifted, pulling me with him until we were lying down again. This time, he pulled the comforter over us before wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me against his chest.

I closed my eyes and listened to his heartbeat as it began to slow, the steady thump-thump-thump almost like a lullaby. My head was spinning with a million questions and emotions, but right now… it was just too much to think about. So, I forced those thoughts away, focused on the feel of his skin against mine and the way the heat was slowly soaking from his body into mine.

For now… I would let this be enough. I would sleep… and tomorrow, we could talk.