Page 25 of Retaliation

She was his everything in that moment, her body, her soul, every inch of her laid bare before him. He wanted to claim her, to make her his in every possible way, to show her just how deeply he felt. With each movement, he poured his heart into her, his desire, his longing, his unspoken words.

And she met him with equal fervor, her body arching into his, her voice a symphony of need. They moved together, a seamless blend of passion and tenderness, pushing each other higher, deeper, until the world outside ceased to exist.

A moan from her reverberated through his whole body, and he pulled out in a slow, torturous movement. Her nails dug into his back, drawing a roar of pleasure from deep within his chest. He plunged back in, burying himself in her wet heat, her walls clamping down on him like a vice.

“Oh, god,” she moaned into his ear, her voice a symphony of need, driving him wild. He picked up the pace, thrusting faster, harder, deeper, each movement a testament to his desire. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her body arching to meet his, and he could feel her building toward release.

Again and again, he drove into her, their bodies moving in perfect harmony. Her moans became cries of pleasure, and he could see the ecstasy in her eyes as she threw her head back, her eyes rolling with bliss. He kept his rhythm, pushing her, until she shuddered beneath him, her orgasm crashing over her like a wave.

He slowed, waiting for her to catch her breath, his hand tenderly wiping a midnight strand of hair away from her face. She was beyond beautiful, her hair forming a dark halo on his pillow, her lipstick smeared to the point of almost nonexistent. Those emerald green eyes never left his, holding him captive in their depths.

At that moment, he knew he was lost. She had come out of nowhere and completely knocked him out, breaking through every barrier he had ever erected. The thought alone pushed him to the brink, and he filled her again, maintaining his rhythm as he edged closer to his own release. But he wasn’t ready to let go until he made sure she joined him over the edge once more.

He felt her tighten around him, her body responding to his every move. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, her breath hot against his neck, and he knew she was close. With a few more powerful thrusts, he pushed her over the edge, her body convulsing around him, pulling him into her ecstasy.

When he finally let go, it was with a shuddering release, his body tensing before collapsing against hers. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, breathing in her scent, his heart pounding in time with hers. She held him close, her fingers threading through his hair, her touch a balm to his soul.

In her arms, in her heart, he had found everything he had ever wanted, everything he would ever need. The world outside ceased to exist, leaving only the two of them, entwined in a moment of pure, unadulterated bliss.

He knew, without a doubt, that this was home.

She was his home.

EIGHT

Poison woke to the first light of dawn seeping through the tall windows, casting a soft glow across the room. She stretched, the lingering soreness in her body a reminder of the night before. When she closed her eyes again, she could almost feel Scorpion’s touch, the heat of his hands on her skin, the way he had ignited a fire deep within her.

But when she turned over, she jolted upright. The space beside her was empty. Her eyes scanned the apartment, taking in the exposed brick walls, the bookshelves filled with books and trinkets.

Rising from the bed, she stared down at her completely naked body and began searching for her clothes. The memory of Scorpion tearing her blouse apart made her smile. Instead, she found his shirt on the floor and slipped it over her head, the fabric still carrying his scent.

She took a moment to take in the apartment. From the outside, and even from within, she would never have guessed that the top floor held such refined luxury. The sleek lines of the stainless-steel kitchenette perfectly complemented the industrial vibe of concrete and exposed brick.

Her attention wandered to the bookshelves, where she let her fingers glide over the spines of the books. But something else caught her eye—tiny rainbows reflected in the light. Perched atop a couple of leather-bound volumes was a crystal skull, its crown artfully cracked open, with a black glass lotus flower blooming from within. A scorpion, etched with precision, adorned the forehead.

She trailed a nail along the smooth curve of the scorpion’s tail, over the lotus and the skull, noting how the intricate details mirrored the tattoo on Scorpion’s throat. Her hand instinctively moved to her own neck, recalling the kisses she had pressed against the ink on his skin.

Fuck, she was wet all over again.

She made her way to the small bathroom, but he wasn’t there either. She considered going to look for him, but the enormity of the factory would make it difficult to know where to even begin her search. Maybe the roof? If

he was there without her, he most likely wanted to spend the time alone. He would come back when he was ready.

She tried not to overthink it, but the voices in her mind started murmuring, and so did her stomach. Its growling echoed through the open apartment. Laughing at herself, she walked to the kitchenette and began brewing a fresh pot of coffee.

Reaching to retrieve a mug from a shelf above the counter, she heard a slow whistle from behind her. Spinning around and pulling the shirt that had pulled up over her ass back down, she found Scorpion leaning against the doorframe, hands behind his back.

“Good morning,” she said, flustered. “Sorry, I made myself at home and made some coffee.”

“Please don’t stop on my behalf. The show is worthy of a standing ovation.”

His devilish smile was infectious, and she tried not to squirm under his gaze or look at his crotch.

“You want a cup?” she offered, trying to hide the blush staining her cheeks.

He responded with a slow nod, and she turned to get another mug. She picked the one on the highest shelf, the shirt pulling up ever so slightly over her bare ass. If it was a show he wanted, it was a show she’d give him.

Turning back, she half expected to see him still lingering by the door, but instead, he was right behind her. The sudden closeness made her heart skip a beat—how did he move so quietly? He held out two paper bags, and for the first time, she saw his confidence waver. His smile faltered, his eyes dropping to the floor before he raised one of the bags slightly.

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