She wanted to shove him away, scream at him, demand why he always came back just when she was learning to breathe without him. But her body betrayed her—caught in that unbearable space between resistance and memory. Between the ache of what he’d done and the ghost of what they used to be.
Her wrists strained against the makeshift tie above her head, her muscles tense.
He pulled back slowly, as if letting go of something sacred. His gaze traced every detail of her face—the curve of her lashes, the faint tremble in her lips, the distance still burning in her eyes. Then, gently, he lowered his head and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
When his mouth finally found hers again, there was no hunger.
Just quiet desperation.
His lips moved against hers slowly, tenderly, memorizing her warmth in case she slipped away again.
His hand cupped her face with care, the pad of his thumb brushing her cheek in trembling strokes. The other drifted down, pausing at her collarbone, then hesitating before tracing the soft curve of her chest.
Their foreheads touched, breaths mingling in the stillness between them.
His voice cracked, raw and barely held together. “I didn’t realize how much I hurt you.”
His eyes burned into hers—dark, wild, and full of torment. His fingers rubbed over her chest with growing urgency, circling her nipples until they peaked under his touch. He was shaking.
“I shouldn’t have done that to you,” he rasped, his face hovering inches from hers, voice hoarse, heavy with regret. “I won’t do it again. I swear—I won’t leave you. I won’t make you sad ever again.” His breath hitched as his lips nearly touched hers. “Won’t you give me just one chance? Just one.”
But she said nothing. Her silence was a knife, and it made him lose the last thread of control.
“Say something,” he breathed, but when she turned her face away—cold, silent—something in him snapped.
His mouth crashed against her neck, kissing her roughly, teeth grazing her skin as he dragged his tongue along the edge of her throat. His hands were everywhere, gripping her thighs, her waist, her hips, pulling her to him like she was the only thing keeping him alive.
She gasped as he bit down lightly near her collarbone, the sharp sting followed by his tongue soothing over the mark. “You can hate me,” he growled against her skin. “But you’re still mine.”
She pushed at him, her voice strained. “Let me go—”
But he was already between her thighs, dragging her legs apart with a growl that sounded half-mad. He didn’t pause. Didn’t ask again.
His mouth was on her, hot and restless, tongue flicking and pressing in desperate strokes. She cried out, hips jerking, but his hands gripped her thighs, keeping her open, locked in place.
He licked her like a man starving, like he needed her taste to breathe. Rough, fast, raw.
“Again,” he growled against her, his voice wrecked. “I want to feel you fall apart for me. Don’t hold back.”
“Oh god…” She tried to twist away, but her body betrayed her, arching into him, shuddering as heat exploded in her core, helpless to the storm he was dragging her through. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her thighs trembling as he pushed her over the edge.
He groaned against her, the sound low and guttural, vibrating through her as his mouth stayed locked on her clit. His tongue moved with ruthless precision—flicking, circling, dragging over her sensitive flesh again and again until her legs clenched around his head.
“Hahhh…” she could barely breathe.
“More,” he rasped between licks, his voice wrecked with need. “You’re not done. Not until I say you are.”
“Ahhh…” She cried out, hips jerking, body twitching beneath the relentless rhythm of his mouth. Every flick of his tongue sent lightning shooting through her veins. She clawed at the sheets, desperate for something to hold onto, anything to ground her as he dragged her back into the fire.
And still, he didn’t let up.
He shifted, angling his mouth deeper, licking her in long, fast strokes, then flicking sharply until her back arched off the bed, another orgasm crashing through her like a wave.
“A.. hhhh… hahh!” She sobbed, barely able to breathe, her body shaking uncontrollably.
But he only moaned against her, drunk on her taste, on her reactions, on the way she shattered for him. He licked her through the aftershocks, refusing to stop until she was whimpering, trembling from the overload.
Then he eased up just slightly, tongue slower now, but just enough to tease her, to keep her hovering on the edge, never letting her fall completely. His fingers dug into her thighs to hold her still, lips sealing around her clit as he sucked again. Hard, deep, possessive.