Page 14 of Ashfall
In one swift motion, he lifts me, and instinct takes over as I wrap my legs around his waist, letting myself fall into the moment, into him. Our mouths collide, a breathless tangle of wild, consuming kisses. My fingers thread through his hair, tugging at the short ends, and he moans into the kiss, his grip tightening around my ass. With effortless control, he moves, walking us toward the sofa in the corner, lowering himself with practiced ease, never once breaking out contact. With a swift tug, he shifts me up, his fingers deftly working the belt loose in one versed motion. I rise onto my knees, moving with him, my hands sliding down to help him shed the barrier between us.
He fists the material of his shirt, tugging it over his head in one smooth motion, messing up his already unruly hair. Somehow, that only makes him look more appealing. There's something about the way he moves, so effortless, and the way his muscles flex beneath his inked skin.
God, why is that so hot?
His hands tighten around my throat again, and then we’re crashing together. We’re a clash of tongues and teeth, battlingwith breaths and need. The air around us feels electric, charged with the raw and consuming sparks between us. If there were a naked flame nearby, it would ignite this whole room.
“Fuck me, Malyshka.” The way he says that name in the heat of the moment, his usual bad-boy roughness melting into pure Russian bliss by the time he reaches the last word, it’s my undoing. Heat coils through me, sharp and undeniable. My hand moves between us, and I wrap my fingers around his thick silky length. He holds still while I guide his head to my entrance. He knows there’s no foreplay needed in these moments. I’m already slick and ready for it the moment our eyes locked in the mirror. I let out a moan as I roll my head back, my body tingles all over as he pushes up to slide inside, inch by inch, stretching and filling me.
My movements start torturously slow, up and down his dick. I tilt my head forward to meet his intense, stormy gaze. His arms fanned out along the back of the sofa, radiating masculinity and stirring the need in me. In my moment of distraction, his impatience pushes through his hips as he thrusts hard to meet mine, causing me to gasp as he hits my cervix. I place my hands on his shoulders and start to move in quick, unsteady bounces. The only sounds filling the air are our breathless gasps and the rhythmic slap of skin against skin.
“Oh, God.” I moan, my pace quickening as he meets my rhythm, the tension swirling in my core threatening to whisk me away with it. His hands roam from my thighs, drawing heat as they scorch their way over my breasts, before clamping over my neck. His fingers tease the pressure on each side, my breathing already constricting as the vision in my eyes slowly starts to blur. And just when I hover on the edge of nearing a black out, his hands snap away, the air rushing back to me as my body feels almost limp, the only sign I'm still present are the wicked strokes he punishes me with whilst my hands grip onto him for stability.
He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me closer, and then he becomes primal, the intensity of his thrusts smearing my vision with tears of pleasure. I cry out as the first wave crashes into me, vision blurred, stars flickering at the edges as the sheer intensity threatens to consume me. The pleasure is so raw, so immense, teetered on the brink of something almost too powerful to bear, leaving me breathless in its wake. There’s no time to savor the lingering warmth of bliss. Before I can pull oxygen back in, he flips me effortlessly, turning me so that I find myself on all fours at the edge of the sofa. I throw my hands out, grasping the sofa’s arms to steady myself, the rush of movement making my head spin as I dwell in the aftermath.
Noc wastes no time, driving into me from behind as I scream his name into a pillow. With powerful thrusts, he grips my loose hair, arching my head back toward the ceiling. The sensation is overwhelming, and I can feel that coiling heat in my lower stomach building up again. He tugs my hair back with force. I've no choice but to move with it so I’m flush with the heat of his body. He leans in close, his staggered breath warm against my neck. The faint scrape of his stubbled jaw brushes the damp curve of my cheek, sending a shiver through me. “Come for me again, Brodie.” and his words have me crying out in another mind-shattering orgasm that leaves me trembling with exhaustion.
He groans behind me, and I feel him pulsing inside me as his thrusts grow lazier, eventually coming to a stop. He places a tender kiss on the side of my tear-soaked neck and whispers, “Good girl.” In that moment, my bones melt in his embrace as he slowly drags himself out of me.
I want to be bad, just so I can be redeemed as his good girl.
We lie tangled together on the sofa, its size barely accommodating his height, let alone the two of us pressed close.He places a tender kiss against my hair, pulling me deeper into his warmth.
My fingers drag lazily across his skin in the aftermath, tracing the dark inked lines of his tattoos, committing them to memory. It lingers on the edge of my lips – those three words my heart aches to say aloud. A confession that could change whatever we have between us into more or unstitch what little we already have. But I don’t say them. I never do. Instead, I clutch onto the warmth his presence brings me, pretending to myself that it's enough. Sleep pulls me under, and in the morning, he’ll be gone.
Just like always.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
nyx
PRESENT DAY
My knees instantly buckle from underneath me as the memory flashes through my mind, and he reaches out to me but instinct brought on by his betrayal has me shoving him with force against the wall. “You get the fuck away from me.” My teeth are clenched so hard I might crack my molars - I’m fucking seething at him. Every wall inside me starts to crumble to the ground, the foundations never strong to begin with, but at least I could rebuild them when I felt them weakening.
One look at him, and I literally can't find the strength to do it. “That’s no way to thank someone who just saved your life.” His voice is laced with amusement. Bastard.
“Save my life?” I scoff, fists tightening at my sides. “You ruined it, and you lied to me - about everything! You let me think you were fucking dead. But you've been here all along? Shackled up with the very threat you and I fought against.” I yell, my anger not even needing time to get kick started, as it soars over the shock and the temporary bliss the memory gave when I heard his voice, knocking it clean out of my system.
His laugh is dark, reverberating off the walls like a slow-moving thunder. But I don’t miss the flex of his jaw, like fleetingtension as he glances to the ground. He leans back effortlessly, settling against the wall with arms folded, legs crossed at the ankle. He’s projecting an image of utter nonchalance. Like this conversation barely registers as a concern to him, like seeing me after four years is nothing. And yet, in this moment, I finally see him, the real Nocturne. The one I wanted so hard not to believe in. The one I’ve dreaded acknowledging. The realization fractures something deep inside me.
“A necessary evil, Brodie. You're looking fucking great by the way. Better than I remember.” I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut, I falter and take another step to the side. Who the hell is this man? I steel myself as I truly let myself take him in; he's so vastly different to what I came to know andlove. I fear that maybe that guy did get to me, and I’m bleeding out on the floor right now - hallucinating.
My desperate eyes roll over him, dressed in black dress trousers, a white button up shirt and matching black waist coat – nothing how I remembered him. His inked hands I know so well - that I had let roam on every inch of my skin - stand stark against the pureness of his shirt. He looks to have had some new additions as I spy the swirl of ink poking out from the collar at his neck. His hair is trimmed sharp at the sides, leaving a messy tousled look on the top, his fringe just brushing the top of his forehead in styled curls.
He looks like a true Russian crime prince. The kind you swoon over in books but know that, in reality, they'll break your heart. Lucky for me, I already played this game four years ago.
“I don’t believe this, this isn't you. What the hell happened to you Lev? I feel like I don't even know you.” My voice strains as I bite back the tears, I can't allow another one to fall for him, not after the knowledge I’ve gained. Something inside him stirs at me saying his name - it was a slip of the tongue. His demeanor softens just a touch, a fleeting moment from the past that weboth shared. When he was Lev, not Nocturne, and I was Brodie. He doesn’t allow it to remain for long. I see the exact moment the darkness mists back over.
“There's a whole lotta things you don't know about, Brodie. If you're still as smart as I remember, you'll stay the fuck away.” And there it is, the moment that fully cracks my heart into something irreparable. I slap him across the face, and he allows it. He has the audacity to smirk at me as I go for another when he catches my wrist and throws me into the wall, grabbing my other hand and pinning them above my head. This is the worst position for me to be in, I’m so close to him I can smell that familiar scent of him: woody and smoky, mixed with spice. My body trembles. I used to bathe in his scent every morning after our nights spent together.
I force myself to shove him away, but all the fight in me is gone, intoxicated by his proximity. His grip tightens around my wrists, his breathing deep and almost erratic, like he's trying to calm himself. “Let me go,” I say, my voice deceiving me with a slight tremble in the bass. He stares at me, like a beast about to play with its meal. His thumb brushes over the jagged skin on the end of my wrist and he tenses; he doesn't even move an inch as his eyes drag from mine to my scar.
“Let me fucking go.” My words have his eyes snapping back to mine, reeling him back from whatever trance he was locked into, the storm inside them brewing wildly around the iris. He slowly releases the grip on my hands, and just as he lowers his own I take a swipe at his feet, pushing him down - but he takes me with him. I land on top of him, the force of the fall expelling the air in my lungs, or maybe it’s just the position I’m in with him. My knee readies to target his balls to get an advantage whilst my lungs refill, but he overpowers me, and I'm flipped and pinned underneath his enormous form.
Wetness coats my back, and my wig sticks to the ground as I remember the dead guy right next to us - his blood that’s spread out underneath us. I buck and push, sliding in the red liquid now coating my skin, trying anything to get him off but he's just so strong I can't get him to move - it’s like a concrete beam is trapped on top of me. “Brodie! Fucking stop.” I deflate against the ground as my name leaves his lips, like it was delivered wrapped in silk. My chest heaves as I’m pulled to stare into his eyes again. I really need to stop doing that.
He can completely disarm me with one look. Even after all this time, I’m weak for him. “Youleftme.” My throat is raw with emotion. I let the pain release from me, almost sounding like a caterwaul, turning my head to the wall, hoping if I don't look at him, he'll disappear, and this swell of familiar feeling and grief I’m biting back vanishes with him. If I can't see him, he won't see the tears forming in my eyes.
