Page 23 of Ashfall
The only sound through the eerie silence is the crunching of my heels through the gravel driveway, piercing through the pre-evening lull as I approach the pale stone stairs. Noc’s house isn’t huge, but it’s hardly modest. It sits tucked away in a tree lined street, wrapped in a fortress of wrought iron bars and concrete walls. The amber glow from within is the only warmth that radiates from the cold exterior. I pause just before the large wooden door, taking in the sight. The weathered stone walls stand out against the darkening sky, the storm brewing in the distance. The arched doorway and black angular window frames add a chill to the air with their gothic vibes. The three-story home towers above me, its roof jutting out in sharp peaks, standing fierce and unyielding – just like its owner.
I reach for the door, ready to knock, when I notice the intercom tucked discreetly to the right, a security camera perched above. Keeping a vigilant eye on anyone daring enough to step inside what might well be the closest thing to hell on earth - especially after what I’m about to do. There it is, the unease creeping over my skin, raising goosebumps. A mixture of nerves, anticipation, and the slow, bitter seep of betrayal. No.He’s the one who betrayed me, lied to me, hid himself for so long. Letting the world believe he was dead, when in truth, he had shaken hands with the devil and walked willingly into the flames of the underworld. I take a slow, steady breath, forcing my spine straight, letting cold resolve smother any lingering weakness. I can wear a mask, too.
I smooth down my black satin gown, its floor-length fabric stopping just above my black heels. A daring split runs all the way up my left leg, exposing skin with every movement. As I press the intercom, the response is instant. “You're late, Brodie.” His midnight-toned voice cuts through the silence, wrapping around me in a way that makes my thighs clench involuntarily. Damn him. I steady myself, forcing air back into my lungs. “Maybe if you chopped down a tree or two, I wouldn’t have spent half the night searching for this place.” I try to match the velvet richness of his voice, slipping into the game I need to play. If I falter - even for a second - he’ll know something’s wrong. “Come in. I'm in my office.” The intercom goes dead. A soft click sounds - the door unlocking.This is it.
My hand presses against the cool surface, pushing it open to reveal a moody hallway. The dark wooden floor stretches beneath me, their polished sheen a shade darker than the wooden paneling lining the walls. The place gives off an old-money elegance wrapped with heavy secrets. My heels echo as I move towards the staircase, the grand steps climbing the left-hand wall, its ascent partially hidden by a massive black chandelier. The walls are all bare, no artwork or family portraits. Nothing to betray the mystery of the man who lurks in this house.
A door opens to my left into a library, and to my right, a seating area peeks out. The oversized television mounted in the center of the wall, and a black velvet sofa seeping into my peripheral vision. My gaze shifts to the final door straight ahead;it’s the only one closed. Just as I approach, it swings open. A small, older woman bursts out, adjusting her polka dot raincoat and securing a plastic rain net over her head. “Ah, Miss Voss. Mr Morozov is waiting for you in his office.” She says with a warm smile, her thick Russian accent curling around me.
My curiosity flickers. Is she family, or something else? Then I spot the vacuum she swiftly tucks into the cupboard beneath the stairs. A cleaner? Servants? The idea of Noc employing house staff almost makes me scoff. She turns back to me. “His office is the last room on the left. Forgive me for not showing you myself. I’m hoping to make it home before the rain begins.” Her tight smile is brief before she rushes toward the front door, disappearing into the night. Through the open doorway, I glimpse the pale stone concrete outside, the first drops of rain darkening its surface like scattered ink.
I turn and head up the stairs, my fingertips grazing the sleek black marble banister - this place must have cost a fortune, even if it’s rented. But of course, it suits Noc perfectly, and I hear crime pays well. I make my way toward his office, the low light from within spilling out beneath the door. Just as I reach for the handle, my gaze shifts to the end of the hall, where a towering floor-to-ceiling window stands. I step toward it, taking in the view - since I'll likely never set foot in this house again. Beyond the glass, the garden stretches out to the imposing concrete walls. The towering trees lining at the perimeter offer absolute privacy, shielding the house from neighboring eyes. A hidden fortress for a man who thrives in secrets and shadows.
I turn back and find myself face-to-face with another wall. Only this time, it's made of muscle, clad in a black tailored suit and smells like spicy sins. Noc’s hands catch my arms, steadying me. “Did I just catch you sneaking around, Brodie?” His smirk is pure mischief, his storm-colored eyes glinting with amusement- mirroring the thunder beginning to rumble above us. “I wasadmiring your garden, thank you very much.” I say smoothly, stepping out of his hold.Keep it together, Nyx.
Noc follows me into his office, settling into the chair behind his desk. He leans back, eyes slowly roaming over me, devouring every inch. My breath hitches - I’m not used to this kind of attention anymore. And when I did crave it, it was only ever from him. Now, here it is. Right when fate has handed us the worst possible outcome. If only we could rewind. If only we could change it all.
“Take a seat.” He gestures toward the large double armchairs in front of his desk, his voice low, and measured. “I just need to finish up here, then we can go.” I sink into the chair deliberately slowly, testing him. “Oh, so technically I’m not the one making us late?” I cross my left leg over the other, the high slit of my dress exposing skin in a deliberate flash - almost like a Sharon Stone moment. I want him distracted. His eyes darken, locked onto me, admiring the glimpse I’ve offered him.
I feel the heat in his gaze, the burn of it pressing into my skin. His lips part, teeth grazing his lower lip briefly before his gaze lifts back to mine. I overdid the makeup tonight, but that was intentional too - smokey brown eyeshadow, fierce eyeliner sharp enough to cut, making my green eyes more intense. My lips, a subtle nude pink, ensuring all attention stays on my eyes - my weapon. My hair falls in dark, messy waves around me. I’m a vision of sultry intention. And he sees it.
Noc doesn’t even acknowledge my question, his gaze burning straight into my soul. “You look breathtaking, Brodie.” His words steal my breath, and I try to regain my cool. “You clean up not so bad yourself, Noc.” I let my eyes rake over him, but my gaze ends up dragging him over, stirring an unawakened hunger in me. I shouldn’t have done that. His black suit molds to every single inch of his frame, looking a second away from tearing under the strain of his broad chest. His smile is spellbinding,and for a moment, his eyes look like they’re in a battle – wrestling with whether to give in to our pull or look away. Eventually, he does, shifting his focus on his computer. The tension in the air thickens around us.
My phone vibrates in my purse, and I pull it out to see its Hawk. The taxi is parked a few streets away and can be with us within ten minutes. It'll head to the restaurant I've picked out - he managed to haggle with the person on the phone to book out a room up the stairs on our own. The rest of the guys will be strategically placed throughout the venue, ready to be called in when I give the signal.
“Ready to go?” I ask, stuffing the device back in my purse as he stands, moving around the desk with that deliberate, predatory grace. I watch him approach as I stand, my breath hitching slightly when I tilt my head back to meet his eyes.
“Our first date. Are you nervous?” he asks, and if that isn’t the most double-barreled question I’ve ever heard. I struggle down a swallow, losing myself in the storm of his gaze, and whisper, “No.” His hand lifts, fingers curling around my neck, gentle yet firm. His thumb skims the underside of my jaw, trailing down the center of my throat before applying the slightest pressure.
Heat erupts beneath my skin, my pulse spiking. My body moves of its own accord, hands sliding from his torso up to his chest, my fingertips tracing the rigid muscle beneath his suit. The strong, independent woman inside me is furiously rolling her eyes, screaming something about morals, that I've fallen prisoner so quickly to his charm, but the demon inside quickly shoves her away. She knows the game we need to play here.
His other hand glides down to caress the exposed flesh of my thigh, and instinctively, my leg wraps around him, as if on autopilot. He grips underneath, trailing his fingers up the curves, holding me firmly, and I can’t help but gasp at thesudden rush of sensation when he squeezes. A low growl of appreciation rumbles from deep within him as his gaze locks onto my lips. “It would be quite bad etiquette for me to fuck you on the first date, Malyshka,” he murmurs, and damn him, I can feel my carefully laid plans slipping away. But at this moment, with just the two of us, I find I don’t care.
“I've never seen you as a gentleman, Noc,” I reply, my voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside me. As much as it feels so, so wrong, I need to earnhistrust. Need him to fall into my spiderweb of a trap, unleash the black widow at the precise moment.
I rush forward, our lips colliding in a fierce battle of wills. He leans down, gripping my other thigh, I wrap both legs around him, our mouths never breaking contact. He holds me close as he drops me on his desk, and in a moment of recklessness, I sweep all his belongings to the floor. He seems just as lost in the heat of the moment as I am, his hands snaking up to my waist. “This dress on you is going to be my undoing,” he breathes. “I quite believe you've done it on purpose, you always were a devilish little thing.” And though that was my intention all along, I didn’t expect I’d get swept away like this as well. My bitterness can't seem to penetrate its way into my veins, his shadows have well and truly got me in a vice.
“What are you going to do about it?” I challenge. My voice is unrecognizable, low and husky, as if I’ve stepped into a role I never knew I could play.
He gives me a smile that would knock me off balance if I were on my feet - one I’ve prayed to see again someday, then wished I'd never fallen victim to at all. It’s bittersweet, knowing I may never experience it again, but I push those thoughts aside, selfishly indulging my need for him one last time before I deliver my revenge. “What I’m going to do to you, Malyshka, is fuck you like I hate you.” A startled squeal escapes me as he grips myhips with such force that my dress falls to the sides, leaving me completely exposed to him.
“But before I have you screaming out to a God who won’t hear you, I need you to know that my feelings for you are quite the opposite. I’ve loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you, and these four years without you have been the hardest sacrifice I’ve ever endured, Brodie.” I stare up at him, wide-eyed, my battered heart feeling as if it's finally given out, time itself ceasing to exist. He has no idea how long I’ve longed to hear those words, believing I was the only one of us who loved.
It’s all too much, it unravels every thread within me at an eye watering pace. Before I can let the tears form in my eyes, he’s on me. We become a tangle of limbs as I tug his jacket off, throwing it to the floor. My hands scramble at his belt, fumbling to undo it before shoving his suit pants down his legs. His hands find the zipper on the back of my dress, pulling it down until it pools at my waist, exposing my breasts to him.
Before I can even let the next unwanted thought cross my mind, my eyes roll back as a moan escapes me when he pushes inside me, struggling to accommodate his size after all this time. I’m not given a moment to adjust, to savor the bliss; he begins to thrust hard, his hands gripping my throat while my leg is lifted over his forearm, his fingers digging into the top of my thigh as if he’s holding onto a lifeline. My hand slaps against the desk for support while the other clings to his shoulder, as if needing that connection to reassure me this is real and I haven’t slipped back into one of my torturous dreams, fabricating scenarios in my sleep.
He hits that sweet spot deep inside me, his thrusts growing more intense, and I find myself gasping for breath, the desk beneath us creaking with the force of his hips. I shift to get a better grip, but my hand slips on a stray piece of paper, and suddenly I’m falling onto my back. But Noc never loses hisrhythm, oh my God, he’s even deeper now. The sensation coils tightly in my lower stomach as he keeps his promise, drawing screams from me to a God who’s never heard my pleas. Yet, at this moment, I think I could challenge that notion because here we are, together - everything I’ve ever asked them for.
“Oh my God, Lev.” I moan, my hands gripping my breasts, teasing the peaks and heightening the sheer ecstasy coursing through me. “Fuck, Brodie,” he groans, tightening his grip on my waist as he slides out of me just enough to bring my ass to the edge of the desk, lifting my leg to throw it over his shoulder. He trails kisses up my calf to my ankle, teasing along the exposed arch of my foot in my heels, slowing his pace to a toe-curling rhythm. “I think my new favorite thing is fucking you with these heels on, especially with this anklet,” he murmurs, nipping at the soft skin of my foot, making me cry out. Shit, I hope he doesn't press the alarm on it, I couldn't be found in a more compromising position.
He clutches my thigh, pulling me tight against him, while his other hand grips my waist again - fucking me like a madman. My orgasm hits me like a jolt of electricity, frying any remaining function in my brain. We're both lost in the clutches of lust, both of us with a hidden agenda but right now, giving into the temptations as the room fills with his heavy breathing and my moans of absolute pleasure. Like he can't get enough, he grabs my hands and pulls me up, my legs like jelly, still trying to deal with the earth-shattering orgasm I've had, the first in so long, and one only he can give me. He spins me, hand on my back as he pushes me over the desk, throwing the scraps of my dress skirt over the side. My arms are fighting their own battle of strength to get me up, but he thrusts back into me with force and all I can do is cry his name. He kicks my feet apart, making me sink further into the desk as he continues a grueling rhythm.
I'm panting like a pathetic fool as I manage to get my limbs working, snaking my hand to in-between my thighs, thrumming the sensitive bundle of nerves, because one orgasm wasn't enough. And I'm so far gone at this point, I’ve lost sight of what I came here for, I'm lost to the complete trance of him and what he does to my mind and body. His hand wraps around my hair and I'm yanked flush to his body as he stops his pace, a whimper leaving my lips as the loss of friction, making me wriggle in impatience. He throws my hair over my shoulder as his mouth traces kisses up my neck to my ear, his voice is laced with hunger “If you're going to touch yourself Brodie, I want your eyes on me when you cum.”
Following his command, my eyes snap open as my reflection catches in the window behind his desk. Outside, the storm rages in muted fury, shrouding the world in darkness. The dim glow of the floor lamp is the room’s only light, casting soft illumination that sharpens our mirrored forms, it’s almost like looking into a mirrored surface. His unrelenting gaze pierces through our breathing as he watches me. His hand reaches up, forming my favorite kind of necklace in a silent warning to continue, and I’m never one to back down. I regain my momentum in slow, tormenting circles, wetness coating my fingers as I shiver beneath his grip, eyes never leaving him as his breathing catches, like he's fighting to get the air into his lungs. My fingers increase their pace, along with my own breathing, I throw my head against his chest, but never break eye contact - my own challenge back to him.
He too decides he's not losing this one, he pushes back into me so slowly, but oh so deeply. His free hand gripping my hip to meet his pace as he tugs me to meet every stride. He places wet, careless kisses along my neck and shoulder. “Beautiful,” he whispers right against that sensitive spot that ripples goosebumps along my exposed skin. My core coils again, readyto snap at any given moment as I’m moaning out his name, fighting to keep my eyes locked with his as they threaten to roll to the back of my head.
