Chapter 97
-Hailey-
When the third orgasm broke over me, no sound came out. The only noi convulsing, boneless and drenched.
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was a guttural growl from him as he left me
When my eyes finally stopped looking at my brain, my vision was spotty at the edges. If I’d had any soul left in me, it was
gone now.
With a final open–mouthed kiss against my oversensitive pussy, he finally let me go.
I scrambled back, breathing like I’d just run a marathon. My entire body was humming, every nerve ending screaming.
I collapsed against the pillows, utterly spent. The comforter was soaked beneath my legs.
The room spun slowly back into focus. The moon. 9
the rumpled bed, and him
now lying next to me, watching me
with dark, satisfied eyes. His own breathing was just as ragged as mine.
For a minute or two, we just lay there staring at each other. The frantic energy that he’d dragged me in here with had burned itself out, leaving a tired, contented look on his face.
“Before I shower…” His voice was a lazy rumble. Like he hadn’t just sucked the soul out of me.
He gestured to his leg. “Can you rewrap this thing for me? There’re some waterproof bandages in the bathroom cupboard.”
The casual request, so mundane after what he’d just done, turned me feral. A slow, defiant smile spread across my face.
“A soul for a soul,” I murmured under my breath, reaching toward him.
“What?”
“Of course,” I said firmly, still smiling.
I hooked my fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants, peeling them carefully down his thighs.
I could see the outline of his cock through his boxers. It was half hard, lying thick and heavy against his thigh.
I knelt next to him, tracing the line of the bandage with my fingertips. But then my touch drifted higher, along the inside of his thigh and up under his boxers, making him shiver.
I leaned down and pressed my lips to the skin just above the bandage. A soft, lingering kiss.
“Ace, no,” he muttered, reaching for my face. “I’m fuckin grimy
I shook my head, lightly smacking his hand away. “Shut up.”
I kept my eyes locked with his as I moved. I pulled him out through the fly of his boxers and took his length in my hand, feeling it throb at my touch.
I stroked him once, twice, then lowered my head and took him into my mouth.
He groaned, deep and ragged. His hands flew up to his head, tangling in his hair as I worked him.
I took him deep, burying him to the hilt. Then I pulled back slowly, savoring the musky taste of him. The way his body tensed and bucked under my touch.
I lost myself in the rhythm. In the power of reducing this violent man to a writhing, groaning mess.
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Sat, Jan
Chapter 97
But after a while, his hand came down. Not pushing me away, but tangling gently in my ponytail and tugging.
“Ace,” he rasped.
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I let him slip from my lips with a soft pop and looked up. He peeled off his hoodie and shirt, then gently tugged at mine to get me to do the same.
“C’mere,” he murmured, tugging me closer.
I crawled up his body, and then his mouth was
on mine
it sent heat spiraling down to my core.
a searing, desperate kiss. I could taste myself all over his lips, and
He kissed me like he was trying to fuse us together.
When he finally broke it, his eyes were dark with need. “Ride me he whispered.
Didn’t need to tell me twice. I straddled his hips and reached between us, guiding him. Then I sank down onto him in one slow, exquisite motion.
We both groaned at the feeling. A perfect, filling stretch. I braced my hands on his chest and started to move.
I set a slow, rolling rhythm, taking him deep with each downward stroke. His hands settled on my hips, just holding on. His eyes were closed, his head thrown back against the pillows as he lost himself to the sensation.
I leaned forward, changing the angle, and his eyes flew open as a sharp groan escaped him. He gripped my hips harder and started to meet my strokes with shallow, frantic thrusts of his own.
The pace became more desperate.
I could feel the tension coiling in me again, spurred on by the look of raw, utter possession on his face. It made me clench around him.
He suddenly held my hips still, pinning me down on him as he thrust up into me once, twice, three more times. Then a deep, guttural groan tore from his throat as he came inside me, throbbing.
I collapsed forward onto his chest, feeling the frantic beat of his heart against my
cheek.
We stayed that way for a few minutes. Then carefully, so carefully, I lifted myself off him, feeling the ache of my muscles and the cool air on my sweaty skin.
He made a soft, grumbling sound of protest but didn’t open his eyes, his arm was slung over them.
I just watched him breathe. The rise and fall of his chest, the peaceful slackness of his face in the moonlight. Then I slid off the bed.
My legs were wobbly.
I went to the ensuite bathroom and found his first aid kit under the sink. A heavy metal box stocked like a field medic’s.
Back at the bedside, I peeled away the old, sweat–soaked bandage. The torn stitches looked raw and painful, but there was no fresh blood. No sign of infection.
I cleaned it gently with an antiseptic wipe, then secured a clear waterproof bandage over it.
When I was done, I pressed a kiss to his other thigh. “All done,” I whispered.
His eyes fluttered open. He looked down at the new bandage, then back at me, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. “Thank you.”
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15:45 Sat, Jan 10
Chapter 97
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He pushed himself up with a grunt, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He tested his weight on the leg, nodded once, and reached for his cane. Naked, he limped toward the bathroom.
I watched him go, the powerful lines of his back, the slight hitch in his step, the way he leaned heavily on the cane. He pushed the door closed behind him, but not all the way.
The shower hissed to life, and through the gap in the door, I watched him step behind the frosted glass.
That broke the spell.
As I lay there naked on the soaked bedding, the real world came rushing back in.
I found my crumpled jeans in a heap on the floor and fished my phone out of the pocket. I stared at it, my thumb hovering over Stella’s contact. It was the middle of the night, but I knew she’d be awake.
The Russians had been to the shop. They’d asked for me. Was she okay? Had they been back? Was the shop even still open?
The need to know was a physical itch. A thread connecting me back to the life I’d had before all this.
I took a deep breath and tapped her name. I put the phone to my ear, listening to the empty dial tone, then the first ring.
My eyes were fixed on the bathroom doorway. On the black shape of the man I loved standing under the water in the dark, washing the night away.
I waited for Stella’s voice on the other end of the line.
She didn’t answer.
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
