Liam helped her, using his strength to push the heavy fabric down over her hips, taking her underwear with it, until she was completely bare from the waist down, her long, pale legs wrapped around his dark sweatpants.
He didn’t bother taking his pants off entirely; he just shoved them down past his knees, freeing his thick, erect shaft, which sprang hard and hot against her wet entrance.
Elena looked down at him, her dark eyes wild, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps.
"You still hurt so be careful," she commanded softly. "Did you hear what I had just said Liam?"
Liam didn’t answer with words.
He took her by the hips, lifting her slightly, and guided his broad tip against her slick opening.
Slowly, deliberately, he sank into her.
The tightness was incredible.
Her body clutched at him, hot and wet, wrapping around every inch of his length as he pushed himself all the way in until his pelvis was flushed against hers.
Elena let out a long, shuddering cry, her arms wrapping tightly around his neck, her forehead buried against his uninjured shoulder. "God... you’re so deep..."
Liam stayed still for a moment, his jaw tight, his hands gripping her hips so hard his knuckles turned white.
The sheer, overwhelming heat of her inside him seemed to wash away the dull, aching throbbing in his muscles, replacing it with a single, sharp focus.
"Stop worrying and let’s just have fun," he grunted, his voice rough.
She lifted her head, her face flushed, her lips parted, her eyes dark and heavy with desire.
"Good" he said quietly.
Then he began to move.
He lifted her up slightly and brought her down hard, setting a deep, punishing pace right there on the edge of the mattress.
The bed didn’t creak, it was heavy, solid wood—but the sound of their skin slapping together filled the quiet room, echoing against the rain outside.
Elena held onto him for dear life.
Her legs locked around his waist, her heels digging into his lower back as she rode every thrust.
Every time he drove up into her, her inner muscles clamped down around him, sending electric jolts straight up his spine.
"Ah! Yes... Liam!" she gasped, her head rolling back, her dark hair sweeping over her bare shoulders.
Liam kept his eyes fixed on her.
He watched the way her composed, structured world completely shattered under him.
He watched the way her chest rose and fell, the faint flush spreading across her collarbones, the way her small, breathless sounds turned into sharp, helpless cries with every hit.
He drove deeper, his hands shifting to her waist, guiding her movement, lifting her higher and pulling her down harder until he was bottoming out against her cervix with every stroke.
"Liam—I’m... I’m going to—" she choked out, her fingers digging wildly into the muscles of his arms.
"Come for me," he growled, his thrusts becoming faster, shorter, a relentless, heavy pounding that left her no room to breathe. "Do it now, Elena."
Her body exploded around him.
Elena let out a high, broken scream that was cut short as she buried her face into his neck, her whole frame convulsing violently.
Her inner walls contracted around his shaft in tight, rapid, desperate spasms, milking him so hard he groaned out loud, his teeth gritting as he fought to hold himself back for just two more seconds.
Watching her break was the end of it.
Liam gripped her hips with everything he had, lifted her slightly, and rammed himself into her as deep as he could go, his climax tearing through him with a rough, gutteral roar.
He came in hot, violent pulses, filling her completely as he held her pinned against his chest.
They stayed like that for a long time, locked together on the edge of the high bed, the sound of their heavy, ragged breathing slowly blending back into the steady, pouring rain outside the window.
Elena’s head rested against his chest, her heart hammering wildly under his ribs. Her body was still trembling faintly from the aftershocks, her skin warm and flushed against his.
Liam’s arms were wrapped around her waist, holding her close, his chin resting on top of her head.
The adrenaline was slowly draining from his system, leaving his muscles heavy, relaxed, and thoroughly spent.
"You’re a nightmare," she whispered into his chest, her voice raspy, completely devoid of its usual authority.
Liam let out a low, rumbling laugh that vibrated against her cheek. "Well, this nightmare sure knows how to fuck you like the man of you dreams would"
"You’re not there yet, maybe a little bit more practice," she murmured, but she pressed a soft kiss to his collarbone anyway.
She shifted slightly, her hands pushing against his chest as she prepared to slide off his lap. "Now, stay still. I actually have to finish cleaning that cut before you bleed all over my sheets."
"The sheets are fine," Liam said lazily, closing his eyes.
"They’re thousand-count Egyptian cotton, Liam. They’re not fine," she retorted, though there was a soft, genuine warmth in her voice as she slid off him, her bare feet hitting the cold floorboards.
She picked up her blouse from the floor, wrapping it loosely around her chest, and walked toward the small ensuite bathroom to wash her hands and grab fresh bandages.
Liam lay back on the mattress, resting his head against her pillows. He felt more relaxed than he had in weeks.
The brutal tension from Wrath’s session had finally dissolved out of his tendons, replaced by a quiet, heavy lethargy that made his eyelids feel like lead.
He reached out blindly with his hand, reaching for his phone on her nightstand to check the time.
His hand swept over the smooth wood, but found nothing.
He frowned, opening one eye.
The nightstand held her lamp, her first-aid kit, a glass of water, and the small bottle of antiseptic—but no phone.
Liam sat up slowly, a slight crease forming between his brows as he remembered.
He hadn’t brought his phone up with him when he came to her room straight after training.
He had left it sitting on the desk in his own room across the corridor, plugged into the wall, entirely forgotten.
Outside, the rain kept falling, loud and steady against the dark glass.
It rang three more times and stopped, the screen turning bright with a notification of nine missed calls from Tasha.
---
Outside Liam’s apartment building across the city,
Tasha stood in front of his door with her phone in her hand and the specific expression of someone who had been calling for eight minutes and had crossed from mildly annoyed into properly annoyed and was approaching something more final.
She tried one more time.
Somewhere faint behind the door she could hear it ringing inside the apartment, which at least confirmed he had left it in there, which was somehow more irritating than if he had simply not had it on him.
She lowered her phone and looked at the door.
Then she heard footsteps behind her in the corridor.
She turned.
A woman was walking down the hallway toward her, and Tasha’s eyes did the thing eyes did when they encountered something unexpected.
Stella’s hair fell loose around her shoulders, catching the light as she moved. The black dress clung to her, tracing the curve of her waist and hips before stopping short above her knee. Her heels clicked against the floor with a rhythm that had its own kind of confidence.
"Sorry, is this Liam’s door?" Her voice sounded just like she looked—beautiful.
’She is genuinely beautiful and really sexy. And she looks like she could be a foreigner. What does she want with Liam?’
The woman stopped a few feet away and looked at the door. Then at Tasha.
"Is this his door," Stella said. Her voice had an edge to it that was not quite an accent but was not entirely without one either.
"Huh," Tasha said.
"My name is Stella," the woman said. "I’m here to see my master."
Tasha looked at her. "Huh. Who are you?"
"I just said," Stella said, with the patience of someone who found confusion in others mildly interesting. "Stella. I am here to see my master."
’Master?’
"Ohh," Stella said, her eyes moving over Tasha with a new quality of attention, something assessing in it. "I see. You are also one of master’s slaves."
Tasha stared at her.
"Slave?" The word came back out of her mouth before she had decided what to do with it. She looked at Stella and something that had been trying to be polite gave up entirely. "Okay, I don’t know who you think you’re talking to right now, but I promise you I am not anyone’s slave."
Stella looked at her with the patience of someone who had not been moved by the response.
"If you don’t want to serve master," she said, "then you don’t deserve his blessing. I can set you free."
Tasha looked at her.
"What are you even—"
Stella moved.
The distance between them ceased to exist in the time it took Tasha to register that it was changing, and then Stella was directly in front of her, face to face, close enough that Tasha could see the specific quality of her eyes up close, which held something in them that ordinary eyes did not hold.
Tasha’s whole body lurched backward, her shoulder hitting the door behind her.
Her heart was doing something irregular and she could not make it stop.
Stella looked at her from close range and smiled. Not unkindly. That was the most unsettling part.
She raised one finger and placed the tip of it gently against the center of Tasha’s forehead.
Tasha felt something happen. Not pain exactly. More like something being reached into and taken out, something she had not known was there until the moment it was removed, and in the absence of it a cold arrived that had nothing to do with the temperature of the hallway.
Stella looked up.
Above Tasha’s head the three filled hearts that had sat since Liam completed it became empty again.
Tasha legs went.
She went down onto her knees in the hallway, her phone clattering to the floor beside her, her hands finding the carpet.
She looked up at Stella standing above her.
"What did you do to me," she said.
Stella looked down at her with that same expression. Interested. Not cruel. Which somehow made it worse.
She turned and started walking back down the corridor the way she had come, her heels clicking against the floor in that same unhurried rhythm.
"What did you do to me," Tasha said again, louder this time, her voice carrying something raw in it that she could not pull back.
Stella kept walking.
At the end of the corridor she stopped without turning around.
"Now that I’m here," she said, to the wall, to the corridor, to no one in particular, "I should have some fun."
Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!
Use arrow keys (or A / D) to PREV/NEXT chapter