chapter 8

Caelan’s POV

She doesn’t break eye contact as she steps into me.

Her hands slide up my chest, slow and unhurried, like she has all the time in the world to make a mistake she won’t regret. Her fingers brush the ring on my thumb—the one I never take off—and she smiles like she knows exactly what it means.

I do nothing to stop her.

I should. But I don’t.

Because the second her hands grip the collar of my shirt and pull it down my shoulders, my restraint snaps.

My mouth crashes onto hers.

She moans—fuck, that sound—and I feel it in my spine. My hands lock around her waist and I push her back into the nearest wall, teeth grazing her bottom lip before I suck it into my mouth and bite.

She gasps, dragging her nails down my chest, leaving raw trails that only fuel the heat roaring through me.

“Tell me you want this,” I growl against her throat.

“I want this.”

“Say my name.”

“Caelan.”

It’s not a whisper. It’s a claim.

And I want to hear it again and again.

I drop to my knees in front of her, fingers gripping the curve of her thighs as I kiss along the inside—slow, reverent, filthy. Her breath stutters when my mouth reaches the apex of her thighs and I don’t stop.

I bury my tongue between her legs like it’s the only thing that’ll keep me breathing. Her fingers thread through my hair, nails scraping my scalp as I moan into her.

She tastes like revenge and moonlight.

She gasps my name again, hips grinding toward my mouth. I lap at her, messy and shameless, until her legs tremble around my shoulders.

“Don’t stop,” she pants.

I don’t.

I wrap my arms around her thighs and pin her to the wall with my mouth, my tongue flicking against her clit in quick, relentless circles. Her moans break, high and desperate.

“Caelan—fuck—” she cries out.

That sound wrecks me.

She falls apart against my mouth, shaking, pulsing on my tongue. I don’t pull back until she’s gasping air like it’s the only thing keeping her from floating out of her skin.

When I rise, her eyes are wild. Her body still twitching.

But she’s not done.

She grabs my jaw and pulls me into a kiss, tasting herself on my lips, moaning as I grind against her stomach.

I don’t ask permission.

I lift her.

Her legs wrap around my waist, and I turn, slamming her back against the edge of the table.

I undo my pants one-handed, still kissing her, still biting. Her teeth sink into my lip and I groan.

Then I slide into her in one hard, deep thrust.

She cries out—my name—and my hand flies up to grip her throat, not to choke, just to feel her.

I move.

Deep. Rough. Every thrust a promise of exactly what she came here to take.

Her body takes me like she was made for it, tight and hot and dripping as she claws at my back, moaning louder now. The table shakes beneath us. My hips slam against hers, rhythm brutal and precise.

“You’re going to make him feel this, aren’t you?” I pant against her ear.

She nods, whimpering.

“Every thrust. Every scream.”

She moans louder when I say it. And fuck—she clenches around me, her nails sinking into my back as I grip her ass and fuck her harder.

“You want him to know I’m inside you?”

“Yes,” she gasps. “Make me scream your name again.”

I do.

I fuck her harder, faster, until the only sounds in the room are skin slapping skin, her cries, and my groans.

She tightens again.

“I’m—”

“Come for me,” I growl.

She does.

Writhing, gasping, her body seizing around me with a sound that is all mine.

Caelan.

Her voice breaks on it, but she says it like it’s sacred.

I let go.

I bury myself to the hilt and spill inside her with a broken sound, her name tangled in a groan as her body pulses around mine.

We don’t move for a long moment. Just panting. Hearts racing. Her legs still locked around me. My hand still at her throat. My forehead resting against hers.

Then, her voice.

Soft.

Dangerous.

“Think he felt that?”

I smirk.

“I fucking hope so.”