Page 82 of Fallen Empire

He didn’t stop claiming my mouth as my legs dropped to the floor. His hands moved fast, undoing the button on my jeans and shoving them down with practiced ease. He dropped to his knees, stripping each shoe off one by one, leaving me in nothing but my shirt and panties. I was breathless—clinging to the wall for air I couldn’t seem to find.

Then he stayed there. On his knees.

Staring.

Right at the place he wanted most. The place I needed him to be most.

His eyes flicked up to meet mine, wild and feral like he couldn’t decide where to taste me first. And then—

Rip.

The sound of my panties tearing was the final warning. A declaration. His decision had been made.

One second, I was looking down at him, and the next—his mouth was on my clit, and my whole body buckled. I gasped, my head hitting the wall behind me as I fought to stay upright. His tongue flicked and thrust, his teeth teasing and tormenting until my legs shook.

He lifted them. Wrapped them over his shoulders. And pinned me to the wall with nothing but strength and hunger.

He ate me like he was starving.

Like I was the last meal he’d ever have.

My hips rolled forward, chasing every flick of his tongue, every swirl and suck as my fingers knotted into his hair, pulling him deeper. My thighs clenched, my moans echoing off the walls as I lost myself in the heat, in the taste of something I’d denied us both for far too long.

He growled something I couldn’t make out—didn’t need to. Not when his tongue curled in just the right spot and sent my hips flying forward, a cry spilling from my lips before I could stop it.

My head slammed back against the wall as pleasure rolled through me in punishing waves. He didn’t let up. Every motion was methodical and unrelenting. My hands gripped his hair like reins I couldn’t loosen, my legs trembling around his shoulders, my body barely hanging on as I chased the next wave. He teased. He tormented. His fingers dug into my thighs like he had to hold me together to keep me from falling apart.

Then his tongue dipped lower, tasting me from a new angle—probing, licking, thrusting until I arched so hard my spine scraped the wall. His name slipped past my lips like a prayer, breathless and broken, as he buried his face deeper against me.

My walls fluttered, clenched—then pulsed harder as my climax built to a height I didn’t know I could reach. And when it finally hit, it shattered me. A cry tore from my throat as wave after wave crashed down, his mouth catching every drop of release like it was the only thing he’d ever thirsted for.

He stood in one fluid motion, mouth slick from everything I’d given him. My legs nearly gave out without his shoulders, but he caught me—his entire body anchoring mine. My head dropped against the cool surface behind me, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

Then he shifted. Spun me. Pressed my chest to the wall with his body molded to my back, one hand gripping my hip while the other dragged my shirt up and over my head in a single pull. My bra snapped open a beat later, falling to the floor without ceremony.

His mouth found my shoulder first—biting, tasting, breathing me in.

I could feel the hard press of his cock through his pants as he ground against my ass, his hand sliding between the wall and my breast.

It groped. Squeezed.Claimed.

I cried out—arching, burning, needing.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered against my skin.

I didn’t even hesitate.

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

“Mills,” he said, voice ragged—laced with carnal warning. “There won’t be any going back. Once I’m inside of you again, you’ll be mine. Forever.”

“Yours.”

And I meant it. Whatever I’d locked away in that goddamn box would have to stay there. Because I wasn’t coming back from this.

That was all he needed.

He shoved his jeans and boxers down just enough to free himself. I felt the hard length of him against my ass, and then—one hand gripping my hip, the other sliding between my legs to guide himself—he pressed into me.