Page 6

I told myself I didn’t care about what Sebastian had said.

But if that was the case, why had four hours passed and his words were still echoing in my head?

It wasn’t that I liked him all that much. It was just—I was tired.

Tired of men thinking they were doing me a favor by wanting me.

Tired of choosing wrong.

Tired of having to pretend it didn’t sting.

My eyes drifted from the ceiling to the sweating glass of gin on my nightstand and a half-burned blunt resting in the tray beside it. I’d been alternating between them like either one could dull the edge, like smoke and liquor could rewind the clock.

And the worst part about that night was that I was missing sleep—because every time I closed my eyes, I saw Priest’s face.

That stupid sneer. He had look so mad earlier, jealous even. That pleased me when it shouldn't have.

The fact that I kept remembering how his handsand mouth felt on me that night made it worse.

He had touched me like I was holy and ruined at the same time.

My pussy throbbed, becoming slick and needy, betraying me.

I slid my hand over my stomach, let me fingers graze lower, across the heat gathering between my thighs, hating how juicy my pussy was just from the memory of him.

Just before I started rubbing my clit, I snatched my hand away. I was not going there.

I didn’t need to be thinking about him. He was married.

Of course he was married. The powerful ones always were. They were always cheating too—usually with women who looked nothing like their wives. Months later, and I still couldn’t figure out why he chose me.

Maybe it wasn’t about me at all. Maybe I was just... convenient. The kind of girl he knew he could use.

The first knock was soft—barely there. I almost ignored it.

I just blinked at the ceiling.

Then came three more knocks.

I sat up.

I grabbed my phone off the floor. No texts. No calls. It was 12:08 a.m.

My pulse kicked.

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, slipped my hand under the pillow, and listened.

“Miyori ,” Sebastian’s voice came through the door. “Please. Open up.”

I didn’t move.

He knocked again, harder this time. “Come on. I just want to talk. You left without saying anything. What’s wrong?”

My phone lit up and i knew it was him. I let it go dark again.

“Miyori , please. Tell me what I did?”

The knocking turned into pounding.

I got up.

“Miyori , open the goddamn door!”

I grabbed my phone, typed 911 into the keypad, ready to hit call as I made my way to the living room .

“Go home,” I said through the door. “You’re not welcome here no more, and I don’t owe you no explanation.” I sounded so hostile and bitter. I guess his words had actually hurt me.

“Open the fucking door, or I’ll kick it in!”

“Kick my door in if you want to, bitch. I will call the police,” I yelled back.

Silence.

I stared at the door for a second, waiting for him to knock again.When he didn't, then I took a step back to head back to the room. He was probably gone. Most men didn’t want to deal with the police.

Then the banging started again—louder this time. Shaking the wood. My neighbors were going to report me to the leasing office. Anger crept up my spine.

Fed up, I marched to the door, phone still in hand, and ripped it open—

My breath hitched, then hiccupped out.

The person staring back at me wasn’t Sebastian.

Priest stood there in a black coat, eyes hard, mouth tight.

I blinked. “You—what are you doing here?”

“I came looking for you a week after that night. I went by your old place. You moved.”

My heart kicked up at his words. Shamefully, I had wondered if he thought about me after that night. Now he confirmed it. I didn’t know what to do with that... and since I didn’t, I pretended.

“You tracked me down?” I folded my arms, faking like I was madder than I was.

“No. I followed you when you left my house, then came back. Couldn’t track you. You’re too good at hiding.” He said it like it was perfectly normal to stalk someone.

“That’s not normal—following strange women.”

“Strange? I came in you. Know what your pussy tastes like. Know what my name sounds like on your lips when you cum.”

“Strangers fuck all the time,” I rebutted, even though heat licked up my spine, my nipples tightened beneath the thin fabric of my tank, and my stomach did this low, dangerous dip I hated because of his words.

He didn’t say anything at first—just narrowed his eyes and gave a low, smug hmph.

Then his face shifted. He looked down the hall toward the elevators.

“You should stay away from Sebastian,” he said.

I blinked. “Why?”

“He’s not what you think. I mean it. Just… stay aw ay from him.”

There was a pause. Heavy. Tense.

“He has issues.” His jaw was ticking like he was chewing on his words.

Another pause, and this time, when he looked at me, there was no smirk. I could read the sincerity in his eyes.

“He’s complicated—and that can make your life complicated.”

He was being too cryptic for me. But it didn't matter enough to to question him further.

“I’m not worrying about him. You made sure of that with that shady-ass call.”

He stepped inside, his body colliding with mine.

I shoved him. “What are you doing?”

“Coming in.”

“No, you’re not. Take your married ass home!”

He stepped closer.

“I’m not married the way you think.”

I stared at him.

“I don’t care. You don’t have to lie to me.”

“It’s not a lie.”

I laughed, abrupt and bitter. “ And I’m supposed to believe you because what??”

He didn’t answer. He just grabbed me—one hand under my thighs, the other around my back—and lifted me like I weighed nothing. My heart did that thing it does when you plummet down a rollercoaster.

“Priest—put me down—”

He carried me further into the living room.

Dropped me to my feet, spun me around, and pushed me up against the wall before I could catch my breath.

The impact rattled something loose in me.

The sound of the picture frame shifting above my head barely registered.

All I could focus on was him—how close he was, how hard he was, how thick his dick felt pressing into the soft curve of my ass through our clothes.

His mouth was at my ear, voice low and wrecked. “I missed you.”

I didn’t respond. I didn’t move. Couldn’t. My breath hitched as I heard the metallic slide of his belt being undone—slow. He pulled it free in one smooth motion, then took my wrists and lifted them above my head, pinning them there with one hand while the other looped the belt around them.

My heart was pounding so hard I could barely breathe. I’d never had someone come at me like this—so aggressive, so focused, so rough. And God, I loved it .

“I advise you, don’t let anything I won’t like slip from between them pretty little lips of yours right now.”

He leaned in, breath hot against my skin, then sank his teeth into the shell of my ear—like he was marking me from the inside out.

A gasp shuttered out of my mouth, then the pain disappeared.

The way my adrenaline had kicked up had me feeling shaky.

I took his advice and kept my lips tucked.

I didn’t know what might have spilled out of them.

He tightened the belt one last time before stepping back just enough to look at me.

I couldn’t see him fully, not with my cheek pressed to the wall and my arms stretched above me, but I felt him. The heat of his stare. The tension in his body.

And then I heard him drop to his knees behind me.

His hands shoved my pajama shorts down in one smooth motion.

He spread my ass and snatched me into a position that had me bent at the waist. Before I could say a word, his mouth was on me—his tongue stroking my pussy with slow, devastating precision from behind.

I gasped, bucking against his face, but there was nowhere to go. No way to escape it.

“Fuck, Miyori ,” he murmured into me. “You taste so good. I missed this. ”

My knees were already threatening to give out, but he didn’t stop. He devoured me like he was starving—tongue-fucking me. His slick long fingers sank into my pussy, going deep, stretching my walls, his lips sealing around my clit as he sucked me toward the edge.

I cried out, wrists flexing in the makeshift restraint, body trembling as the pleasure rolled through me like a tidal wave.

And just when I thought I couldn’t take anymore, he stood—hard dick pressing against my bare ass again. He grabbed my hips, lined himself up, and slammed into me with one deep, brutal thrust.

“Fuck!” I moaned, arching back, the stretch and the sting making my whole body light up.

He fucked me hard, my bound hands thudding softly against the wall with each thrust. Each time he drove into me, I felt him deeper. Felt him claiming something inside me. I could feel my juices leaking down my thighs.

“You feel that?” he growled. “That’s mine. You’re mine.”

“Yes,” I gasped. “All yours.” I said what I knew he wanted to hear and I would have said anything because my orgasm hit me without warning, my body seized and I cried out as the pleasure exploded. My vision swam andtears wet my eyes.

He followed right after, burying himself deep and groaning as he emptied inside me—holding me so tight around the waist I thought he might crack my ribs, and I couldn’t fucking breathe right.

When we finally stopped shaking, he reached up and gently un-looped the belt, kissing my wrists where the leather had left faint impressions.

I turned to face him—hair messy, lips parted, heart still racing, sweat drying on my skin.

He looked ruined. And beautiful. And mad.

He was staring at me like I had offended him in some way. Like I had crossed some invisible line.

I felt thoroughly fucked—but sad, for some reason. Like this was the beginning of a story that would only end in heartbreak.