Page 14 of Siren (The Enigma Affairs #1)

TWELVE

S he was still under my skin.

That slit in her dress. The sway of her hips when she walked ahead of me—heels clicking soft against the marble like percussion she didn’t mean to play. The way she smelled when she leaned in close—like honey melting on brown skin, like heat after dusk, like a promise I’d crawl to keep .

And her voice… fuck . It lived in my chest now.

Not just the way she sang—but the way she said my name. Slow. Measured. Like she’d claimed it. Like she already knew it belonged on her tongue.

I’d been half-hard since the elevator ride. No touches. No kisses. Just breath and silence and glances that peeled the pretense off both of us.

Now, I was fresh out the shower with the steam thick in the air, my towel slung low on my hips, water sliding down my back and my chest still damp. My dick already heavy with need, pulsing with every memory of her mouth.

Then the knock came. Two taps. Then silence.

Another—softer. Certain.

My hand gripped the knob, and when the door swung open—there she was. Black trench coat. Heels. Nothing else and that calm look on her face—like she knew I’d open. Like this wasn’t a question. Just inevitability.

She stepped inside without a word. Turned to face me. Her eyes slow and direct, dark as the night.

Then—two fingers. Soft against my lips.

“No talking,” she whispered. “Not tonight.”

I didn’t breathe. Her voice was heat and hush and hunger.

She stepped closer, the hem of her coat brushing my knees. Her lips grazed my jaw, just enough to tease.

“We should sing instead.”

Her scent—skin and perfume made to be kissed off—hit me in the chest like a drumline.

“Do you want to sing with me, Taraj?”

My name had never sounded so undone. I reached for the belt of her coat.

She stopped me. “I didn’t say take it off,” she murmured. “Not yet.”

My dick throbbed under the towel like it had ears. “You like control,” I said, voice thick. “I like rhythm. And you’ve got it.”

She circled me, slow and deliberate, her coat parting just enough for me to catch black lace clinging to her perfect ass, a peek of her slick thighs, the soft curve of pussy lips beneath sheer fabric. She walked like sin— on beat.

When she turned back, her lips were parted, eyes lit with something primal.

“I was just tested. You?”

“Yeah, and I’ve not been with anyone for a while.”

She smiled.” A year for me. I’m on the pill.”

My dick pulsed and I swallowed hard. it was clear what she wanted. She wanted raw. Skin to skin. Flesh to flesh. She wanted everything, and I was going to give it. The proof of that came with her next words.

“I don’t want slow tonight,” she said. “Not at first.”

That was all it took because i didn’t think I could go slow—not when I’d been thinking about smelling and tasting her pussy all night. I let the towel fall.

Her eyes dropped—and stayed.

I crossed the space between us in one step—mouth crashing into hers, hands gripping her hair, dragging down the length of her spine, molding to her waist, then lower, gripping her ass with both palms like it belonged to me.

Her lips parted. Tongue met mine—slick, hot, eager. She moaned into me—deep, messy, like she’d been waiting all fucking day.

I walked her backward until her back hit the wall. My body pinned hers, just enough pressure to remind her how hard I was, how ready. Our hands tangled before I slid mine up, trapping her wrists above her head as my mouth traveled down the silk heat of her neck.

Her skin was like fucking velvet. Warm, flushed, tasting like want.

I licked below her jaw, across her collarbone, down to the swell of her breasts. I sucked her nipple through the lace—slow, greedy pulls that had her back arching, her hips lifting.

She gasped. “Oh my?—”

I dropped to my knees before she could finish the thought.

Her coat slipped from her shoulders and puddled at her ankles—pooling around those fuck-me heels like an offering.

She stood there in nothing but black lace. Thighs trembling. Pussy glistening through sheer fabric that did nothing to hide how soaked she was.

I looked up at her as I hooked my fingers in the lace and eased it aside.

Her mound was plush. Slick. A soft patch of hair glistening with wetness. Her lips were swollen, parted, her clit peeking out like it was begging for my mouth.

God.

She was ready for me.

And I was going to give that pussy the kind of attention it wouldn’t forget.

Her breath was shallow. Her eyes heavy. Her pussy—wet, pulsing, calling to my fucking mouth. I kissed her thigh. Then higher. Then again at the crease of her hip.

Her fingers slid into my braids.

I dragged my mouth lower, pressed my tongue against her slit and licked—slow and deliberate, savoring the taste of her through the lace. She gasped, hips jerking. She tasted so fucking good. Her scent in the back of my throat increased the experience of her. God.

“Raj…”

I gripped her ass, pulled her tighter to my face, and devoured.

Tongue flattening against her clit. Circling. Flicking. Tuning myself to every tremble and moan. My fingers slid between her folds. Found her dripping. I pushed two inside—deep and curling, stroking that spot that made her knees shake.

She rocked her hips against my mouth, chased the rhythm like she was built for it. She came once—hard. Her thighs clamped around my head. Then again, messier. Louder.

She tried to pull away, but I kept her there. Tongue fucking her, fingers working her open, until she shattered all over again. Her cum all over my mouth and goatee.

“Raj—fuck?—”

I stood. My dick was throbbing, veins tight with pressure, her taste slick on my tongue.

“I want it,” she whispered. “I want your dick inside me. Now.”

I didn’t make her repeat it.

She reached for me, wrapped her hand around my length.

“God, you’re thick…”

I groaned. Her hand stroked from base to tip, slow and reverent.

Then she dropped to her knees.

Her lips wrapped around me—and I damn near lost it.

Wet. Warm. She took her time. Tongue flicking under the head, sliding down my shaft like she was trying to memorize the shape of my hunger.

Spit slicked her chin, coated her hand. She moaned around me—deep, filthy—and that vibration had me clenching my fists just to stay grounded.

Then she looked up. Eyes wild. Lips stretched.

Throat swallowing around my dick like she wanted to leave a mark on my soul.

“Fuck,” I muttered. “Sienna…”

I pulled her up, grabbed her by the waist, and lifted her like she weighed nothing.

Her arms wrapped around my neck. Legs locked around my hips. She didn’t ask questions.

I carried her to the bed and laid her back against the sheets, spread her thighs wide, and stared at her pussy—wet, glistening, pulsing.

The lace was soaked. Barely there.

I pushed it aside and dragged the head of my dick through her slit—just once.

She gasped. Then I slid in. Slow. Thick. Deep.

“Shit,” I groaned. “You’re so fucking tight…”

She clamped around me like her pussy had been waiting just for this. Just for me.

Her hips lifted, heels pressing into the backs of my thighs, and I drove deeper, hitting the hilt with a grunt.

Her moan ripped through the room.

“Taraj—fuck—yes?—”

I braced over her and moved—deep, full strokes that made the bed rock beneath us. Her nails clawed my back. Her mouth met mine, hot and wild, licking into me between cries.

I fucked her like she was already mine. Harder. Deeper. Her pussy clenched around me over and over, dripping, soaking us both.

She shook beneath me. Legs quivering. Mouth open, breath stuttering.

Then she came on my dick. Screaming.

I didn’t stop.

I fucked her through it—through the trembling, the way her pussy pulsed, the way she whimpered, “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t fucking stop ? —”

And I didn’t. I gave her everything. Every inch. Every stroke.

Until I felt it building. That tight coil. The edge.

Her lips brushed my ear.

“Cum inside me.”

That was it.

My hips jerked. My rhythm faltered.

I buried myself deep, spilled inside her with a growl that tore straight from my gut.

Hot. Full. Shaking. Her name on my lips. Again. And again.

Sienna .

Sienna.

Sienna.

We collapsed into each other, bodies soaked in sweat and slick, breaths tangled. Her pussy still pulsing around me. My heart crashing into hers like we’d just come back from war.

And in the silence that followed, I didn’t feel hollow.

I felt home.