Page 71

“Take it off,” I say, low, almost a growl.

She doesn’t ask which part.

She just reaches for the thin straps and slides them off her shoulders with slow, devastating grace. The satin pools at her waist, leaving her bare from the chest up.

My eyes drag over her curves, her skin—all flushed and perfect. Her nipples are tight from the chill and the heat between us. Her chest rises with every breath, hands still curled around the dress like she’s holding on just enough to stay grounded.

“You, are perfect.”

She reaches for me, and I move. Mouth on hers, hungry and reckless, like the kiss is the only thing tethering me to the earth.

It’s messy. Desperate. Teeth and tongue and soft moans swallowed between us. Her hands are under my shirt, over my chest, tugging at the waistband of my jeans like she’s just as gone as I am.

Then she shifts, pulling me forward, pulling me over her.

Her legs cradle my hips as her fingers fist the back of my shirt, dragging me down until I’m covering her completely.

My weight settles on top of her, hips aligned, chest to chest, and everything inside me short-circuits.

I cup her full breast, fingers spreading to take in every inch. She gasps, quiet and breathless, and arches into me like she’s chasing the contact. I roll my thumb over her nipple—feel it pebble under my touch. She whimpers, hips shifting beneath me, and the sound goes straight to my cock.

“Fuck, Ellie,” I breathe, dragging my lips down her jaw, her throat, over the spot where her pulse races. “You’re unbelievable.”

She doesn’t answer, just lets out a needy, broken moan. Her nails skim down my back. Her thighs lock tighter.

I trail my hand lower, down her ribs, over her stomach. Slow. Deliberate. I want her aching for it. I want her shaking.

When I reach the hem of her dress, I tug gently, letting the fabric inch up her thighs. She lifts her hips to help, eyes locked on mine.

“Off,” I murmur, rough with restraint. “I want it all off.”

She nods, breathless, arms raised. I shift back, pulling the navy satin up and over her.

Then it’s gone, crumpled on the floor like it never mattered.

She’s left in nothing but a scrap of navy lace and the flicker of city lights dancing over her skin.

Jesus fucking Christ.

I sit back on my heels, just looking. She’s stretched out and undone. Entirely mine. Her chest rises and falls in shallow, unsteady breaths, and her legs shift, inviting me in.

“I made a promise,” I whisper, “that I’d make you feel everything.”

Then I reach for her again. “This is me keeping that promise.”

My fingers trail along the edge of the lace, and her breath stutters, hips jolting.

“Is this what you wore under that dress all night?” I murmur, my mouth against her collarbone as my hand slips beneath the fabric, finally touching her.

She gasps, body arching. “Fuck,” she breathes. “Yes, Kieran.”

I press a slow, steady circle against her clit. She arches—mouth open with a sound that wrecks me.

“Ellie,” I groan, sucking gently at the spot just below her ear. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

She lifts her hips again. Shameless and begging. “Then show me.”

And fuck me, I do.

I slide my hand further under the fabric of her thong, my fingers wet from how ready she is, how much she wants this. I drag my touch through her, slowly at first. Just enough to tease.

Then I sink two fingers inside her, deep and purposeful.

She gasps, her whole body jolting under the sudden stretch, her head falling back into the cushions, eyes rolling back.

I find a rhythm, firm and steady, and curve my fingers just right, brushing that sweet spot over and over.

She cries out, hips jerking, her thighs trembling on either side of me. “Oh my god. Kieran…”

Her hands are in my hair now, gripping tight, trying to anchor herself as I work her open. I press in deep, then draw back slowly, dragging against every nerve-ending until her mouth falls open on a strangled moan.

“You were made for me, Ellie.” I murmur, voice hot against her throat.

She whimpers, writhing, chasing the rhythm with every roll of her hips.

I press my palm snug against her, grinding against her clit in time with each thrust, and she’s almost there. I can feel it.

I pull out of her and rise slowly, meeting her eyes. Her chest is rising and falling like she’s just run a marathon. Then I scoop her up into my arms, because there’s more. So much more.

“Bedroom,” I whisper against her mouth.

She nods, her voice gone, her fingers digging into my shoulders as I carry her across the apartment and into the bedroom—but I don’t lay her down.

Not yet.

Instead, I lower her slowly to her feet at the foot of the bed, her body close to mine, her breath warm against my neck. She steadies herself with a hand on my chest, and then she looks up at me, something dark and determined gleaming in her eyes.

She undoes my shirt slowly, fingers brushing just under the collar. She kisses her way across my jaw, down my throat, lips dragging against stubble. Her hands slide over my skin as she spreads my shirt open, her mouth mapping the path downward.

She unbuttons my jeans.

My breath hitches as she works them open, her fingers brushing the hard line of me. Then she frees me, one hand wrapping around me without hesitation.

A low, broken sound leaves my throat.

She looks up, grip steady, eyes blazing.

“You’re unravelling me,” I manage.

She just smiles, wicked and soft.

“That’s the idea.”

And then I’m kissing her again, rough and urgent. My hands in her hair, hers dragging down my back now.

I kick out of my jeans, blind with need.

Then I lift her. She wraps around me effortlessly, and I carry her to the bed, kneeling onto the edge and lowering her slowly, gently.

Her back hits the sheets, her hair spreads like a halo, and her legs part for me without hesitation.

And I still can’t believe she’s here. That she’s mine.

I kiss her harder. Tongue sliding against hers as my hand trails down her side, memorising her all over again.

“Hands,” I whisper against her neck. “Put them above your head.”

She obeys, fingers curling around the headboard.

“Don’t let go.”

I trail my mouth down her chest, taking my time. I suck one nipple into my mouth, then the other, lavishing her with attention until she’s writhing, arching, gasping beneath me.

I drag my tongue over her stomach, kiss along her hips. She opens for me without a word.

I hook my thumbs into her thong, sliding it down slowly.

“Kieran,” she moans.

I grin.

“Still gripping that headboard?”

She nods.

“Good girl.”

Then I press my mouth to her—and she shatters .

She gasps my name, hips jolting, trying to chase it. But I hold her down. I lick, suck, tease. Slow, deliberate, and devastating. I keep her on the edge until she’s trembling. Until her voice breaks.

And just when she’s about to come. I stop.

“Kieran,” she begs, eyes wild.

“Not yet,” I murmur. “We’ll get there, baby. Just trust me.”

I crawl up her body, hard and aching, cock pressing against her stomach. She wraps her hand around me and strokes once.

I groan, my head dropping to her shoulder.

“I need you,” she whispers. “ Now .”

I reach for the drawer, tear open the foil, and hand her the condom. She rolls it on with shaking hands. And fuck, it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.

I hook her legs around my waist and slide into her in one smooth thrust.

Fuuuck!

She gasps, clinging to me, and I am still just for a second.

“You feel,” I rasp, “so fucking good.”

She nods, barely breathing, her lips parted like the air’s caught somewhere in her throat.

Her eyes lock on mine and I can feel the tremble in her legs where they’re wrapped around me.

I move, slow and deliberate, dragging every inch, every heartbeat, letting her feel the weight of it.

Her breath stutters, her fingers tighten against my back, and all I can do is hold her gaze and give her everything I’ve been holding back.

“Harder, Kieran,” she whispers.

And my control snaps.

I pull out almost completely, the loss of contact making her gasp. And then I drive back in, hard and deep. My hands lock around her hips, fingers digging in, grounding me as I thrust into her like I’m trying to etch myself into her skin.

She cries out, arms flying up around my shoulders. Her heels dig into my back, pulling me closer, deeper, like she can’t get enough. Like she doesn’t want space between us. She’s taking all of it. Every inch. Every thrust. Every broken breath that cracks the silence between us.

And I want to give her more.

Not just pleasure, but all of it. The kind that stays in her bones. The kind that ruins her for anything that isn’t this. Isn’t us .

I shift my weight, never breaking rhythm, and reach up to grab a pillow from the top of the bed.

Sliding it beneath the curve of her lower back, I lift her hips just enough to tilt her to me.

Her gasp catches in her throat as the new angle hits and her nails sink into my shoulders, leaving hot, stinging trails in their wake.

“Oh my God,” she whimpers, arching her body and tipping her head back. “That feels so… fuck!”

I lose myself in the sound, in the feel of her wrapped around me, taking everything I give and silently begging for more.

I brace one hand beneath the pillow to keep her steady, the other gripping a firm handful of her ass, fingers digging deep as I pull her into each thrust.

“You take it so good, Ellie,” I growl, voice rough with everything I’m holding back.

Her body trembles beneath me, every wrecked moan ripped from her throat.

I drive into her again and again, burying myself to the hilt, the sound of skin meeting skin sharp and relentless, mixing with the broken rhythm of her breathing. Her hands claw at me. My hair, my back, anything she can grab, like she’s trying to anchor herself to this moment, to us.

She’s close. I can feel it in the way her legs shake, in the stuttering gasps that spill from her lips, in the desperate tension pulling tight between us.

She’s right on the edge. And I’m not stopping until I see her fall.

So, I slow. Deliberate and controlled. Drawing it out just long enough to make it unforgettable.

“Look at me, baby.” I murmur, voice rough but tender, thumb brushing along her bottom lip.

Her lashes flutter, then lift. And when her eyes find mine, wide, glassy, and brimming with something fragile, it feels like the entire world stops for a moment to breathe with us.

And in that breath, when her eyes find mine, everything stills.

She lifts a hand and cups my face, her touch feather-light but desperate, like she’s grounding herself in something real. Then, a single tear spills down her cheek, trailing across her skin.

“Baby,” I breathe, the word catching somewhere in my chest. I lift a hand to catch the tear with my thumb, my other cradling the back of her neck. “Are you okay?”

She doesn’t answer right away. Her mouth opens, closes. Her throat works through the silence, and I wait.

“I don’t—I’ve never…” Her voice is quiet, barely a whisper. “I have never had this before. No one has ever made me feel like?—”

“Like you’re everything?” I finish for her, voice low. “Because you are, Ellie. Everything and more.”

She blinks hard. More tears. No retreat. Just raw, unfiltered truth.

I run both my hands to the sides of her neck. Keeping her anchored as I press my forehead to hers. “I promised you,” I say, “you will always feel everything with me.”

Her lips part, and she presses a gentle kiss to my lips.

“God, Ells,” I whisper, heart thudding, “I think I?—”

“Shhh.”

Her fingers curl around the back of my neck, pulling me closer. “I know,” she says, voice shaking but sure. “I feel it.”

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding, something like relief breaking across my chest. Then, I kiss her. Slowly. Completely. Like every second of this has been waiting for us to arrive here.

I move slowly, deliberately, letting the rhythm build between us. There’s no rush, no need for more that this. Just the steady grind of my hips against hers, our bodies aligning perfectly, as if made to fit together exactly this way.

Her hands slide over my back, nails grazing lightly, anchoring. Her breath stutters, like she wasn’t expecting it to feel like this.

Our eyes stay locked the entire time. She doesn’t look away, not even when her mouth falls open, not when her thighs tighten around my waist, pulling me deeper, harder.

I move with her, each thrust a promise. Each breath a confession.

And then she shatters.

I feel it first, the way her body tenses, trembling under me. The way her breath catches and a soft, broken moan tears from her throat. Her legs lock around me, holding me like I’m the only steady thing she has.

She comes undone with her eyes still on mine. Not hidden. Not ashamed. Just open. Honest and bare.

And fuck, in this moment, she is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

The way she opens for me. Gives in to it.

And that’s all it takes.

I groan against her skin, burying my face in the crook of her neck as release rushes through me, hot and blinding, a full-body tremor that drags me under right along with her. My hips slow, easing us through it, deeper and deeper until we’re both spent.

Until there’s nothing left but the sound of our breathing. The echo of our heartbeats tangled together in the quiet.

She cups my face, her touch light and grounding. Her thumb brushes just beneath my cheekbone, a wordless comfort. And I lift my head, eyes meeting hers.

She’s soft now. Glowing. Flushed and radiant and entirely real.

I lean in and kiss her, not frantic or hungry, but full of everything I still don’t know how to say.

She exhales into it like a sigh of relief, like she’s been waiting for this exact softness. My arms slide around her, holding her close as I deepen the kiss. Her hands come up to cradle my jaw, her fingers brushing behind my ear, anchoring us there, in that breath, in that kiss.

When we finally part, neither of us moves.

I wrap her in my arms fully, gathering her against me as we shift onto our sides.

The sheets are tangled around our legs, the quiet glow of the bedside lamp casting a warm hush over the room.

Her cheek rests against my chest, one hand splayed gently over my heart, the other still curled near her mouth like she’s holding something sacred between her fingers.

My thumb traces slow circles over her bare shoulder, brushing the curve of her skin again and again like I can’t stop touching her. Like I don’t want to.

Because this wasn’t just sex—not even close.

It’s her.

It’s always been her.