Page 20 of The Reckoning (Oakmount Elite #7)

She’s right, of course. This standoff—this endless circling of old wounds and new grievances—solves nothing.

Accomplishes nothing except to push her further away from both of us.

I take a deep breath, forcing the anger down, locking it away for later examination.

For now, I have more pressing concerns. More immediate desires.

“Leave,” I tell Arson, not bothering to look at him. “Wait outside. You’ve fulfilled your obligation to be present.”

There’s a tense moment of silence, and I think he might refuse, might push the confrontation further, but he surprises me when he steps back. The bathroom door closes behind him with a decisive click, leaving us alone in the steam-filled shower, water still cascading over our intertwined bodies.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur, pressing my forehead against hers. “For all of it. For him. For the situation we’re in.”

“Don’t be,” she replies, hands sliding up my chest to rest on my shoulders. “I made my choice. Eyes wide open.”

The trust in her gaze, the certainty in her touch—it undoes me in ways I can’t articulate. After everything she’s seen, everything she knows about the darkness in my family, in me, she’s still here. Still choosing this, choosing us, despite our complicated and broken nature.

I capture her mouth with mine again, pouring everything I can’t say into the kiss. All the emotion I can’t name, the need I can’t fully understand, the gratitude for her presence in this hellscape my life has become.

Her response is immediate and enthusiastic, her body arching into mine with a desperation that matches my own.

My hands slide down her sides, mapping the curves of her body with reverent attention.

Memorizing every dip and swell, every spot that makes her breath catch, every touch that draws a moan from her lips.

The water continues to fall around us, washing away everything but this moment, this connection.

For the first time since my captivity began, I feel fully present in my own skin.

Fully alive. I lift her against the shower wall, and she wraps her shapely legs around my waist. At this moment, I know with bone-deep certainty that whatever happens next, whatever revenge my brother has planned, whatever mysteries surround the men who took Lilian—none of it matters as much as this.

As her.

Her silken pussy glides against my length, and a groan escapes me before I can stop it.

She knows exactly what she’s doing to me. The coy smile, the teasing movements, the way her eyes darken with lust when she feels how hard I am for her. It’s a power play, a reminder that she holds just as much control in this twisted game as I do.

Maybe more.

I lean in, nipping at her lower lip in gentle reprimand. “Careful, little sister,” I murmur against her mouth. “Keep testing me, and I might forget to play nice.”

Her grin only widens at the warning, a flash of white teeth and wicked intent. “Promise?”

A surprised laugh escapes me, genuine amusement mixing with the ever-present desire. This side of her, the bold seductress so at odds with the sweet girl I thought I knew—it’s as thrilling as it is unexpected.

I slide a hand between our bodies, fingers delving into slick heat, teasing her entrance with maddeningly light touches. She bucks against me, seeking more pressure, more friction, but I maintain the barely there caress until she’s panting with need.

“Aries, please...” The breathless words emerge desperate, and it’s music to my ears.

“Please what?” I prompt, circling her clit with the pad of my thumb, applying just enough pressure to make her gasp. “Tell me what you want, Lil. I need to hear you say it.”

Her eyes lock with mine, pupils blown wide with desire, cheeks flushed from more than just the heat of the shower. “I want you inside me. Now.”

The raw need in her voice, the unvarnished honesty of it, shatters the last of my restraint. I lift her higher, positioning her at my tip, holding her gaze as I slowly lower her onto my length.

Her tight, wet heat engulfs me, stealing my breath and short-circuiting rational thought. For a moment, I can only feel—the slick slide of our bodies joining, the clench of her muscles around me, the dig of her nails into my shoulders as she adjusts to the stretch.

“Fuck,” I groan, burying my face in the crook of her neck, fighting for control. “You feel so goddamn good.”

She clenches around me in response, a silent urge for more that I’m helpless to deny.

I begin to move, setting a slow, deep rhythm that has her head falling back against the tile, a low moan escaping her parted lips.

I watch her face as I thrust into her, cataloging every flicker of delight, every hitch in her breath, and committing it all to memory.

This moment, this joining, feels somehow inevitable, like every choice and circumstance in our lives has been leading us here, to this point of no return. There will be no going back from this, no pretending it didn’t happen or that it didn’t mean everything.

I increase my pace, driven by the sounds she’s making, the needy little whimpers and breathy sighs urging me on. Her hands roam my back, blunt nails scoring my skin, marking me as hers. As if there could be any doubt of my devotion, my obsession, after this.

“Harder,” she demands, voice rough with pleasure. “I won’t break.”

A growl rumbles up from my chest as I comply, slamming into her with near-bruising force. The primal part of me, the part that wants to claim and conquer and possess, roars in satisfaction at her surrender.

Her back arches off the wall as I drive into her relentlessly, the slap of wet skin on skin echoing obscenely in the small space. My mouth finds her breast, teeth grazing a pebbled nipple before soothing it with my tongue. She cries out sharply, fingers tangling in my hair to hold me in place.

“That’s it, baby,” I encourage, words muffled against her skin. “Let me hear you. Let him hear what he’s missing.”

The reminder of our audience, of Arson no doubt lingering just outside the door, only seems to heighten her arousal. Her inner muscles flutter around me, a telltale sign of her impending climax. I wedge a hand between us, finding her clit and rubbing in firm circles.

“Come for me, Lil,” I command, holding her gaze, refusing to let her look away. “I want to feel you.”

Her orgasm crashes over her like a tidal wave, her body tensing and shuddering in my arms as she clenches like a vise around my cock. I grit my teeth against the urge to follow her over, determined to draw this out, to make her come again on my tongue before I find my own release.

As the aftershocks subside, I ease out of her, lowering her gently to her feet. She sways slightly, hands braced on my chest for balance, a sated smile curving her well-kissed lips.

“My turn,” I murmur, sinking to my knees before her.

Her eyes widen as she realizes my intent, breath hitching in anticipation. I lift one of her legs over my shoulder, opening her to my hungry gaze. She’s glistening and swollen, the evidence of her arousal and my possession painting her inner thighs.

I lean in, inhaling the heady scent of her, letting it fill my lungs and fuel my desire. Then I put my mouth on her, licking a broad stripe up her slit, savoring the taste of her mixed with the faint saltiness of my own essence.

She gasps, fingers scrabbling for purchase on the slick shower walls as I begin to devour her in earnest. I use my lips and tongue to worship her, alternating long, slow licks with targeted flicks against her sensitive clit.

Her hips buck against my face, seeking more contact, more pressure, more of everything I’m giving her.

I slide two fingers inside her, curling them just so, stroking that spot that makes her see stars. She keens, a high, desperate sound that echoes off the bathroom tiles and sends a fresh surge of blood to my painfully hard cock.

“Aries,” she pants, my name a benediction on her lips. “Oh God, don’t stop...”

I double my efforts, sucking her clit between my lips as my fingers pump relentlessly into her dripping core. Her thighs begin to tremble, muscles quivering with the strain of staying upright. I wrap my free arm around her hips, holding her steady as I push her closer to the edge.

“Let go, Lil,” I urge, words vibrating against her most sensitive flesh. “I’ve got you. Just let go for me.”

With a choked cry, she does, her second orgasm ripping through her with stunning force.

I groan against her, the spasms of her release triggering my own without even touching myself like a fucking teenager.

I pull back just enough to watch her fall apart, committing the sight to memory, branding it into my brain.

As the last tremors fade, I press a final, gentle kiss to her center before rising to my feet. She sags against me, boneless and sated, a dreamy smile on her face. I hold her close, supporting her weight as the water continues to cascade over us, washing away the evidence of our coupling.

“That was...” She’s apparently at a loss for words.

“Yeah,” I agree, knowing exactly what she means. “It was.”

We stand there for a long moment, just holding each other, basking in the afterglow. The rest of the world, with all its complications and ugliness, feels far away, held at bay by the steam and the spray and the bubble of intimacy we’ve created.

But reality can only be ignored for so long. A sharp knock on the door shatters the illusion, Arson’s voice calling out with impatient annoyance.

“If you two are finished, we have things to discuss.”

I sigh, pressing a kiss to Lilian’s forehead before reaching past her to shut off the water. “To be continued,” I murmur against her lips, a promise and a plea all in one.

She nods, eyes dark with understanding and unspoken emotion. We disentangle slowly, every slide of skin on skin a renewed temptation to ignore the intrusion and lose ourselves in each other again. But the moment has passed, the real world crashing back in with jarring insistence.

I step out of the shower first, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around my waist before handing another to Lilian. She takes it with a grateful smile, drying off quickly and efficiently, all traces of the wanton seductress from moments ago hidden beneath a mask of composed detachment.

It’s a skill I recognize all too well, the ability to compartmentalize, to tuck away inconvenient feelings and desires behind a facade of control. I’ve spent my entire life perfecting that mask, wearing it like armor against the expectations and machinations of my family.

But with Lilian, the mask feels flimsy and transparent.

Like she can see right through to the broken, angry, wanting parts of me that I try so hard to hide.

It’s unsettling and exhilarating in equal measure, the idea that someone might know me so completely, might accept those dark corners without flinching.

I shake off the thought, focusing on the task at hand. Namely, dealing with my brother and whatever new complication he’s about to introduce into our already tangled web.

I dress quickly, not bothering with underwear or socks, just pulling on my jeans and T-shirt with sharp, efficient movements. Lilian does the same, slipping back into her own clothes, damp hair leaving wet patches on the thin fabric.

We exit the bathroom together, a united front against whatever waits on the other side of the door. Arson leans against the far wall, arms crossed, a knowing smirk playing at the corners of his mouth as he takes in our flushed faces and general state of disarray.

“Well, don’t you two look thoroughly…satisfied,” he drawls, the insinuation heavy in his tone.

I don’t rise to the bait, refusing to let him goad me into another display of temper. “What do you want, Arson?”

His expression sobers, the mocking amusement fading into something harder, more calculating. “We need to talk about Lilian’s mother. She’s been calling nonstop and texting your phone. I think Lilian needs to call her so she simmers the fuck down.”