Page 38 of Watch Me Burn

She shudders, curses, and tries to twist away but I hold her still. The sounds coming out of her hit me like a fucking drug.

“Aaron—” My name falls from her mouth like it doesn’t belong to me anymore. Like it’s hers to use however she wants.

My thumb rubs tight, merciless circles against her clit and her entire body bucks into mine, chasing what I’m barely giving.

“You don’t get to come yet. You haven’t earned it.”

“Fuck you.”

“You wish.”

I pull my hand away and she lets out a strangled moan. “You’re a sadist.”

“No,” I say, eyes locking on hers as I drop my pants. “I’m consumed. You’re in my head, in my dreams. I can’t fucking escape you.”

Her stare drops to my cock—hard, leaking, and ready. She reaches for me as I drag her down by the hips, line myself up, and slam into her.

She cries out— a pure, raw sound—and arches off the shelf. Her blade digs into my side. She’s clawing at my back. I don’t care. I want her to scar me. I want proof that this happened.

I drive into her again. And again. Each thrust is brutal, punishing. I want her to feel this tomorrow. I want everyone to see it on her face.

“I need you,” she gasps. Her hips grind down to meet me, and fuck…it’s too good, too tight, too much.

Every time I push into her, something inside me fractures. She’s the craving I can’t outrun. The fire I keep touching just to prove I’m still burning.

“Look at me.”

She tries to turn her head. I grab her chin, force her eyes to meet mine.

“Open your eyes. Watch exactly who’s fucking this tight little pussy. Who’s splitting you open like you begged for it.”

She moans, the sound helpless and filthy, and when her gaze finally lifts—Jesus.

Her pupils are blown wide with lust, lips red and swollen from biting them. Her eyes hold mine like she’s about to consume me whole.

“I know exactly who you are. And you hate that I see you,” she whispers, voice trembling.

Her words nearly undo me.

But I can’t stop now.

“Do you?”

My heart pounds like a war drum, the question cracking something open inside me. I grab her wrist and slam it flat against my chest, forcing her to feel it—every violent beat.

“All I know is that I can’t stop this. I don’t want to.”

Something shifts. Her breath hitches and for a fleeting, dangerous second, she kisses me. Not with rage. Not with teeth. But need. Soft, surrendering. Like she’s letting me in too far and doesn’t care what it costs.

I slow my thrusts. Drag every inch through her wet pussy. Her body trembles beneath the pressure, fluttering around me like she’s barely holding on.

Then she snaps.

A wicked gleam lights her eyes as she drops her legs and flips the script, pushing me down with sudden force. She straddles me, feral and gleaming with sweat. Her fingers wrap around my throat. Not enough to choke, just enough to own.

Her mouth ghosts over mine. Her voice? Fucking lethal.

“I’m going to drain you. Every last fucking drop.”

The words short-circuit something in me.

That’s it. No more softness. No illusion of control.

“You want everything?” I snarl, grabbing her throat and flipping her beneath me. I pin both her wrists above her head with one hand. “Then you’ll get it.”

I slam into her without rhythm or mercy, driving her up the rug with every punishing thrust. Her cries tear through the air as she wraps her legs around me, heels digging into my spine. But I don’t stop devouring her.

My free hand slides between us, rubbing vicious circles over her clit. She thrashes, bucking beneath me, trying to flee the pleasure, but I keep her pinned.

“You wanted to drain me?” I whisper, breath ragged at her ear. “Then fucking take it. But I’m not stopping until you’re shaking so hard you forget your fucking name.”

Her moans break into sobs of pleasure as her body begins to convulse beneath me. Her walls tighten, pulsing hard around my cock, but I don’t stop. I don’t allow myself to join her, not yet.

One orgasm hits her, sharp and explosive. I feel her clench down, feel her cry out against my neck, but I don’t stop.

I keep driving into her.

“Too much,” she gasps, eyes rolling back. “Aaron…fuck, I?—”

“No.” My hand closes around her throat again, not in anger. “You asked for everything. You’ll take everything.”

I change the angle and fuck her harder. Faster. Her whole body trembles beneath me, writhing with overstimulation as she shatters again—feral, helpless, and fucking beautiful.

Her tears blur into sweat. Her voice is wrecked. She clings to me like she’s drowning.

My name is a chant and a curse all in one.

And that’s when I finally lose it.

I shove deep and let go, spilling inside her with a groan that punches out of me like a confession. Her name tears from my lips like a surrender.

And for a long, shuddering moment, the world goes completely still.

Just breath. Skin. Heartbeats pounding in tandem.

Two monsters, wrecked and clinging to one another in the dark.

She’s limp beneath me. Eyes wide and blinking like she doesn’t know how we got here.

Fuck , neither do I.

She presses her forehead to mine, skin slick, breath shaky. Her lips part, but no sound comes.

My throat aches from her grip. From what it meant. From the way I let her do it. Wanted her to.

And that truth terrifies me more than any trigger I’ve ever pulled. More than any threat I’ve faced.

Because I spent my whole life building walls, creating a system no one could breach. Controlled. Calculated. Untouchable.

Caterina didn’t just slip through the cracks.

She shattered them.

And she did it like it was inevitable.

Like it was easy.

Her eyes flutter open, and for a moment, I don’t see what she’s done. I don’t see her last name. Don’t see her enemies.

I just see her—raw, quiet, too fucking human. That undoes something inside me I didn’t know was still whole.

“Aaron,” she whispers.

My name, barely a breath. A question. A need I don’t know how to answer.

Because I’m drowning too. Not fighting it. Not even trying.

The rules I built my life around? Torched.

The man I used to be? Dead and buried.

And with her breath still clinging to my skin—jasmine, sweat, sin—I realize that I’ve already crossed the point of no return.

I thought I wanted to break her.

But she shattered me first and smiled like it was foreplay.

One more touch.

One more breath.

And I’ll throw myself straight into the chaos she became.

I drag my thumb across her bottom lip, watching her tremble. She knows this isn’t obsession anymore. Not even hate.

It’s something violent and sacred in the way only ruin can be.

She’s not my enemy.

She’s the goddamn catalyst.

The fire.

The thing I should have run from and begged for in the same breath.

And the worst part?

I want her.

I want Caterina Mortelle .

Because maybe we were never meant to destroy each other.

Maybe we’re something far worse:

Meant for each other.