For one heartbeat I thought Aegis had found LyX burning a hole in my pocket and everything was finished but Micheal didn't flinch.
He caught my wrist in one smooth, unbreakable grip, yanked me against his chest.
"Don't," he said, low and lethal, his lips brushing my ear. "Move."
His other hand was already moving, thumb flying across his phone. My panic spiked ;police, cuffs, prison.But the red washed away with a single silent command. Golden city light flooded back in.
The danger didn't leave the room It transferred.
From the screens straight into the space between our bodies.He dropped the phone which accidentally hit the marble floor and cracked but that was the least he could worry about.
His eyes locked on mine, black and blazing.
He dragged me so close I felt the thunder of his heartbeat through his shirt, turned me, tied my hands with the silk tie lying on the sofa.
Memory slammed into me.I was sixteen.
He was older .One stolen night in his childhood bedroom while the house slept. He'd kissed the bruises on my ribs, whispered no one would ever hurt me again. Then he'd laid me on sheets that smelled like summer rain and teenage secrets, spread my thighs with shaking hands, and took my virginity so gently I cried into his mouth.
Before morning I went home before he woke up..
By nightfall he was gone.
No note.
No trace.
Just gone.
Until tonight.
His grip tightened, thumb pressing the frantic pulse under my jaw.Tears burned my eyes.
"I thought you left because I wasn't enough."
A broken sound tore out of him.
He spun me, slammed my front to the cold glass, kicked my boots apart so wide my thighs burned.
The city glittered thirty-nine floors below, but all I felt was him, heat, fury, heartbreak.
His belt hissed free.
The leather whispered once against his palm, then snapped around my wrists, binding them tight at the small of my back. His bite made me gasp.
"Say it," he snarled against my ear, teeth scraping. "Say you're mine. Say it like you did when you were sixteen and begging me to ruin you."
"I'm yours," I sobbed. "I was always yours, Micheal, even when you left me."
He made a wounded sound and ripped my shirt off. My bra snapped in half, tossed aside. Cool air hit my skin; my nipples turned to diamonds against the glass.His palm cracked across my ass, sharp, perfect sting. I cried out, arched into it.
Again.
Again.
Each slap blooming fire until I dripped down my thighs, pain and pleasure braided so tight I couldn't tell them apart.
He dropped to his knees behind me, spread my cheeks with rough hands, and buried his face between my thighs from behind.
No warning.
Just wet, filthy, open-mouthed worship spearing deep, nose pressed to my clit, eating me like he was trying to drink ten lost years in one savage gulp.
I screamed his name, wrists jerking against the belt, boots slipping as my legs tried to close. He pinned one thigh higher against the glass, opened me wider, and kept devouring until I came so hard my vision blacked out and tears streamed down my face.
He rose, chest heaving.
Zipper rasped.
The blunt, scalding head of his cock nudged my entrance.
"Look at me," he demanded, voice shredded.
I turned my cheek to the glass.
His eyes were wet.
"I never stopped loving you," he said, and slammed into me in one brutal thrust.
The stretch stole my breath, thick, unforgiving, perfect.
He didn't give me time to adjust. He fucked me like punishment and prayer combined, deep, punishing strokes that rattled the glass and drove the air from my lungs.
Every thrust slammed my bound wrists higher between my shoulder blades, arching me until my breasts dragged across the window, nipples screaming from the cold.
His hand fisted my hair, wrenched my head back so he could bite down on my neck hard enough to bruise, hard enough to mark.
"Feel that?" he snarled, hips snapping so hard my teeth clacked. "That's ten years of missing you. Ten years of hating myself for leaving."
I sobbed his name, pussy clenching around him, tears dripping off my chin onto the marble far below.
He pulled out abruptly. I whimpered at the loss only to be spun, shoved down until my knees hit the cold floor.
He freed his cock, angry, flushed, dripping with us, and painted my lips with it.
"Open."
I did.
He fed himself into my mouth slow, reverent, eyes locked on mine as tears rolled down my cheeks. I took him deep, gagging, drooling, tasting us and every broken promise.
When he pulled free, strings of spit connecting us, he hauled me up, spun me again, bent me over the back of the leather couch, wrists still bound, face pressed to cool hide.
Then he took me from behind, back shots so deep I felt him in my soul.Each thrust jolted through my entire body, hips slamming against my ass, the wet slap of skin echoing like gunshots. One hand gripped the belt like reins, the other snaked around to rub my clit in ruthless circles.
"Come for me, baby," he growled, voice cracking with emotion. he "Come while I fill you up and never let you go again."
I shattered, sobbing, screaming, pussy gushing around him so hard it splashed his thighs. He followed with a broken roar, burying himself to the root and spilling inside me in thick, endless pulses, hips jerking as he emptied ten years of longing into my body.
He didn't pull out.
He collapsed over me, chest heaving against my bound arms, lips brushing the tears on my cheek.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, voice raw. "I'm so fucking sorry I left. But I'm never leaving again."
He untied my wrists with shaking hands, massaged the red marks, then turned me and kissed every tear, every bruise, every inch of skin he'd marked.
When he finally carried me to his bed, still buried inside me, still leaking down my thighs, he laid me down like I was something holy and breakable.
Against my lips he made a new vow, quiet, fierce, unbreakable:
"You're home now, Layla. And this time, I burn the whole world before I ever let you go."
And just as I started to coil around him,the digital watch on my wrist lit up .
"I SEE YOU "
—AGENT MILLER ,FBI.