Did I cry like this the first time you saved me? Huddled in your coat, weeping secretly, gratefully?
Kayden finally broke the kiss, and I gasped, my lungs greedily sucking in air.
"Sorry..." His forehead pressed against mine, his breath scorching hot. "Sorry I got here too late."
"Not too late," I said, my voice still trembling. "As long as you came."
As long as you came.
His lips found my neck then, soft at first, trailing kisses down the sensitive column of my throat. I clung to him desperately, arms wrapping tight around his shoulders, soaking in the solid heat of his body against mine—real, undeniable. He was here, truly here, not some phantom from my memories. Fresh tears stung my eyes, hot and insistent, as his mouth explored my skin, each kiss a stark reminder of how deeply I'd missed this—missed him.
"Kayden," I whispered, arching into his touch, my fingers digging into his back. The drugs heightened every sensation, but this longing? It went far deeper, seventeen years of suppressed love erupting uncontrollably. I knew I shouldn't do this, knew we were tangled in a web of conflicts and heartache, but in this moment, none of it mattered. I needed him—body, soul, everything—like oxygen. Like I'd perish if I didn't dissolve completely into him.
He pulled back just a fraction, his eyes dark with barely leashed restraint, golden flecks flickering like dying embers. "We should stop," he murmured, voice gravelly, his hands gentle on my waist. "This isn't right. You're not yourself."
But his touch told a different story, thumbs tracing soft circles that sent electric sparks racing through me. He was fighting it, I could sense it—the tension in his muscles, the battle against his urge to claim and ravage. Pity and love clashed in his gaze, making him handle me with care, almost tenderly.
I didn't want tenderness. Not now. The fire inside demanded more—pain, intensity, something to match the chaos raging within. I shifted in his lap, grinding against him deliberately, feeling his hard length press back insistently. "Don't stop," I breathed, nipping at his earlobe. "I need you to... hurt me a little. Make me feel it all."
His breath hitched sharply, eyes flashing with that perilous gold. "Layla, fuck... don't say things like that." But his grip on my hipstightened, fingers pressing harder, as if he was already losing the fight.
"Please," I begged, my voice cracking, guiding his head down to my collarbone. "I want it rough. Take me like you own me." It was the drugs speaking, or maybe it wasn't—maybe it was the dam of denial finally bursting. I was offering myself as a sacrifice, desperate to be consumed in his flames, to melt away in his embrace.
That broke him. His control shattered with a guttural growl. "Goddamn it," he rasped, shoving me back against the seat, his body caging mine in the tight confines of the car. His mouth descended again, not to my lips, but lower—teeth grazing my neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks, to bruise. I gasped, the sharp sting twisting into exquisite pleasure, my hands fisting in his shirt, ripping at the remaining buttons.
"Strip," he commanded, his voice low and dominant, the Alpha in him rising to the surface. His hands tore at my top, yanking it open impatiently, exposing my bra. He didn't hesitate, shoving the lace aside, his mouth latching onto my breast, tongue swirling roughly over the nipple, teeth nipping just on the edge of pain.
I moaned, arching up into him, my body ablaze. "Yes... like that." The roughness felt cathartic, like he was finally claiming what we'd both denied for so long. His initial pity transformed into pure possession, yet beneath it, I felt his love—the way he paused to kiss the tender swell softly before biting again, ever careful not to truly hurt me.
He shifted, one hand trailing down my stomach, fingers deftly undoing my pants and shoving them down my thighs along with my panties. The cool car air hit my bare skin, but his heat chased it away immediately. "Spread your legs," he ordered, voice thick with hunger, his eyes locked on mine, burning with a potent mix of desperation and adoration.
I complied, trembling, my thighs parting as his fingers found my core, stroking roughly, circling my clit with firm, insistent pressure. "So fucking wet for me," he growled, plunging two fingers inside, curling them harshly, pumping in and out with relentless force. Thestretch burned, but I craved it—the bite of pain that sharpened every sensation, making it all feel vividly real.
"Kayden... harder," I pleaded, my hips bucking against his hand, nails raking down his back. Tears escaped again, not from pain, but from the overwhelming torrent—the bitter knowledge that this was wrong, that regret loomed on the horizon, but damn it, it felt like the apocalypse, and I wanted to burn out in his arms.
He cursed softly, pulling his fingers free only to replace them with his mouth. His tongue dove in, lapping greedily, teeth grazing my folds as he sucked hard on my clit, utterly merciless. I cried out, hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, grinding shamelessly against his face. He devoured me like a man starved, his growls vibrating through my core, his restraint fraying with every desperate sound I made.
But he was still holding back somehow—I could feel it, his touches laced with that underlying tenderness, even in his fervor. I needed him to snap completely. "Fuck me," I demanded, voice hoarse, yanking his head up. "Now. Rough. Don't you dare hold back."
His eyes darkened further, gold consuming everything, and he surged upward, shoving his pants down just enough to free his cock—hard, thick, veins throbbing. The sight made my mouth water with need. "You asked for it," he snarled, positioning himself at my entrance, then thrusting in with one brutal, unyielding stroke.
I screamed, the sudden fullness ripping through me, pain and ecstasy blurring into one. He didn't give me a moment to adjust, pulling out nearly all the way before slamming back in, setting a punishing rhythm that rocked the entire car. The windows fogged up, the space echoing with the slick, wet sounds of our bodies slamming together.
"Take it," he commanded, one hand wrapping around my throat—not squeezing, but holding firm, possessively. His other hand pinned my wrists above my head, hips snapping forward with brutal precision, each thrust deeper, harder. "You're mine, Layla. You've always fucking been mine."
I nodded wildly, completely lost in the haze, my body clenchingaround him, chasing the rising tide. "Yours... oh God, yes." The raw dominance unlocked something primal in me, my wolf urging submission, letting him take control. Tears streamed down my face as he pounded into me, his love evident in how he angled his hips perfectly to hit that sweet spot, even while using me like he owned every inch of my body.
He leaned down, claiming my mouth in a bruising kiss, our tongues clashing fiercely as he drove us both to the brink. "I love you," he gasped against my lips, the words raw and unguarded. "Fuck, I've always loved you." It was a whirlwind of pity and passion, his thrusts growing erratic, losing all rhythm in the frenzy.
That confession shattered me. Seventeen years of pent-up longing spilled out in sobs intertwined with moans, my body arching as climax hit like a tidal wave. "Kayden!" I shattered around him, clenching tight, dragging him down with me.
He followed with a primal roar, burying himself deep, spilling hot and endless inside me, his hips jerking through the release. We collapsed in a tangle, breaths heaving, bodies slick with sweat.
For a fleeting moment, the world vanished—just us, in this stolen bubble, pretending our problems didn't exist. But deep down, I knew this was our end-of-days entanglement, fierce and ephemeral, before reality came crashing back.
He held me close, lips brushing soft kisses against my temple, the roughness replaced by tender care. "I'm sorry," he whispered again, but I shook my head, burrowing into his chest, not ready to confront what came next. Just this once, let me stay lost in him.
Chapter Sixteen
