Silence fell between us, heavy and electric. We stood there, inches apart, breathing the same air, caught between anger and desire, sense and impulse. Neither of us backing down or walking away.
“Take those fucking clothes off.” His voice was low, but that demand came out like a threat.
“No,” I said quietly, forcing steel into my voice. “You don’t get to…”
He was on me before I could finish, gripping the hem of my shirt and yanking it up over my head. Then, his lips found my neck, jaw, and collarbone. “You don’t want this shit?” he asked against my skin, voice deep, almost taunting. “Tell me to stop then.”
I hated how silent I was. Hated that I didn’t shove him off. Hated that my arms were wrapping around his neck while my mouth said, “We shouldn’t be doing this.”
“I didn’t ask what weshouldbe doing,” he muttered, backing me up until the backs of my knees hit the bed. “I asked if you wanted it.”
He kissed me again, slower this time and deeper like he knew what he was doing to me. I was trembling, body screaming yes, even as my mind tried to drag me back. And I stopped thinking the second I was on my back with his head between my legs.
His mouth wasruthless. Tongue slow at first, teasing my clit until my legs were trembling. Then deeper, wetter, sucking and lapping like he missed the taste of me. I threw my head back and let out a raw moan that echoed through the suite.
“God…”
He groaned likehewas the one being pleasured, gripping my thighs tighter, pulling me closer to his face, burying himself in my pussy like it was his last meal. His tongue slid down, circling, teasing, flicking back up and sucking hard until I was clawing at his shoulders, cursing his name.
“Shit, Nyce… I hate… you.”
He kept going until I broke apart on his tongue, back arched, hands fisted in his hair, gasping and shaking, tears slipping down my cheeks without permission. Not just from the orgasm but from everything. From the confusion. From the fire. I was still moaning his name when he stood up, licking his lips, and I saw his dick hard as steel, pressing through his sweats.
I was breathless. Nyce leaned down again, his voice gravel in my ear. “Now tell me you don’t fucking want me.”
Climbing off the bed, I watched him pull his hoodie and white tee off. His eyes never left mine as he dropped his sweatpants. Every movement was deliberate, even as hisbeautifully sculpted body covered mine like he was claiming lost territory. Skin on skin. Ink against softness. Heat is bleeding between us.
He slid in slowly, and we both moaned. My nails gripped his back, and his mouth fell to my neck. He moved inside me with a slow, deep rhythm that had me blinking up at the ceiling like I couldn’t believe this was happening again. Like I wasn’t the same woman who’d told him to leave me.
“Fuck, Princess,” Nyce grunted as his hips rolled slowly, grinding deep and forcing me to feel every inch, every stroke. He kissed my mouth between strokes and rested his forehead on mine. Then, he laced his fingers with mine.
My eyes rolled towards the ceiling. “Oh my God… what the…” Our hands pressed into the sheets above my head. I blinked up at him through the haze and saw everything written in his face. “I hate you for making me feel for you,” I whispered through clenched teeth, voice cracking.
His jaw flexed. He thrust deep, holding there. “You think I don’t hate that shit too?” he said, breath shaky. “But here we are.” Another slow thrust. And another. I arched against him, tears slipping down my cheeks. He kissed them away. Then he whispered, “You don’t belong to that nigga Brandon. Not in this lifetime. You hear me, Princess?”
I tried to shake my head as he stroked deeper.
“Say it,” he gritted.
I gasped, “Then… who do I belong to?”
He kissed me hard then, groaning into my mouth, his rhythm shifting, pace picking up like something in him snapped loose. And I didn’t stop him. I welcomed it. My legs wrapped around him tighter. And as he released my hands, my nails scratched down his back. My moans got louder. His name kept leaving my mouth over and over until I was unraveling beneath him, body trembling, mind spinning.
He followed me over the edge, groaning low, burying his face in my neck as he came hard inside me, chest heaving. “Fuck, Princess. Fuck…”
“I don’t trust you,” I whispered through a sob.
“I don’t need you to trust me right now,” he said, his lips brushing my jaw. “Just need you to feel me.”
I did. I felt every single inch.
