I step forward, forcing her to walk backward. One step. Two steps.
Her back collides with the cold, unyielding steel of the bunker’s reinforced wall. The impact makes her breath hitch, but she doesn't try to escape. I follow her down, pressing my heavy frame entirely against hers, effectively pinning her between the impenetrable metal and the unstoppable force of my obsession.
I drop my right hand, my palm sliding down the outside of her thigh, over the thin, dark fabric of her leggings. She is trembling so violently it feels like she might shatter into a million pieces.
I slide my hand around to the back of her knee and pull her leg up, wrapping it around my hip.
The movement slots my hips perfectly against the aching, desperate center of her body. She cries out—a raw, visceralsound of pure shock and unadulterated need—as the heavy friction of my arousal grinds directly against her heat.
"Thayer," she begs, the word a completely shattered plea.
"Tell me what you want," I murmur, my lips brushing against the shell of her ear, my hot breath making her squirm against the steel wall. I slide my hand under the hem of my oversized t-shirt that she is wearing.
The moment my rough, calloused fingers make contact with the bare, feverish skin of her upper thigh, she completely short-circuits. Her nails dig into my shoulders, her head tossing back against the metal as she desperately chases the oxygen I keep stealing from her.
"Please," she whimpers, her hips instinctively bucking against me, a microscopic, deeply betraying movement that nearly snaps my control in half.
"Please what, little bird?" I taunt, my voice a dark, lethal purr. I drag my fingertips agonizingly slowly up the back of her thigh, mapping the soft, flawless curve of her flesh, edging closer and closer to the delicate white lace of her underwear. "You want me to stop? You want me to step back and leave you alone in the dark?"
"No," she sobs, the denial completely immediate, completely desperate. "No, don't stop. Don't leave me."
The admission is a shot of pure adrenaline straight to my heart.
Don't leave me.Her father left her. He abandoned her to a pack of wolves without a second glance. I am the wolf that caught her, but I am the only one who is never going to let her go.
My fingers brush the edge of the damp lace between her legs.
Sybil arches off the wall with a sharp, breathless cry, her entire body bowing into my touch. The heat radiating from her is absolute. She is completely soaked for me, completely desperate for a release from the agonizing tension I have been carefully building for twenty-four hours.
I cup her entirely through the lace, my large hand possessing her completely. I apply a slow, heavy pressure with the heel of my palm, grinding my thumb directly over the swollen, ultra-sensitive bundle of nerves hidden beneath the fabric.
She shatters almost instantly.
The orgasm rips through her with terrifying violence. Her internal muscles clamp down hard, her thighs squeezing tightly against my hand and my hip. She screams my name into the quiet bunker, a ragged, beautiful sound that I absorb entirely into my own body. She goes completely rigid against the steel wall, her nails leaving bloody half-moons in the skin of my back, before she collapses entirely, her legs giving out beneath her.
I catch her. I wrap both of my arms around her limp, trembling body, holding her securely against my chest as the aftershocks violently wrack her frame. I bury my face in her neck, breathing in the scent of her climax, my own body screaming in agonizing protest at the denial of my own release.
But I am a patient man. I have waited six years. I will wait until she begs me to take it all.
I hold her against the wall for five minutes, listening as her rapid, panicked breathing slowly evens out into deep, exhausted sighs. Her face is buried in the hollow of my shoulder, her tears soaking into my skin. She is completely ruined. Completely mine.
Then, the absolute worst sound in the world shatters the quiet intimacy of the vault.
A harsh, grating buzz echoes from the encrypted intercom system mounted on the command console across the room. The biometric lock on the main doors flashes a blinding, urgent red.
I don't move. I close my eyes, a dark, murderous rage instantly spiking in my blood. I tighten my grip on Sybil, refusing to acknowledge the intrusion.
The intercom buzzes again. Louder. More insistent.
"Ignore it," Sybil whispers against my collarbone, her voice frail, her fingers curling tighter into my hair. The fear is immediately creeping back into her tone. She knows what that buzzer means. It means the world above is bleeding, and it demands the monster.
"I can't," I grind out, the words tasting like battery acid on my tongue.
I gently disentangle her arms from my neck. I set her down on her feet. Her legs wobble dangerously, forcing her to lean heavily against the steel wall for support. She looks up at me, her blue eyes wide, the fresh, dark bruise of my mouth standing out starkly against her pale throat.
I turn my back on her before the sight completely breaks my resolve. I cross the bunker with heavy, lethal strides, reaching the command console. I slam my fist onto the blinking green button.
"This better be the end of the fucking world, Dante," I snarl into the microphone.
