He's right. I can feel it building again, the tension coiling low in my belly. But this one's different—bigger, more intense. The kind that might actually break me.
“Silas,” I gasp. “I'm?—”
“I know.” His forehead presses against mine, blue eyes boring into me. “I can feel it. Let go, Nova. Let go and trust me to catch you.”
Trust. The word stops me cold. I don't trust anyone. Haven't in years. But the way he's looking at me, the way he's holding me together while taking me apart…
The second orgasm destroys me.
This time, I don't just scream—I sob. The pleasure is so intense it is almost overwhelming, wringing sounds from my throat that I've never made before. My entire body shakes, overwhelmed by sensation as I drench his cock.
Silas follows me over the edge with a roar that probably rattles the walls. His release triggers aftershocks that leave me trembling, completely spent.
For long moments, we stay frozen like that—him buried inside me, both of us breathing hard. The vanity mirrors around us reflects our joined bodies, and I catch a glimpse of what we look like together.
Wrecked. Completely and utterly wrecked.
“Fuck,” he finally breathes, pulling back to look at me. “That was...”
“Yeah.” I can't manage anything more coherent.
He helps me down from the vanity on unsteady legs, both of us moving carefully. My skirt falls back into place, but there's no hiding what just happened. My hair's a disaster, my lips are swollen, and I'm pretty sure I have fingerprint bruises forming on my thighs.
“That's a lost cause,” he says, gesturing to the torn lace on the floor.
“You said you'd get me more.” I try to sound bossy, but the effect is ruined by the breathless quality of my voice.
“I'll get you a whole wardrobe.” He tucks himself back into his pants, fingers still slightly unsteady. “Anything you want.”
The casualness of the offer catches me off guard. Like buying me lingerie is as simple as picking up groceries. Like this—whatever this was—means more than just scratching an itch.
The thought should terrify me. Should send me running for the door.
Instead, it makes me want to stay.
Which is exactly why I need to go.
“I should get back to my trailer,” I say, gathering up the scattered makeup from the vanity. “Long day tomorrow.”
He catches my wrist—the same way he did earlier, gentle but implacable. “Nova.”
“What?”
“Look at me.”
I do, and immediately regret it. Those eyes see too much, understand too much. He's going to ask questions I can't answer, make demands I can't meet.
Instead, he simply says, “Sweet dreams.”
He releases my wrist and steps back, giving me space to leave. No pressure, no demands for promises or explanations. Just that simple benediction and the lingering heat in his gaze.
I make it to the door before I turn back.
“Silas?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. For... for letting me forget. Even if it was just for a little while.”
