“I’m tired, Nerissa. Tired of pretending. Of being afraid. I’ve lost control of everything. And all I could think of was coming here. Even if you hated me. Even if you kicked me out.”
“I don’t hate you,” Nerissa replies, and the truth of those words hits her hard. “I’m angry. Very angry. But I don’t hate you.”
They look at each other in the dim light of the living room, illuminated only by a floor lamp. There they are, two broken women, suspended at the lowest point of their lives. No titles. No spotless reputations. Just them.
Nerissa moves closer. She raises a hand and wipes a tear from Seraphina’s cheek with her thumb.
“Never make decisions for me again,” she whispers.
“I won’t,” Seraphina promises.
The kiss comes like an urgent need. Nerissa pushes Seraphina backward, forcing her to retreat until the backs of her legs hit the sofa and they both end up sprawled on the living room carpet. Nerissa immediately positions herself on top of her, feeling the executive’s body damp from the rain and trembling uncontrollably beneath hers.
Seraphina’s hands cling to her waist, digging her fingers in with blind force, as if she feared falling into the void if she let go. Nerissa feels the stinging pressure of her nails through the thin fabric of her T-shirt. A thick moan escapes her own throat when Seraphina bites her lower lip with rage, tingeing the kiss with a metallic, vivid taste.
“I need you,” Seraphina murmurs against her mouth, her eyes misty and fixed on hers. “Make me forget everything.”
Nerissa doesn’t respond with words. She jerks her head down and begins to trail her mouth along Seraphina’s neck, sucking on the skin chilled by the storm and savoring the salty trail of tears running down her temples. Her teeth dig into thebase of Seraphina’s neck, while her hands pull at Seraphina’s wet coat, opening it with clumsy, disjointed movements. The buttons on the white blouse give way, some scattering to the floor. The pale skin of her torso is exposed, moving to the rhythm of erratic breathing, framed by the black lace of her bra.
They tear off the rest of their clothes with savage impatience. Nerissa slides her body downward, making her way between Seraphina’s thighs. As she spreads her legs with her hands, she finds her soaking wet, hot, throbbing with excitement. Nerissa doesn’t use her hands; she buries her face directly between her legs.
Seraphina lets out a stifled cry, arching her pelvis upward as Nerissa’s tongue licks her from bottom to top with voracious hunger. The contrast of the surgeon’s hot mouth against her intimacy makes her tremble. Nerissa sucks her clitoris hard, using her lips and teeth to gently bite the swollen flesh, causing an electric pain that only fans the fire. Seraphina’s hands tangle in Nerissa’s hair, pulling it to press her closer to her sex, digging her nails into her scalp as her moans turn into ragged sobs. Every thrust of Nerissa’s tongue is a reminder that they are still alive, that the mud outside has not been able to touch what lies between them.
The orgasm hits Seraphina violently; her thighs tense against Nerissa’s shoulders, and she screams her name toward the living room ceiling, clawing at the carpet as her pelvis trembles in full spasm.
However, Nerissa doesn’t give her time to recover. The adrenaline and her own arousal, built up after Daphne’s slap and the hospital’s contempt, have her on the edge. She feels her own fluids sliding down her thighs and a painful pressure in her lower abdomen. She needs more.
She sits up on her knees, grabs Seraphina by the hips, and, with a firm, authoritative movement, forces her to roll onto her stomach, pushing her until she’s on all fours on the carpet. Seraphina obeys with a submissive moan, resting her forearms on the floor, offering herself completely.
Nerissa positions herself behind her. Gazing at Seraphina’s bare back, marked by her own fingers, unleashes a primal possessiveness. She slides two fingers inside her from behind in one swift motion, seeking the depths with a relentless, hard, almost punishing rhythm.
“Fuck… Yes, like that. Harder,” Seraphina begs, her voice breaking, thrusting her pelvis backward to take the thrusts deeper, seeking the friction of Nerissa’s hand against her skin.
Nerissa fucks her mercilessly, moving her arm with a savage rhythm, deaf to any logic other than that of possessing the woman who has destroyed her world in an attempt to save her. With her free hand, she grabs Seraphina by the hair, pulling her back slightly to force her to lift her face and bite her shoulder as she penetrates her. The room fills with the wet sound of friction and the panting breaths of both of them. Pleasure shoots up Nerissa’s spine like a high-voltage shock. She is so tightly pressed against her, so lubricated, that the friction of her own sex against Seraphina’s body brings her to the edge of the abyss.
Seraphina’s second orgasm comes at the same time as Nerissa’s. The executive’s vaginal walls contract with brutal force around the surgeon’s fingers, trapping them. Nerissa lets out a hoarse moan, sinking into her one last time as she comes violently, trembling on her lover’s back.
The two collapse together onto the carpet, on their sides, sweaty, panting, and with their legs tangled. Seraphina’s breath is a hot puff against Nerissa’s neck. Little by little, both of theirheart rates begin to stabilize, and Nerissa feels the executive’s tears wet her skin once more. But this time they are different. There is no panic in them; they are tears of absolute relief, the weeping of someone who has let go of a weight that was killing her.
Nerissa wraps her arms around her, pressing Seraphina’s back against her chest, fitting them together like two broken pieces being forcibly joined.
“I’m not going to let you go,” Nerissa whispers into Seraphina’s ear, tightening her grip around her belly. “Tomorrow we’ll start fighting. Together.”
Seraphina nods silently, turning her head slightly to kiss Nerissa’s hand, the same one that still bears the mark of both of them.
Chapter 24
“We’re going to bring him down, I promise.”
The fourth night after everything that happened unfolds in Nerissa Ashcombe’s apartment with a tense stillness, broken only by the occasional clatter of keys. Within those walls, the space has become a makeshift refuge where the outside world feels distant and hostile. Seraphina has been sitting at the computer for over six hours.
Her fingers move quickly across the keyboard, though loose strands of hair fall across her forehead and her reddened eyes reflect her accumulated exhaustion. Beneath that façade of absolute concentration, the emotional turmoil of the last few days still beats relentlessly, a wound that will be almost impossible to heal. However, alongside that pain has also emerged the need to find a solution, even though she can no longer change certain things.
Nerissa watches her from the kitchenette as she slowly stirs a cup of coffee neither of them needs. The gray sweatshirt she’s wearing is too big for her and gives her a vulnerable appearance that contrasts with her usual poise. They’ve only managed to get a few hours of sleep each night since everything blew up.
“You need to rest a little,” Nerissa murmurs, approaching from behind. She places a hand on the back of the chair and feelsSeraphina’s muscles tense for a moment before relaxing beneath her touch. “You’ve been sitting there all day.”
Seraphina lets out a long sigh and runs a hand over her face, rubbing her eyes wearily.
