22. Shiloh

Chapter twenty-two

Shiloh

My legs wobble like they're fresh out of a blender. I yank down my skirt, flustered and flushed from what just happened between us.

Liam, with his usual control slipping, is stuffing himself back into his pants. His gaze locks onto me, intense and raw, as if I'm the answer to questions he's never dared to ask.

I part my lips, a torrent of confessions teetering on the tip of my tongue—I want more, I've always wanted...

But he cuts through the moment, his head tilting toward the stairs.

"Naked. In my bed. Now," he commands, voice gravelly with lust. He points upstairs, "Room's at the top of the stairs, to the left.”

My chest heaves with a shaky breath; this is madness, thrilling and terrifying all at once. Without a word, I step by him, my heels clicking against the marble floor. I ascend the stairs, each step lighter than the last, propelled by an intoxicating mix of desire and a sense of inevitability.

The staircase spirals upward, each step a silent drumroll to the inevitable. My gaze drifts along the walls adorned with exquisite artwork—abstract forms and vibrant colors that tell stories without faces. No photographs hang there, only paintings that hint at Liam's taste for beauty and complexity.

Maybe his mother made them. He said she’s an artist. It feels like a peek into what he likes, the real him.

It’s dangerous… intoxicating.

I want to know everything about him.

I reach the landing, and his instructions echo in my head: straight to the left. The door is ajar, framing a room that exudes meticulous order—the bed made so neatly it could be a display in a showroom. I pause for a heartbeat, listening as Liam's footsteps ascend behind me, a steady reminder of what's to come.

With hurried, clumsy movements, I kick off my heels, letting them thud against the plush carpet. My hands fumble to slide down my soaked panties, peeling them away with an urgency that leaves my skin tingling. They join my shoes somewhere in the room, discarded evidence of our reckless abandon.

My fingers wrestle with the zipper at the back of my dress, but it's a stubborn adversary, refusing to yield. Then, suddenly, warmth radiates from behind me, and I freeze as Liam's deft fingers brush mine aside.

He pulls down the zipper with one fluid motion, and a gasp shudders out of me, not just from his touch, but from the realization that he's shed his clothes too—his bare chest pressing against my back, searing through the thin fabric of my dress.

"Better?" His voice rumbles like distant thunder, close enough to send tremors through me.

"So much better," I whisper back, my breath hitching as I feel the undeniable hardness of him nudging against me, insistent and promising.

The tension coils within me, tighter and tighter—more than anticipation, more than desire. It's a necessity, raw and unfiltered, pulling me toward the precipice once again.

Shrugging off the long sleeves of my dress, I let the fabric pool at my feet, a silent surrender to the inevitable. The air is cool on my flushed skin, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from Liam's body as he circles the bed.

The faint rustle of the to-go bag follows him, an oddly domestic sound in the midst of our charged atmosphere. Curiosity nips at me, but it's quickly eclipsed by my racing heart and shallow breaths.

"Look at me, Shiloh."

His command is soft, almost gentle, yet it carries an authority that has me obeying without question. I look up to find Liam, now the very picture of raw masculinity against the crisp white of his pillows.

He's leisurely stroking himself, eyes locked on me with an intensity that leaves no room for doubt. He's every inch the powerful billionaire who commands boardrooms, yet here, he seems to command even more—my will, my body, my very soul.

"Come here." His voice is a low drawl, heavy with desire.

He pats his thigh—an invitation or perhaps a summons—as if he's carved out a place just for me. There's no hesitation left in me; my feet sink into the plush carpet as I move toward the bed, drawn to him by a force greater than gravity.

I climb onto the mattress, the smooth sheets beneath me a stark contrast to the storm raging inside. Liam's gaze doesn't waver, darkening with an unspoken promise that sends a shiver of anticipation down my spine.

"Sit," he says, his voice barely above a whisper, yet it resonates through me like a command from on high.

I close the distance between us, positioning myself over him. The heat from his body beckons me closer, inviting me to merge with him once again.

My heart thunders in my ears, drowning out all else—the world beyond this room, the consequences of our actions, everything but the singular focus of the man before me, and the inevitable collision course we're on.

I straddle his legs, my breath hitching as I lower myself onto him. A moan escapes me, unbidden but honest, as I'm filled again by him. Every inch of him inside me stirs a blend of familiarity and fresh desire that courses through my veins.

"God, Shiloh," he mutters, his hands on my hips guiding me, encouraging me to take what we both need. "The sounds you make... I needed you naked in my bed for them, not at some damn restaurant."

A playful smirk dances on his lips as he leans back against the pillows, propped up by his elbows. His eyes are locked onto mine, a silent challenge, a dare to break away from the intensity of our connection. But I can't—I won't—not when every fiber of my being is tethered to his.

Then, breaking our gaze for a moment, Liam reaches for the to-go box, an accessory to this hedonistic feast we've indulged in. I watch, fascinated and flushed with heat, as he pops the lid open.

"Let's see how you taste with a hint of sweetness," he says, his voice rough like gravel, yet slick with the promise of pleasure.

He fishes out a spoonful of the dessert, some concocted delight that's nothing compared to the feast of sensations he offers. But as he brings the spoon to my lips, I part my lips for it like it's him I'm tasting all over again.

The cold sweetness invades my mouth, a stark contrast to the warmth he fills me with. I moan, and it's a sound born from the depths of my pleasure—half for the way his cock throbs inside me and half for the burst of flavor against my tongue.

"Shiloh," Liam groans, and there's something about the way he says my name—it's like a key turning in a lock, unleashing something feral within him. "You're too fucking sexy. It's not fair... it's impossible how gorgeous you are." His eyes blaze with a hunger that goes beyond physical need, and it stirs a whirlwind of emotions within me.

I brace my hands against the hard planes of his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart sync with mine.

"Liam," I pant out, the name coming out as a plea. "More, please."

His chest vibrates with a low chuckle, and I can feel the rumble all the way to where our bodies join. "I could never deny you anything." He gives me a look that's both commanding and giving, all at once.

And just like that, I'm soaring again on this endless loop of craving and fulfillment that only Liam can provide.

Liam's hand steadies, the silver plastic spoon coming to my lips once more. I barely notice the taste this time—my senses are too attuned to the feeling of him, the way he fills me so completely. But then a drop of ice cream slides from the spoon, trickling down my chin and onto my chest. It's cold, a stark contrast to the heat between us.

"Fuck," Liam breathes out, his eyes following the path of the desert as it pools on my skin.

He leans forward, his mouth closing over my nipple, capturing the sweetness there. The sensation is startling, sending a jolt through me that makes me buck against him. I can't help but move, rocking my hips in a rhythm that matches the swirling of his tongue.

"Oh, Liam," I gasp, my voice a mixture of desperation and delight.

He groans against my skin, the vibrations sending ripples of pleasure through me. I feel his hands grip my hips, guiding me, encouraging me.

"Shiloh, you're incredible," he murmurs, his voice strained with need. "Don't stop."

I cling to him, my nails digging into the muscles of his shoulders. My world narrows down to the feeling of him inside me, the taste of the dessert on my tongue, and the relentless drive towards something that promises to shatter me completely.

"Never," I promise breathlessly, meeting each of his thrusts with an urgency that borders on frantic. The room is filled with the sounds of our union—the soft slap of skin on skin, the rustle of the sheets, and our mingled moans. It's a symphony of desire, played just for us, and it's the most beautiful thing I've ever heard.

The last of the dessert forgotten, Liam's movements become more insistent, flipping me over with a strength that leaves my head spinning. My leg is hoisted over his shoulder, opening me up to him in a way that feels both vulnerable and utterly exhilarating. He drives into me hard, each thrust pushing a new wave of breathless cries from my lips.

"Look at me," he commands, and I can't deny him anything.

My eyes lock onto his, and there's a storm brewing in those depths—a tempest of raw desire and unspoken promises. His hands roam over my body with a possession that says I'm his, now and forever, even if we're dancing on the edge of something forbidden.

"I want to do filthy things with you, Shiloh," he growls, his voice thick with lust. "I want your mouth under my desk, taking me while I'm on a call. I want you staying late, riding me until the only thing you can remember is my name."

His words are like fire, igniting a hunger within me that I didn't know could exist. The thought of being so intimately his, in every place that was once off-limits, sends a thrill down my spine.

"Every night," he continues, his gaze never leaving mine, "I want you in this bed, in the breakroom, anywhere and everywhere. I want your taste lingering on my lips during meetings, your touch branded into my skin. I need you, all of you—your hands, your body, your mouth. I need you to belong to me."

"Please," I whisper, the word torn from me by the relentless pleasure he's giving me.

The pressure inside builds, a tidal wave of sensation that threatens to consume me whole. My breath hitches as Liam's rhythm becomes relentless, each movement calculated to bring us both to the brink. I'm spiraling, caught in the rapture of his eyes that burn with an intensity I've never seen before.

"Ah, Liam," I moan out, my voice a broken whisper of surrender. His name is a plea, a declaration, a release.

I come apart beneath him, a powerful orgasm that tears through me with the force of a storm. My fingers dig into the muscles of his back, craving something solid to hold onto as my entire being focuses on the exquisite pleasure he wrings from every nerve ending.

He doesn't break eye contact, doesn't look away as I unravel before him. And in those moments, lost in Liam's eyes and body, I find a connection deeper than just our tangled limbs—a binding of souls that defies reason.

As the waves of my climax ebb, Liam captures my lips with his own, kissing me through the aftershocks. The flavor of apple tart, sweet and tangy, still lingers on my tongue, mingling with the taste of him. It's a kiss that speaks volumes without uttering a single word, sealing everything that's happened between us.

In the aftermath, our breathing slows and the world shrinks to this room, to the heat of Liam's body pressed against mine. His eyes search my face, as if he's looking for something but isn't quite sure what it is. A silent question hangs in the air between us, one that neither of us has dared to ask.

"Say yes," Liam suddenly breaks the silence, his voice a low command that vibrates through my core.

I blink up at him, confused and still reeling from the intensity of our connection.

"Yes?" I echo, my mind scrambling to interpret the weight behind that single word. My heart pounds against my ribs, a wild rhythm that threatens to break free. "To what?"

His gaze locks onto mine, unwavering, demanding an answer. Intensity emanates from him like heat from a fire. "To being mine. To let me use you all day, every day. I fucking need you to say yes."

The words strike me not as a question but as a plea laced with raw desire. My heart hammers against my chest, the sound so loud in my ears it nearly drowns out the distant hum of the city below Liam's lavish bedroom window.

I nod, my throat too tight to form words. "Yes," I manage, my voice barely above a whisper, but it's enough. It's the surrender he's seeking.

He crushes his lips to mine in an all-consuming kiss, his mouth claiming mine with unbridled ownership. It's a kiss that brands me and seals this moment of reckless abandon.

Underneath him, I feel small yet infinite, caught in the eye of a storm that is entirely Liam. His taste, the essence of power and privilege mixed with something uniquely him, floods my senses. The crispness of the apple tart we shared mingles with the taste of our mutual craving.

"Say it again," he murmurs against my lips, a command wrapped in velvet darkness.

"Yes," I breathe out, the word falling from me like a sacred vow.

"Good," he rumbles, satisfaction thrumming in his voice.

Even as I agree, even as I let myself sink deeper into whatever this madness is, part of me knows that I've been his since the moment I walked into his office on my first day at work. Since the moment our eyes met I felt that jolt of recognition, that sense of inevitability that seems to have led us here.

Saying yes is just a formality, the outward acknowledgment of what's been true all along.

I belong to Liam, body and soul.