Chapter Fifty-Three Nathan

I'd only just had her in the car, but I was already hard for round two.

The heat between us hadn't cooled one bit as we stumbled up the stairs from the garage, lips locked like our lives depended on it. My hands couldn't get enough of her, roaming across her back, pulling her closer.

"Abby," I groaned against her mouth, the taste of her driving me insane.

"Right now, Nathan," she gasped out, her breath hot on my face. It was a demand, not a plea, and it lit a fire in my gut. I needed her, right then, and nothing was going to stop me.

The door slammed shut behind us with a thud that echoed through the empty stairwell. Our kissing was frantic, all tongue and teeth and desperation. She clung to me, her nails digging into my shoulders through my shirt, and I reveled in the sweet sting.

"Forever," I mumbled into her hair. It wasn't just lust talking—it was something deeper, stronger, something I never thought I'd feel. Every step we took up those stairs was a step further into territory I'd never dared to explore. With every breath, I wanted her more—not just her body, but everything she was.

Abby Harper, with her fierce green eyes and that spirit that matched my own intensity.

"I'm yours, Nathan," she breathed, her voice heavy with desire. Her words were a vice around my heart, tightening with every second. We crashed against the wall, barely noticing the pictures that rattled in their frames.

This was more than sex; it was a claiming, a promise without words.

"Mine," I said back, voice rough, echoing down the corridor. It was a vow, and I poured all of myself into that one word. Abby Harper, the woman who could hold her ground against anyone, had chosen me. And I was hers, completely and irrevocably.

I yanked at her dress, a deep growl rumbling from my chest as the fabric tore away with each step we ascended. Her fingers were just as impatient, fumbling with the buttons of my shirt until it hung open, revealing the tattoos that snaked across my skin—a permanent reminder of the life I led. My slacks followed, kicked aside without a thought.

"Upstairs," I grunted, the need for her eclipsing all else. And she complied, her own urgency matching mine as we stumbled up the last few steps towards my room. Our clothing marked our path like breadcrumbs; a dark trail of discarded intimacy leading to the one place where I could have her completely.

We crossed the threshold into my room, a sanctuary of sorts where the world outside ceased to exist. It was here, standing in nothing but our underwear, that I finally allowed myself to slow down. The reality of what we were doing—what this would mean—crashed over me, and I caught her gaze, searching for any sign of hesitation.

Hesitation about me.

About us.

About the fact that she'd just agreed to marry me, against all odds…

"Abby," I said, voice low and steady, "do you want this?"

Her eyes held mine, green flames dancing within them, and she nodded.

"Yes."

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of her trust. "I will always ask," I promised, knowing that this wasn't just about tonight. "Because I…I don't want to hurt you again. I won't—"

She pressed her finger to my lips, hushing me. But I needed to tell her. Every time, every touch, I would give her the choice, because that's what you did when you...cared.

Loved.

"Then ask, Nathan," she challenged with a smirk, her green eyes sparkling with mischief and something deeper, wilder. "Beg for it, the same way you've made me beg."

The air shifted between us, charged with a power that had nothing to do with the criminal empire I was born into. This was primal, a dance as old as time, and one I was more than willing to perform for her.

I dropped to my knees, the hardwood floor beneath me forgotten as I looked up at her. She stood there, fierce and unyielding, a goddess in black lace. "Abby, I need to touch you," I said, each word laced with the raw need that tightened every muscle in my body. "Please…please let me touch you."

"Do it," she consented, her voice a velvet command that sent shivers through me—shivers of anticipation, not fear.

My hands, those same hands that had spilled blood and brutalized her, trembled as they reached out to her hips. Fingers hooked into the waistband of her underwear, I peeled them down her legs, revealing more of her fair skin sprinkled with freckles—a constellation I was desperate to explore.

She stepped out of the delicate fabric now pooled around her ankles, still wearing her bra. From my position on the ground, I saw her in a way that felt almost reverent. It was a view no one else had ever been granted; it was mine and mine alone.

"Abby," I whispered, my voice rough with desire.

"Say my name again," she demanded, threading her fingers through my black hair, sending a jolt straight to my core.

"Abby," I repeated, the taste of her name sweet on my tongue.

"Good," she praised with a smirk that could set the city on fire. "Now, I want you to lick me."

Her words were my command, an order that I was all too eager to obey. I leaned in, pressing a kiss just above her belly button—a gentle press of lips to skin, a stark contrast to the burning desire coursing through me.

With each inch lower, I kissed her, mapping the route from her belly to the heat between her thighs. Each kiss was a silent vow, a moment of devotion, despite the darkness that normally defined my world. My tongue traced a long line up her slit, and she shuddered above me, a gasp breaking from her lips.

"More," she breathed, a single word that urged me to abandon restraint.

I licked her harder, the taste of her intoxicating, grounding me in this moment of pure, unbridled passion. Abby's hands tightened in my hair, grounding her too—as if she needed to make sure this wasn't some dream spun from the dark threads of our lives.

"Abby," I groaned against her, letting her know without words that this, right here, was where I wanted to be.

Always.

Her leg hooked over my shoulder, a deliberate move that offered more of her to me. I steadied her with one hand on her waist, the other gripping her thigh, helping her maintain the delicate balance between control and abandon. Each lash of my tongue drew sounds from her that seemed to resonate somewhere deep inside me, a primal beat in the silent night.

"Enough," she suddenly commanded, her voice thick with need. "Nathan…I need you…"

In one fluid motion, Abby pulled me up by the collar of my undershirt, her lips crashing against mine.

She kissed me hard, her strength surprising as it always was. With a shove, she sent me stumbling back. My feet tangled, and I fell onto the bed, the world tilting dangerously for a moment. The sight of her above me was something fierce, something precious—a vision inked into my memory.

"Off," was all she said, tugging at the elastic band of my underwear.

I lifted my hips, and she stripped them off, tossing them aside like they were nothing more than an afterthought. There, under her intense green gaze, I felt exposed but not vulnerable, laid bare but ready for battle—a war where every touch was a victory, every moan a conquest.

"Abby," I said, my voice rough like gravel, "come here."

She stood at the foot of the bed, a smirk playing on her lips. "You want me to suck your cock, Nathan?" Her tone was teasing, challenging.

I swallowed hard, my throat tight with desire. That she could have this power over me, make me feel so damn desperate for her, was both maddening and intoxicating. "Yes," I admitted without hesitation. My pride had no place here, not when every fiber of my being screamed for her touch. "Please, Abby. I need your hot mouth on me. Fuck, I love you, so please…please..."

Her eyes held mine, a spark igniting in their depths as she knelt between my spread legs. The heat of her breath brushed against me before her lips even made contact, sending a shockwave through my system.

"Say it again," she demanded, her fingertips skating along my inner thigh.

"I love you, Abby. So damn much." It was more than a plea; it was a truth that poured from my soul, raw and unfiltered—and my words tumbled into a groan as she answered my pleas.

Abby's lips parted, and she took me into her mouth. The warmth, the wetness—it enveloped me, sending jolts of pleasure radiating through my body. She moved slowly at first, watching me with those piercing eyes that seemed to see right through me. There was no hiding from her, not now, not ever.

"Look at me," she murmured against my skin, her voice a velvet caress that sent shivers across my flesh.

I did. I couldn't look away if I tried. There was something about the way she kept eye contact, something fiercely intimate and powerful that held me captive. Every bob of her head, every swirl of her tongue, was a testament to the connection between us—an unspoken promise that went beyond the physical act.

"Fuck, Abby," I groaned, my fingers threading through her hair, guiding her gently. But she set the pace, she controlled the moment, and I was merely along for the ride—a ride that threatened to unravel me at any second.

Her mouth worked over me with a relentless intensity that had my resolve fraying at the edges. The pressure built within me, coiling tighter like a spring wound to its breaking point. I was close, so damn close.

"Abby," I gasped, my voice hoarse with need. "I'm gonna—"

But then she stopped abruptly and pulled away, leaving me aching and pulsing in the cool air of the room. She crawled up my body, her movements lithe and deliberate, shedding her bra with a simple flick of her wrist. Her bare breasts were a vision of temptation, but when I reached for them, craving the softness of her skin against my palms, she slapped my hands away playfully.

"Uh-uh," she teased, pinning my wrists above my head with surprising strength—a strength I knew she possessed but rarely wielded against me. "I thought I was in charge for once."

The sight of Abby asserting control was a different kind of intoxicating. It was as if she was tapping into something primal within us both. The same part of me that could orchestrate violence in the shadows of the underworld craved this surrender to her will.

She positioned herself above me, teasing the tip of my cock with the slick heat of her pussy. The sensation was maddening. Every inch of my being screamed for more—for release, for the sheer ecstasy of being inside her.

"Abby," I growled, my voice laced with every ounce of desire and desperation clawing inside me. "Please."

"Say it again," she demanded, her voice low and commanding, her green eyes locked onto mine.

"Please," I begged, more forcefully this time. "I need you."

With a smirk playing on her lips, she maintained her grip on my wrists, the power dynamic between us shifting and swirling like the fog that blanketed the city outside. She continued to tease me, sliding just the slightest bit down before pulling away, hovering at the brink of what we both needed

"Abby," I pleaded once more, my entire world narrowing down to the woman who straddled me, the woman who held me captive in more ways than one. "I need to be inside you."

There was no room for pride or ego in this moment. There was only Abby and the raw hunger that burned through my veins, a hunger that she stoked with every calculated movement, every coy glance.

"Patience, Fangs," she whispered, using the nickname that normally only echoed in the alleys and back rooms of my territory. Hearing it from her lips was a thrill all its own—like she was finally here in the dark with me. "You'll get what you need. But on my terms."

And I wouldn't have it any other way.

Finally, Abby's expression softened, the corners of her mouth turning up in a satisfied smile as she read the naked desire on my face. She released my wrists and positioned herself above me, her hips hovering just inches from mine.

Then, with deliberate slowness that had me clenching my fists against the sheets, she lowered herself onto me.

"Ah, fuck," I groaned as she took me in, inch by excruciating inch. Every part of my body strained toward her, wanting to drive deeper, but she set the pace—a slow, torturous rhythm that had my head spinning.

As she began to move, her riding became more confident, more assertive. She leaned in close, her hands braced on my chest, her freckles a constellation I'd follow anywhere. Her hips rolled in a sensual dance that spoke of both control and abandon, and I was caught in the eye of her storm, completely at her mercy.

I watched her like this—strong, fierce Abby—the woman who chose to bare herself to me, who loved me despite my monstrous urges. The thought made my heart thunder against my ribs like it wanted to break free. Love for her slammed into me with the force of a freight train, leaving me breathless. It wasn't just lust that tied me to her; it was something deeper, something that scared the shit out of me because I knew I couldn't live without it.

"Abby," I whispered, reaching up to trace the curve of her jaw. She captured my hand and brought it to her lips, kissing my knuckles before pressing my palm against her heart.

"Feel that?" she said, her voice barely audible over our mingled breaths and the soft creak of the bed. "That's how you make me feel—like I'm alive, like I'm on fire."

Her words echoed in the room, filling the spaces between us with an intensity that was almost too much to bear. And as she continued to ride me, every movement seemed to declare that she was mine, even if I knew deep down that no one could ever truly possess someone like Abby Harper.

But God, did I want to try.

"Abby, I—" The confession lodged in my throat, but she silenced it with a kiss, fierce and all-consuming.

"Show me, Nathan," she breathed against my lips. "Show me how much I mean to you."

And I did. With every thrust, with every gasp and moan that spilled from our lips, I poured everything I had into her. In that moment, there were no secrets, no lies—just two people clinging to each other in the dark, desperate for connection, desperate for love.

Abby's lips met mine in a tender collision, her kiss an intoxicating blend of sweetness and strength. I lost myself in the rhythm of her movements, every brush of her lips a silent vow. My hands roamed over the planes of her back, memorizing every dip and curve like the verses of a sacred text.

"Claim me, Nathan," she whispered against my mouth, her breath hot and urgent. "I want you to fuck me hard."

The words were a catalyst, igniting something primal within me. I flipped her onto her back without breaking our kiss, a growl rumbling in my chest. Abby's leg hooked over my shoulder as I positioned myself at her entrance, the green of her eyes blazing with a challenge.

"Like this?" I asked, my voice hoarse with need.

"Exactly like that," she confirmed, a sly smile playing on her lips.

I thrust into her, heat roaring through my veins as I claimed her body with mine. Each movement was a proclamation, my hips snapping forward with an intensity that matched the beat of my heart. Abby's fingers dug into my shoulders, her legs tight around my waist as she matched my pace.

"Harder," she gasped, and I obliged, driving into her with a possessive force that left no doubt of my intent. Her nails raked down my back, leaving trails that burned with sweet agony. I watched her beneath me, a fierce goddess bathed in the soft glow of the night, each moan that escaped her lips stoking the fire that threatened to consume us both.

"Abby," I groaned, my control slipping as I surrendered to the tempest she'd summoned within me.

"Let go, Nathan," she urged, her eyes locked onto mine, a storm of emotion swirling in their depths. "Show me how much you love me."

"Are you ready?" I panted, the question tearing from me as I felt the precipice of release drawing near.

She nodded, her breath coming in short bursts. "Come for me, Nathan," Abby whispered, her voice a commanding caress that sent shivers down my spine.

With a few more powerful thrusts, I reached the edge and tumbled over. Pleasure unlike anything I'd ever felt before gripped me, tore through me, as I spilled inside her with a guttural cry. My entire body shook, waves of ecstasy rolling through me and crashing into her.

I collapsed onto her chest, our sweat-mingled skin sticking together. Her heart hammered against mine, and for a moment, all I could do was gasp for air, clinging to her as if she were my lifeline. The intensity of what we'd shared left me reeling, knowing without a doubt that this—she—was the best I'd ever had.

Lying there, with the weight of my body pressed against hers, I felt a peace that had eluded me for years. The violence of my world, the blood that stained my hands—it all faded away in her embrace. I lifted myself slightly, propping up on my elbows to look at her. Abby's green eyes shimmered back at me, not just with desire, but something deeper, something that echoed the longing in my own chest.

"Abby," I said, my voice rough from exertion and emotion, "I love you." The words tumbled out, simple but loaded with the weight of my world, my truth. They were three little words that changed everything, yet nothing at all, because they were already written in every action, every glance, every touch we shared.

She reached up, her fingers tracing the outline of the dragon tattoo that sprawled across my skin—a mark of my heritage, my family's power, and my own darkness. But her touch didn't flinch at the reminder of what I was, who I was.

Instead, she pulled me closer, sealing her promise with a kiss that tasted of commitment and whispered vows.

"I can't imagine ever losing you, Nathan." Her words were a soft murmur against the backdrop of the night.

"Neither can I," I replied. I meant it with every fiber of my being. In a life filled with transience, with people coming and going like shadows in the dark, Abby was my constant.

As sleep began to claim us, I let the rhythms of our breathing lull me into a rare state of calm. For now, for tonight, she was mine, and I was hers.

And nothing else mattered.