Chapter 16

Rome

He was fucked, but not the same way he'd fucked up just about everything else in his life. It was different. He was feeling, wanting, desiring, thinking. He was unable to stop or block out those emotions and sensations.

Seren was so goddamn breathtaking on the edge of the desk, her pussy naked and glistening for him. He wanted her. He was going to have her. He was brutally hard. He couldn't think past the overwhelming need to possess Seren. To turn her around, bend her over that desk, and punish he fuck out of her for taking control.

He was going to have her, or she was going to have him. He was now the one at the disadvantage.

"You say you don't want to touch me." Seren's voice was different.

Everything about her was different.

He'd blended in with the world. He'd hidden the part of himself that was wolf now and before, mostly from his family, he'd throttled back the true nature of his being. He was good at being something other than what he was, but he could only be himself in his own office with this woman who he was supposed to own and purge and forget. He couldn't hide his astonishment that she had come here, premeditated this, and had so easily worn him down. He wasn't the one giving orders, and that astounded him.

It was more astounding that he didn't want to take back control. Yet. He wanted to see how far she would take this.

"You say you can't touch me," Seren repeated. "Then don't. Get in the chair." She slammed her legs shut and let her skirt drop back into place. "Put your hands behind your back. You can still tell me what to do without them."

She was asking him to render himself defenseless. There would be no physical restraints, just his word and the honor he'd lost long ago. He shivered at the implications, but it wasn't the kind that made his skin crawl. His dick nearly tore through his jeans. When Seren finally pulled it out, she'd probably find him bruised from drilling into his fly so hard.

She turned and walked past him, letting him be the one to have her unguarded back. He wasn't going to sit behind that desk. He pulled the chair out, ignoring the array of toys he'd put there with the full intention of pushing Seren to her limits and enjoying how much she squirmed and detested it and needed it and hated herself and him for it.

He thrust the chair into the middle of the room and sat down so hard it nearly broke. If he hadn't had his feet planted firmly on the floor, he would have shot backwards.

Seren closed the door. When she turned it was like seeing a different woman. She wasn't the same shy, frightened, reluctant, scornful woman who stepped foot into his office every other Monday. She wasn't the woman who had come to him, basically begging him to lend her that money, horrified over what she'd have to do for it. This was a woman radiant and golden from the inside, alight with the discovery of her own power.

She wasn't looking to dominate him. She wasn't going to take from him. This wasn't retribution or payback for what he'd done to her. It wasn't that kind of power. The power had nothing to do with him and everything to do with her. She looked almost at peace in a body she'd seemed to be so embarrassed over. For a wolf, she was squeamish when it came to nudity. Maybe it was just him. Would she act that way with another man? One who wasn't forcing her to sell her body?

There would be no other male. He'd kill anyone who dared to look at Seren, clothed or unclothed. Certainly unclothed.

He wasn't surprised or alarmed by the thought, but it was troublesome. She wasn't his past this room. Whatever she was proposing, it probably wouldn't be a repeat performance. She wanted a good, hard fuck. To fuck him out of herself the same way he'd wanted to do to her. This was a means to an end, not a safe, loving relationship. He had no business being protective of her past the expiration of their agreement. She was an investment, not a girlfriend. A toy, and definitely never a mate.

The instinct that formed into words was deeper than that and he knew it.

Luckily, Seren distracted him by slipping off her jacket. It was a work of art, with pink ribbons and black lace, studs and rips and tears. No doubt she'd done it herself. Her black tank was molded to the shape of her curves. His mouth went dry when she grabbed it by the hem and with zero preamble or teasing, pulled it over her head. She had a bra underneath, one that pushed her breasts up into perfect orbs.

He'd never seen this much of her skin. Black and gray ink decorated both arms. He wished he could focus on what it was. He blinked his eyes into focus before he reached new levels of pathetic. His blood hammered as hard as his heart. He could barely breathe without panting. His cock kept drilling into his jeans.

An angel. Bowed. Broken wings. The feathers so realistic they looked soft. A reaper, robes flowing. Reaching for each other.

How fucking… intuitive .

Except he was the one who was broken, and she was the one who was about to reach into his chest and steal a soul that wasn't supposed to even exist any longer. Good. He'd rather feed it into her hands now than whatever was waiting to damn him when he died.

Seren left the bra on. "Hands behind your back." She studied him, waiting for him to comply, face entirely neutral and composed. When the hell did she learn to have such mastery over herself? Had she simply been acting the whole time?

He noticed the slightest tremble in her hands when she touched the waistband of her skirt. She was acting now. Forcing herself to be brave, to dig down into herself and find a new power. She flattened her fingers just above her hipbones. She had an athletic build, with abs, but that didn't mean she didn't have a lovely curve to her hips. She had no ink on her collarbones, neck, or breasts. A large lantern with a huge moth and soft roses, spider webs, and thistles curled around her hips and covered her stomach. She traced the edge of one flower when she followed the direction of his gaze and looked up at him.

"Your hands, Rome. Behind. Your. Back."

She started to slip her skirt down, inching it lower on her hipbones, exposing more ink, more flowers, little sprays of baby's breath. He knew she wasn't wearing any panties, but it was still like he was seeing her for the first time. She was resplendent undressing. She didn't tease him. Didn't stand there or start to saunter over to him provocatively. She was doing this for herself as much as for him, and that's what made her all the more desirable. He'd set the rules, but now that everything had changed, still not being able to touch her was a new form of torture he was unprepared and unequipped to manage.

She stood there, the skirt pooled at her ankles. She hadn't taken off those silly pink boots yet. Combat, lace-up style things, but soft powder pink.

He obeyed her instruction, and it didn't kill him. He didn't liquify on the spot because he'd done what she'd asked. He tucked his hands behind his back, elbows out to the sides, resting on the chair's arms, and he laced his fingers tightly together.

She smiled and nodded. "Good. Don't remove them."

"I won't."

"Not even if the world ends."

"That's ridiculous."

"Say it."

"Not even if the world ends."

It felt like it was. His world. He was being reborn. The woman in front of him was already a different person. She wasn't the Seren he'd known. This was the buried Seren, the one she'd never dared to set free. He'd brought it out of her, but he could take no credit for it.

He took up the entire chair, so when she came forward, the only place for her to go was on top of him. His breath hissed out of him as she knelt on his knees. First one leg, then the other. She arched her back, keeping her body away from him. The only parts that touched were their thighs.

She was intoxicating across the office, and she was utterly beguiling this close. He lost his mind. His brain scrambled into mush at the sweetness of her scent. He could smell more than perfume. Her skin. Her pussy. Her desire.

His fingers tugged at themselves, and he was glad he'd twisted them together so they couldn't be undone.

"What did you want to do to me?" she asked, not taunting him, blue eyes intense. "Did you want to taste my pussy?"

"Mmm."

"Is that a yes? I'm afraid I'm going to have to hear it."

"Yes," he ground out.

"Should I feed it to you like this?"

She'd tip the chair over if she tried. She'd hurt herself. "No."

"How, then?" She flipped her hair and arched her back, the soft pillows of her breasts nearly landing straight in his face.

It took a supreme amount of will, not to lean forward and tear that bra apart with his teeth.

"On the desk."

"But you'll be in the chair, your hands behind your back. It won't be the right angle."

"I'll make it the right angle."

"But no hands."

"No hands."

She got off him, her knees grinding into his thighs as she shifted away, but he didn't even feel the pain, not even in the almost healed bullet hole she pressed on. Christ, if he never got shot again it would be too soon. Digging those bullets out at the garage was not an experience he wanted to commit to memory, but by merit of how gruesome and painful it was, it was entrenched there.

Seren swept her arm along the desktop, scattering the toys. His plans for the evening seemed like they existed in another lifetime. He'd paid careful attention to the exact minute of their time together before, but now he was lost. How much time remained? Did Seren care? They'd broken every rule in the contract already.

The toys scattered, half rolling away to the far side of the desk, the others hitting the floor. She shoved back the monitor and turned, getting up on the desk. She forced her legs apart, so far that if she kept them that way, her thighs would start to burn.

He scooted forward in the chair, knowing that the absurd one was now him. He had to bend practically in half to be able to reach her. His fingers strained, but he refused to let them move.

She never took her eyes off him. He was utterly transfixed by her perfection. She was so smooth and so pink. His mouth didn't do something so pedestrian as just water. He wasn't simply hungry. He was beyond starved. He was going to devour her.

Seren leaned back on her hands, reclining casually like she was a muse posing for a painting, arranged in some perfectly honorable fashion.

He looked up at her. Her face was serene, almost without expression. She was so composed. Who was this woman?

"Take your bra off."

"No."

Just no. She left it at that. He had to accept it. He forced a breath in, which was a struggle. The scent of her was strong this close. His fingers were probably bloodless from the strain. He was desperate to plunge his tongue into her, to gather up that sweet nectar of the gods, but he waited. He held himself back. Waited for her order.

She'd turned the game around. Turned everything on its head. Let her give it, if she was bold enough.

"Lick my pussy, Rome. If you're waiting for my permission, if me opening my legs for you wasn't explicit enough, you have it. I want your tongue parting me, working my clit, inside me. I'm going to come like that, on your face." There was the tiniest hitch in her voice, but that was the only thing that gave her away.

He didn't look up at her to see the echo of shyness and uncertainty reflected back. He gave her that reprieve. He let her continue the illusion of power and control.

He bent further and leaned forward. She'd set herself just right on the edge. He'd been close to death so many times, but he literally could have died at the perfection of the taste of her. She'd commanded him not to touch her, but neither of them said she couldn't touch him. Her hands left the desk and hovered near his hair, but she dropped them back. She was soaked and the noise she made when his tongue met her center said that despite everything, she wanted this as much as he did.

He'd promised to destroy her, not worship her, but she was too good. Too perfect. She had a body made for sin, made for accolades, made to reduce a man to ash, prostrate at her feet. He wasn't on the floor, but he was bowed before her.

Coiled, more like. He was the most lethal when it was least expected. Every muscle in his body was tight, electricity coursing through him. He was sticky with sweat at the effort of holding himself back. How much longer could he play this game? Was it a game within a game? It felt so much more like reality. He would never have found himself in this position when it came to anyone else. Never would he have prostrated himself or handed over the keys of power. Never would he have fucked up so badly and enjoyed it so much.

He wasn't above feeling, it just normally didn't happen. Even for the extreme, he was barely able to conjure up any emotions. There was one day in his life that still affected him. He would never be able to purge that night when everything changed.

He wasn't sure what he felt right now, but he felt it through all his body.

He felt it keenly as he ran his tongue along Seren's folds. He licked his way straight to her clit and heard her gasp. His cock throbbed, leaking in his jeans. She was so good, so bright and delicious.

She leaned into him, arching her back. He felt her shake as he slowly circled her clit and then pulled back. He teased her seam, vibrating with need. His fingers grew slick and clammy. They were going to come apart. Break their coupling like shattered chains. He was going to grasp her hips, tear his jeans open, and fuck her. He was going to fill her until it hurt, until he tore her apart with his massive cock. He'd grasp her thighs, her hips, her ass, her tits, so hard that he'd leave his fingerprints on her skin like the ink that decorated her body.

He hesitated at her entrance just because he wanted to hear her tell him to do it. Instead, she moaned and parted her legs even further. She rocked forward, her hips riding his face before there was anything to ride. He wanted her riding his dick more than he wanted anything, but he gave her his tongue.

He plunged it inside her. Fuck, she was so tight. She'd be exquisite wrapped around his dick. Heat surged up his spine. His fingers ached. They were going to snap apart.

He was going to tear apart.

He dragged his tongue back over her slit, back to her clit, and Seren's strangled moan shattered through the room like a grenade.

He couldn't do this. He was wrong. He couldn't play this game. It was far too deadly. Too high stakes. She didn't understand what she was getting herself into. She didn't know what he'd done. To her, specifically. If she did, she'd hate him.

It didn't seem right that she'd give him her body this way, so proudly free and strong, when he hadn't told her that he'd manipulated her into this very position. He might never have meant for this exactly to happen, but it was happening and it wasn't just the fault of some prick who'd decided to take Seren and her associates to court.

And there she was, spread open, at his mercy, begging him for more.

He slowly straightened and her back unbowed. Her eyes opened, pupils blown, the irises so dark blue that they were like falling through the ocean.

She deserved better than this. So much better than him. But if that's what she wanted, he'd give her whatever he had that was worth anything at all. He'd gather up the shreds and tears and hand her the shattered paper bits. He'd tear himself wide open and allow her free access. He'd give her the soul he wasn't sure he even still had, set straight into her open palms. She could create art with it if she chose. She was the talented one, the one who could take something worth nothing and turn it into a masterpiece.

"There's something I have to—"

"No." She flew forward, launching herself at him. She broke her fall with her hands on his shoulders, but his had untangled. They were tingling and numb, but he wrapped them around her waist to break her fall.

Fuck.

He was touching her. Her skin the softest silk. She was everything good, everything beautiful, everything he should have kept the fuck away from himself if he wanted to keep it unsullied. She'd get over it if she was just performing for him. She'd learn something about herself and then she'd get over it or get past it or use that knowledge however she chose. In the end, she would have been able to stand on her own. She would have left with her head held high and never looked back. She would only have thought of him to dismiss him. That was his end goal.

He was never going to achieve it now.

She'd found all the broken pieces of him. She was far from picking them up and slotting them back together. There was no right order. She held them in her hands, but the way she looked at him, it was like she didn't care. She didn't mind that they were going to cut into her flesh. They were going to scar and imbed and wound, but she wasn't afraid.

This woman was so much more than he'd ever known or understood. If he lived a thousand lifetimes with her, he would never fully be able to comprehend all of her. A thousand lifetimes? He'd done enough damage in a single one. A half of a single one. Hopefully, re-birth wasn't a thing. He didn't want to come back to do this all again.

"You don't know. You don't understand. I've—"

"No." Her nails bit into his shoulders through his t-shirt. She didn't have fake ones. The real ones did enough damage. He liked the bite, the red welted crescent moons that would be there in his flesh if he stripped his shirt off and looked. "No, Rome. I don't care what you've done or what you're going to do. This is our hour. This is our night. There is nothing but right here, right now. There is nothing but us."