Chapter 40

It's a storm tonight inside Noire.

That alone should've warned me of his mood.

High winds whip against the towering trees, rain falling in sheets from what must be sprinklers on the ceiling, plastering my wet dress to my body. An occasional squawk of a bird echoes in the space, followed by a screech of some other nocturnal animal. The skies are pitch black, with only a sliver of the moon in sight, the faint light blurred by the pelting rain.

A burst of lightning flashes across the sky, followed by a blast of thunder and I flinch as my boots trample on the sodden puddles in the ground a few feet away from the abandoned building.

Closing my eyes, I inhale the scent of wet earth and saltiness in the air.

The mercurial moods of the great nature. Much like the man who has stolen my heart.

This reminds me of the day we met, when I stared at his lonely silhouette, his face tipped toward the stormy skies, letting the rain wash over him, his lips curving in a bittersweet smile. I remember my heart seizing, a visceral pain stabbing me in the chest at the haunted loneliness in his imposing frame, the way every atom in my body clamored toward him, wanting to chase away the darkness in his soul, to see him smile, unburdened and untethered.

Unbothered by the wetness cloaking my skin, soaking my clothes, I step inside the abandoned building, which is only a shell of cement walls and steel frames. I know he'll eventually find me, then I'll—

A hand clamps over my mouth as a muscular arm ensnares my waist, lifting me high in the air.

My biological response automatically kicks in and I dig my nails into the hand over my mouth, my teeth biting at the fingers I can reach, my elbows shoving backward, landing on the hard slabs of his muscles.

I hear a faint oomph from under his breath and my nostrils fill with the familiar scent of woody citrus.

"Stop fighting, my little lark." A deep rasp followed by another grunt when I elbow him once more.

A sharp pinch slices through me when his teeth clamp over the sensitive whorl of my ear.

"Give up," he mutters.

He unleashes another bite. "Give up." On me.

The words are unsaid but hang between us, morbid like the blade of the guillotine moments before it's used.

But my body doesn't want to stop. I want to show him I can overpower him and absorb every tendril of his darkness. I want him to know I'm a fighter and I can destroy his mental enemies for him. And so, I buck against him, my elbow connecting with his abs again, this time harder, stronger, and he winces. His arm loosens around my waist and his hand dislodges from over my mouth.

Spinning around, I face him, noting his shocked eyes, his mouth parted in an anguished groan, and I shove him with all my strength, backing him toward the wall.

"Never!" I scream as I push him again. "I'm a fighter, Ryland Anderson, and you can't beat me."

I give him another hard shove and he lands against the cement wall beside the door. His chest moves up and down rapidly as he stares at me advancing toward him. His eyes turn into molten iron, scorching and flaring.

"I'll never give up on you, on us."

With that, I hurl myself on top of him, his hands automatically catching my hips, and I slam my lips on his.

She bites me, my ferocious little lark, her fingers clawing the back of my neck, and I let out a hiss of pleasurable pain as she soothes her bite marks with soft suctions.

Every nerve in my body wakes up as I become a slave to sensations. Feeling the storm raging around us and having the woman of my dreams fighting for me have effectively murdered the remnants of my common sense.

The monster inside me awakens, the bottomless dark hole threatening to swallow her whole, and a low growl rips from my lips.

I can't think. I can't speak. I can only feel the basest impulses driving my every movement. The need to conquer. The need to dominate. The need to decimate.

My teeth collide with hers in a war of dominance and her fight feeds my bloodlust in a way I've never experienced before. The chains binding me to reality snap and clatter to the ground.

I spin her around, pinning her against the wall as my tongue dives into her mouth, sweeping through her intoxicating sweet taste, my brand of addiction, a unique high tailored for me.

Millie scratches my back in her hasty attempt to take off my dress shirt. She lets out a moan as my teeth rake over the sensitive spot where her ear meets her neck and with a roar, I yank my shirt off my body, sending a few buttons pinging off the cold floors.

The storm rages on, befitting the turmoil overtaking me. The gentleman inside me dissipates into smoke and the caveman hiding within steps to the front and center.

With a guttural growl, I set her on the ground and render her immobile against the wall with my body weight. One rough yank later, her wrap dress pools at her feet. She stares at me, her tits glistening with rainwater, heaving like the water nymph who changed my life two years ago. My jaw clenches as my eyes devour her seductive figure, the creamy skin, her soft belly, curvy hips, and that scrap of black lace hiding the tightest little pussy I've ever felt.

I take off my jeans and underwear and stand before her, suspended in this strange alternate universe where she and I, two fighters with scars over our souls, stare each other down. A violent burst of lightning streaks across the skies, flooding the space with a flash of white light, and the crackle of thunder following echoes within the walls.

Her eyes are glazed, the alluring blues in her irises nowhere to be seen. Our chests heave in unison and a sharp energy sizzles up my spine, jolting the clamoring heart behind my rib cage, spreading to my entire body.

Another flash of lightning blinds the room, and she hurls herself at me as we come together.

Man and woman. Fighter against fighter. A huntress and her prey.

We're a mess of scratches and kisses, tangled limbs and gyrating torsos, our bodies like flint stones sparking with every graze and every scratch.

I swallow her cries with my lips, my mouth parched and needing her sweetness to quench my never ending thirst, my hands clamping and kneading the round swells of her ass, my fingers skimming over the delicate strings of her panties until my fingers reach the forbidden hole in the back.

"Fuck. You've been walking around campus practically naked under your dress."

My hand comes down hard and slaps one cheek, and she whimpers before gyrating her hips over my cock, which is so hard it's practically plastered against my abs.

"That's for tempting me, Millie. For driving me insane, so I forget who I am and what I stand for."

Slap.

"That's for making me break my rules. For making me want to be selfish."

Slap. Slap. Slap.

My hands rub the globes of her ass after each strike. She moans against my mouth, and I feel her juices dripping on my cock.

"Safe word, Millie. Stop this." Please, stop me.

My fingers move to the front and slide under the delicate lace. "Dildo in your underwear, you naughty girl."

I dislodge the toy and plunge two fingers inside her soaked channel, and she lets out a loud mewl, her lusty sounds echoing in the room.

"I'll never say the safe word because I feel the safest when I'm with you, Ryland," she whispers, her eyes heavy-lidded, her lips swollen, her voice drunk with pleasure.

"Fuck." I saw my fingers in and out of her pussy, curling it at an angle so it hits her g-spot with every pass. She cries out my name, her pussy getting impossibly wetter.

"My dirty student. A good girl on the outside, but a whore on the inside. Just for me. God, you're so fucking tight. You need more, don't you, baby?"

"Yes," she moans. "More, Ryland, more. I want everything."

My mind is hazy with pleasure, not able to form any more words and with a hoarse grunt, I tug her underwear to the side and slam myself into her tight cunt, groaning as her pussy takes every inch of my throbbing cock.

"Yes!" she screams, bucking against me, and my vision turns red.

I bite her neck as she claws my shoulder blades, my hips hammering against her, my balls smacking her ass.

The wet sounds of our skin slapping against skin accompany the rumbling of the thunder, and we're overtaken by the tempest in our souls. The hurricane. The tornado. A tsunami obliterating the last defenses of my heart.

My balls grow taut, the pleasure climbing into unbearable euphoria. My eyes only see her, my Millie who is strong enough to take the challenges the world gives her, my ears only hear her sweet voice, capturing every moan and cry into memory, my lips only taste her sweetness, the honeyed chocolate drug I'll never get enough of, and my skin only registering her warmth, her vitality.

The walls of her pussy tremble and throb. "You're strangling my cock, little lark. Your greedy pussy wants every drop of cum from me." I pant, my dick thickening and lengthening unbearably so, and sweat drips down my forehead. "Come for me. Be a good girl."

Millie arches her back, her eyes rolling back as her muscles lock before trembling.

Her lips part and she lets out a harsh cry as her pussy clenches my cock in the tightest vise and wetness sluices out of her. "Ryland!"

Black dots cloud my vision, the pleasure sharpening until I reach the point of no return, and with a few more punishing thrusts, I clamp my teeth on her shoulder and white-hot heat shoots up from my balls to my shaft. I follow her into bliss, my cock throbbing, and I unload spurts of cum inside her.

My monster roars inside me, satiated for the first time in his life, and I tighten my arms around her, our hearts racing next to each other, the thudding adding to nature's symphony.

I cover my lips with hers, needing the connection. A burst of heady warmth floods my chest, and it's then I know.

It's too late.

My heart has escaped my rib cage without me noticing. It has been living outside of me all along, nestled against hers.

Every beat. Every thump. Every flutter.

Only for her.