“I won’t fuck you until the day you look at me and call me yours. I’m not giving you that if I don’t get your name attached to it.”

  “Fine,” she breathes out, almost laughing. “But let me tell you—you’re missing out because sex… sex is⁠—”

  “I suggest you don’t finish that fucking sentence,” I hiss, my teeth gritted, every word shaking with restraint I no longer have. “Not when you’re thinking about men who aren’t me.”

  “My experience is only with men who aren’t you, so what exactly do you expect from me here?”

  “Fuck!” I roar, the word tearing out of me.

  My lungs burn, and my pulse is a hammer in my skull as every face of every man I’ve ever watched touch her flashes behind my eyes like a reel I can’t shut off.

  “I can’t hear that from you anymore. I can’t fucking think—” I jab my fingers against my temple like I could dig the memories out if I press hard enough.

  I push even harder until the pain gives me something else to focus on besides the image of her with someone else.

  “You don’t get it. You’ll never get it. I know I did it to myself. I know, but that doesn’t make it easier.” I drag my hands over my face, then turn away from her, because if I look at her right now, I’ll break. “It went beyond jealousy. I wanted to rip those fuckers from you. I wanted to drag you somewhere no one else could ever fucking touch you.”

  “Then why the hell didn’t you?” she fires back. “You could’ve, Phoenix. You could’ve shown yourself. Why didn’t you?”

  “The letters,” I choke out, spinning back to face her. “The fucking letters. You never stopped hurting, and I never stopped punishing myself for that. I was bad to you. God, I was so fucking bad to you, but I swear to you, baby, just let me back in. Let me be good for you… to you. I can be. I will be.” I collapse to my knees at her feet, pressing my forehead into her stomach, rubbing it back and forth over her skirt. My arms wrap around her waist, trembling as I hold her to me. “What can I do? Tell me, Shannen. I’ll do anything. Just don’t send me away.”

  Chapter 12

  Shannen

  Phoenix is practically begging for praise, validation, and reassurance, and suddenly, it all makes so much sense. Needing to be loved, needing someone to look at him like he’s everything—that’s what he’s always been chasing.

  That’s how I lost him the first time.

  Useless.

  Unworthy.

  Freak.

  Mistake.

  Unlovable.

  Those were some of the words his father forced down his throat when he was just a boy, each one poisoning his mind and leaving him with a space where self-worth and love should’ve lived.

  I wasn’t mature enough to see it at the time because I was too consumed by my own pain to recognize his, but I see it now. Phoenix wants someone to look at him and tell him he’s worth something, not because he’s perfect but simply because he’s him. He craves that unwavering, unconditional love as if every cruel word from his past could be erased if someone just told him he was enough. Back then, all the care and respect I had for him didn’t even scratch the surface of the damage his father had done.

  Now he’s staring up at me, his eyes wild, waiting to see what I’ll do next.

  I don’t even know what line I’m testing or how far I’m willing to push him, but what I do know is that, despite all his alpha bullshit, Phoenix needs a place to break, and right now I want to be that safe space for him.

  “You wanna be good for me?” I ask, feeding into the need I can see burning behind his eyes. He nods immediately, his pupils blown so wide there’s barely any gray left. “Then strip my panties off and say out loud how wet you’ve made me.”

  I’m fucked.

  Completely gone.

  I’ve let his madness bleed into me.

  His eyes don’t leave mine, not for a second, even as his hands move up the outside of my thighs. When he reaches my underwear, his fingers hook around the sides, and for a moment, he just grips—a full, possessive hold on my hips that makes my breath stutter. Then he tugs, dragging the fabric down. His knuckles brush over my skin, past my knees, lower, until they pool at my ankles.

  “Tell me.”

  “You’re soaked.”

  “For who, Phoenix?”

  “Me,” he whispers.

  Confusion flickers in his silver stare, caught between wanting to reclaim control and surrendering to something that doesn’t quite make sense to him yet, but I know he feels it.

  I stand, hike my skirt up, and bunch it around my waist. All his focus immediately drops to what’s in front of him. Need and obsession coil in his eyes, and he looks like a wolf scenting blood.

  “Now look at me,” I order, dragging his gaze back to mine. “Show me just how good you can be for me.”

  His chest rises hard and falls even harder, and for a moment, it feels like he’s holding me in place with nothing but that stare—just those beautiful steel eyes burning straight through me.

  Pressing his face into me, he buries himself between my thighs, and when his mouth finally touches me, it isn’t a kiss or a lick, just the faintest ghost of his lips brushing against me.

  “Can I eat your pussy until you come?” he asks, waiting for my permission.

  I manage a breathless “Yes,” and the second the word leaves my mouth, his tongue sweeps over me, dragging from my entrance to my clit. His mouth covers me, consumes me, ravenous and desperate in a way that’s purely animalistic. Large hands slide up the backs of my thighs, fingers digging into the curves of my ass before he wraps them around my waist, as if he has no intention of ever letting go.

  His tongue moves like he’s been ready for this his whole life. Every slow circle has my head tipping back and pleasure tightening in my belly. When he pushes deeper, thrusting his tongue inside me, it isn’t just tongue-fucking anymore—it’s ownership.

  He’s never done this. I know he hasn’t, but it doesn’t matter. Whatever he lacks in experience, he makes up for in obsession and instinct. Every flick of his tongue, every groan he growls into my cunt, is a giant fuck-you to every man who’s ever laid a hand on my body.

  “You’re making me feel so good, Phoenix.” I pant, my whole body already trembling. He groans, then pulls back just enough to look up at me, his lips slick, eyes glazed over. “Can you be really good for me now and let me use your mouth?”

  My fingers slide into his hair, and he nods. I tighten my hold, tilt his head back, and watch the muscles flex in his neck.

  “Give me your tongue,” I whisper, barely able to get the words out.

  He obeys, and I move. I rock my hips over the flat of his tongue, riding his face while he holds me tighter, guiding me as he helps me chase my orgasm.

  “Holy shit, Phoenix… you’re gonna make me come so hard.”

  I break right there, falling apart around his mouth, dragging him tight against me as the orgasm tears through my body so hard my knees feel useless. When I finally loosen my grip and sink back against the desk, he doesn’t stop licking me. He avoids my clit like he knows the touch would be too much and continues to dip inside me and run his tongue along my thighs.

  “You taste beautiful.”

  Lick.

  My fingers slide into his hair, gentler than I should allow, and I quickly force the rush of feelings for him back down.

  “I want to do this every day for the rest of my life.”

  Suck.

  My body jolts, overstimulated and undone, but I still don’t stop him.

  “I’ll make you feel so good, baby. I swear I’ll have you moaning like that every fucking day. Whatever you want, whenever you want it. I’ll be everything for you. Just—fuck—just let me.”

  Kiss.

  “Please let me love you,” he pleads, and my heart cracks straight down the center.

  I don’t answer him.

  I can’t let myself blur the lines, not with Phoenix.

  Not sex and feelings.

  Not him and my heart.

  I have to keep them separate, or at least pretend I can.

  I try to create some distance and start to wiggle my skirt down, but Phoenix is on his feet before it even hits my hips. His hands snap out, gripping my waist like steel cuffs.

  His eyes shift from what I know to be his warped version of love to something darker and far more territorial.

  “Don’t.” I try to move, but he holds my body still. “Don’t even fucking think about it.”

  He feels my need to pull back. I know he does. I can see it in the panic written all over his face.

  “I was good for you, so stop running from me.”

  One hand leaves my waist, and I watch, completely frozen, as he slides his middle finger between his lips before sinking it inside me. My body jerks, oversensitive and raw, and a broken moan tears from my throat.

  “Phoenix, I can’t⁠—”

  “You can.” His other hand slides up to grip my jaw, his fingers spreading across my cheek as he forces my face to meet his. “And you fucking will because I’m not done with you yet.”

  His eyes are wild. Unhinged. Like a man who hasn’t eaten in years and suddenly found the one thing he was built to feast on.

  “Holy… fuck, Shannen.”

  He wrenches his finger free, sucking on it slowly before sliding two fingers back inside, pushing deeper, harder. My hips buck so violently I almost slip right off the desk.

  “I’ve dreamed of this.” He pants, his forehead now pressed to mine. “Dreamed of being inside you… feeling you… fucking you… getting you to scream your lungs out while I fill you any way you’ll let me.”

  His fingers curl, pumping in and out, slow at first, testing, learning, and getting used to the way my body melts for him.

  I throw my head back when his fingers graze there—that exploding, blinding spot that makes the whole universe split open behind my eyes.

  “Is that it?” he murmurs, already knowing he’s about ten seconds away from sending my soul ricocheting out of my body.

  “Don’t stop.”

  But of course the asshole does.

  His breath is hot against my skin, his fingers slowing until the ache becomes unbearable.

  “I hate being edged, Phoenix.”

  “Good,” he whispers, keeping his fingers buried deep, stilling just enough to make me tremble. “You know what I hate? Being denied. My fingers in your cunt are good enough, but my heart isn’t?” He tsks softly, his silver gaze pinning me in place. “You realize how shitty that is? I offer you every piece of me, and you keep lying to both of us, pretending you don’t want it. That’s just cruel, baby.”

  “Yeah, well, it takes one cruel asshole to recognize another.”

  “You think this is cruel?” His hand slides up my throat, his thumb pressing under my jaw, while his fingers curl inside me so slowly it feels like torture.

  “Yes.”

  He leans in, his lips ghosting over my ear. “Because I’m not giving you the ending you want? The one you know I’ll give you eventually, but only after I drag you through hell first? That’s poetic, don’t you think? You’re doing the exact same thing to me. You think I love knowing I can make you come but can’t make you stay? You’re gutting me, pretty girl. Every time you run, it’s another piece torn out. So tell me, who’s really the cruel one here?”

  Motherfucker’s got me there.

  “If I have to torture your body while you keep tearing my fucking heart out, then so be it. I’ll get through to you one way or another.” He drags his thumb across my lips, fingers hooking under my jaw to hold me still. “I’ve missed this mouth so much. I want to kiss you so bad.”

  His grip tightens around my throat the second his fingers start moving again, and God help me, I want him. I don’t want to, but I do.

  He leans in, close enough that his mouth brushes the edge of mine, and I can feel the way he’s holding himself back. He wants to kiss me, and it’s killing him not to. I see it in the way his eyes drop to my mouth, like he’s one second away from saying Fuck it and taking what he wants.

  “Do it,” I whisper, my breath shaking.

  Kiss me.

  End me.

  I’ll be yours.

  “No.”

  As much as it costs him to deny me, it hurts just as much to hear it.

  He’s still inside me, fucking me like he knows my body better than I ever did, and I’m falling harder than I have before… until he rips himself away and the ache in my body turns to fire.

  “Fucker!”

  “Is that your safe word?” he taunts, smirking like the sadistic bastard he is.

  “Phoenix… I can’t…”

  “What? Is it torture? Does it feel like you want to crawl out of your fucking skin because it hurts too much to be touched like this? Does it feel like you’re about five seconds from dropping to your knees and begging for whatever the hell I’ll give you?”

  “Yes,” I confess.

  “Good. Now maybe you feel a fraction of what I’ve carried all these years.”

  “Please…”

  “Please what, baby?”

  “Please let me come,” I beg, and his fingers thrust deeper.

  My orgasm is building fast, tightening every muscle in my body. I’m moaning helplessly, clinging to him, my hips grinding down on his hand like my body already belongs to him… and only him.

  “I swear if you stop, I’ll finish myself off.”

  “And I’ll fuck my fist while you do it. So don’t threaten me with a good time because I’ve been hard since the second I smelled how wet this cunt was for me.”

  My eyes fall to his mouth, craving something he's been refusing to give me.

  “Please…”

  He hears every unsaid word.

  That I need him to kiss me.

  “No. Not like this. Not while you’re begging with your pussy instead of your mouth.”

  Something inside me needs to prove to him this isn’t just my body reacting. Because deep down, in that place where all my darker urges live, part of me needs more than this twisted, perfect hate fuck.

  “Can I touch you?” I whisper, and shock flares in his eyes as they meet mine.

  He dips his chin once, his fingers still working inside me as if he’s doing everything in his power not to break whatever fragile thing is happening between us.

  My hand slides down, freeing him from his pants. He’s not just aroused. He’s aching, and the second I touch him, his breath leaves him in one rough exhale, like he wasn’t ready for how it would feel. And maybe I wasn’t either because here I am touching Phoenix—not for leverage, revenge, or control, but because I want to. With every second my hands stay on him, I’m accepting him a little bit more, and as dangerous as this feels, as much as it terrifies me, I can’t stop.

  “You really haven’t been touched before?”

  “Never.” His forehead drops to mine, his eyes squeezed shut like the sensation might rip him apart. “I don’t belong to anyone but you. No one else gets to touch me but you.”

  “Does this feel good?” I ask, stroking him up and down, my thumb rubbing circles around his tip. “Does it feel different from when you touch yourself?”

  “It feels… It’s everything. I… fuck, baby.”

  He pulls his fingers free and coats his cock in my arousal, deliberately brushing his fingers over mine, touching me where I’m touching him, needing to feel it to believe it’s really happening.

  “You’re touching me,” he whispers, almost to himself, before pushing two fingers back inside me.

  His hand slides into my hair, fingers threading through it before he tips my head back, forcing my eyes to his.

  “I love you.”

  He doesn’t expect me to say it back.

  I can tell by the way he’s looking at me that he’s not waiting. He just needs me to hear it, even if I can’t give him the same words in return.

  “One day, I’m gonna fuck you until your body forgets it ever existed without mine. I’ll be buried so deep inside you that nothing else will matter, and you’ll tell me you love me and mean it because by then, baby, you won’t even know how to exist without me.”

  His cock is heavy in my hand, pulsing against my palm. He’s right there—so close to the edge he’s leaking for me.

  “Now come for me, pretty girl… I need you to come with me.”

  His words hit harder than his touch, commanding my body in a way it can’t ignore. My orgasm crashes through me so violently, I don’t have time to understand what’s happening. One second, I’m right there, riding the edge. The next thing I know, I’m soaking myself, Phoenix, and the desk.

  I cry out his name, my hand freezing around his cock mid-stroke. When I finally manage to open my eyes, he’s staring at me like a miracle just erupted in his hands.

  My hand starts to move again, and he lets out a deep, guttural “Fuuuck” that vibrates through his chest just before his release spills across my fingers.

  Jesus Christ. Did I just squirt?

  Our chests rise and fall, bodies pushed close, yet it still doesn’t feel close enough, and honestly? I don’t think either of us has a clue what just happened to me.

  “Have you ever—” he starts, still breathless, and I can tell he’s unsure if he even wants the answer.

  “No.”

  “You’re okay? That was okay?”

  I nod, still trying to come down from the most intense orgasm of my life. “Definitely okay.”

  I’ve never felt pleasure like that before.

  I’ve never felt like my body doesn’t belong to me anymore, and, of course, it had to be Phoenix who found the part of me I didn’t even know was hidden.

  Chapter 13

  Phoenix

  “Can I touch you?”

  I swear to god, I’ll never forget those words. Not the way she said them, so soft and unsure, like she didn’t know she was speaking to a man who’s been starved his entire life for her hands.

  Of course the answer was yes.