Liam
Her lips were still on mine when the last shred of control I had left snapped in two.
The moment Harley kissed me—really kissed me—everything I'd been trying to bury came flooding to the surface. The way her mouth moved with mine, needy and unafraid, it wrecked me. She tasted like red wine and heartbreak and defiance. And I wanted more.
No. I needed more.
She straddled my lap like she was born to sit there. Like she was done waiting and had finally decided to take. And hell, I was done pretending I didn't want to be taken. My hands were on her hips, but I wasn't guiding her—she was guiding me. Tilting her head, grinding just enough to make me clench my jaw and shut my eyes for a second, like that would help me stay sane.
It didn't.
"You don't know what you're doing to me," I told her, almost a growl. A warning.
But she smiled. That wicked, dangerous little smile that said she knew exactly what she was doing.
And then she said it—"Then show me."
The words crashed into me like a damn tidal wave.
I didn't even realize I'd stood up, lifting her effortlessly, until I felt her legs wrap around my waist. My hands slid under her thighs, gripping her ass as she gasped against my neck. I walked us to her room like a man possessed, like she was mine to take—and fuck, in that moment, she was.
I kicked the door shut behind us, and the sound echoed like a gunshot.
I laid her on the bed, my body hovering above hers, just staring.
Her hair was splayed over the pillow, those eyes so wide and trusting, lips swollen from my kiss. She looked like chaos and heaven wrapped in silk sheets. I couldn't move for a second. Just looked.
Because I knew what was about to happen—and once I went there, once I touched her the way I wanted, there'd be no going back.
And still—I leaned down, kissed her again. Slower this time. Deeper.
Because it wasn't just lust.
It was a craving.
It was a damn need that'd been clawing at my insides for months.
I kissed her like I wanted to memorize her mouth. Her taste. The way she whimpered when I bit her bottom lip and sucked it between mine. Her hands fisted in my shirt like she needed me closer, harder, rougher.
She had no idea what she was asking for.
My fingers slipped under her shirt, and the feel of her skin… soft, warm, trembling just a little… it made something primal rise in my chest.
And the thoughts that followed? They weren't sweet. They weren't gentle.
No, they were filthy.
I wanted her soaked. Spread. Screaming.
I wanted to bury my face between her thighs until she forgot her own name.
I wanted to make her say mine—with her mouth, with her body, with the way she came apart under me.
I peeled her shirt up slowly, dragging the fabric over her stomach, her ribs… kissing every inch I uncovered like I had all the time in the world, but I didn't. I was starved.
And when I saw her—bare, in nothing but her lace bra and that look in her eyes—I damn near lost it.
"You're not going to stop me now, are you?" I asked, voice rough.
She shook her head, breathless. "No."
That's all I needed.
I kissed down her neck, slow and biting. Left marks. My marks. My hands moved lower, gripping her waist, then sliding beneath the band of her leggings.
She lifted her hips for me—unspoken permission.
I stripped them off her, slowly, teasing her, watching her shiver. And there she was, laid out in front of me, like sin and surrender in human form.
God help me, I'm going to ruin her.
But I didn't say it.
Not yet.
Instead, I ran my hands up her thighs, spreading them, and leaned in, watching her squirm as I kissed the inside of her knee, her thigh, higher and higher.
I hovered just above the soaked fabric of her panties and exhaled.
She trembled.
I looked up, met her eyes, and said, "You don't get to back out now."
"I don't want to."
My fingers curled around the lace, and I dragged it down torturously slow. When she was bare, I took a step back, undid the buttons of my shirt one by one,then my pants, and when they fell to the ground she swallowed. Hard.
She watched me like she was hypnotized. Like she didn't know where to look first.
Good.
Because I was about to give her everything she didn't know she needed.
I dropped to my knees at the edge of her bed like I was about to pray.
And in a way, I was.
Because Harley wasn't just some woman lying in front of me. She was the altar, and I was about to worship.
She gasped when I grabbed her thighs and pulled her to the edge of the bed, hard enough to make the mattress groan under the sudden shift. Her breath hitched, her legs falling open for me without hesitation—and God, she was already glistening. Wet. Ready. Needy.
"Fuck…" I muttered under my breath, running one hand up her inner thigh. I could feel how hot she was. How soft. How badly she wanted this. Wanted me.
I looked up. Her head was tilted back, chest rising and falling fast, her fingers tangled in the sheets. She was shaking, just barely, but I saw it. Felt it.
She was unraveling—and I hadn't even touched her properly yet.
"You're shaking," I murmured, dragging my thumb just shy of her folds, not quite touching where she wanted me most.
"I want…" she started, voice trembling.
"What?" I whispered, hovering over her pussy like a starving man, breathing her in, teasing her with the heat of my mouth.
"You," she breathed. "Please, Levi."
That word—please—tore through every last wall I had.
I dove in.
The first swipe of my tongue made her jolt, and I groaned into her, deep and guttural, because fuck, she tasted like heaven and sin and everything I'd ever craved. Sweet and warm and soaked for me. Only me.
I licked her slow, flat tongue from bottom to top, then circled her clit once—twice—until her thighs quivered and she gasped my name like a confession.
"Levi—oh God—"
"Not God," I muttered, voice thick and rough against her. "Just a man who's gonna make you forget every one before me."
Then I locked my arms around her thighs and buried myself deeper. I devoured her. Sucked her clit between my lips, flicked it with my tongue, then pulled back to tease the sensitive bundle with the tip of it, slow and rhythmic, relentless.
Her hands flew to my hair, fingers tangling hard, pulling me closer, anchoring herself to me like she'd fall apart if she didn't.
"fuck—don't stop—"
I couldn't if I wanted to. I was addicted. Her moans were my fuel. The way she squirmed, tried to close her legs but couldn't because I was holding her wide open—that was power. And fuck, I was drunk on it.
I slid two fingers inside her without warning—tight, wet, perfect—and she cried out so loud it echoed off the walls.
Her hips bucked, her thighs clenched around my face, and I groaned again because she was pulsing around my fingers already. So damn close.
"Come for me, Harley," I growled against her clit. "Right on my tongue. I want to taste it."
She shattered.
Her whole body arched, back bowing off the mattress as she screamed, raw and breathless. Her walls squeezed around my fingers, and her slick coated my mouth, my chin, and I didn't stop licking. Not even when she cried out from the oversensitivity. I licked her through it, through every last tremor, until she collapsed back onto the bed with a sob and a whispered, "Oh my God…"
I rose slowly, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, looking down at her like I'd just committed a beautiful, filthy sin.
Her skin was flushed, glowing, lips parted, eyes glazed over like I'd wrecked every thought in her head.
And I had.
I crawled over her again, kissing her stomach, her ribs, her collarbone—trailing my way back up to her mouth.
"You still want more?" I asked, voice low and dangerous.
She nodded slowly. "Yes."
I smirked, letting her feel how hard I was, pressing against her entrance.
"Then I hope you're ready to be ruined."
I kissed her—slow at first.
Not because I wasn't desperate, but because I needed to feel her melt into it. I wanted her lips, soft and parted, her hands curling into my shoulders, her legs wrapping around my waist like they belonged there.
And fuck, she did melt.
Her mouth opened under mine, greedy and warm, tongue tangling with mine in a kiss so deep it made me groan into her mouth. My hand cupped the side of her face, the other gripping her hip, holding her there—right under me. Right where she was supposed to be.
My cock throbbed, hard and aching against her entrance, and when I shifted just enough, I felt the tip brush her soaked folds.
We both gasped.
I pulled back just enough to whisper, "You still want this?"
She nodded, breathless. "Yes… please, Levi."
That fucking "please" again. That was it.
I pushed inside her—slow, steady, every thick inch stretching her open until I was buried deep.
My eyes squeezed shut. My head dropped. Fuck.
She was tight. Hot. Silken walls clenching around me like she was trying to keep me there forever. And I wanted to stay. Wanted to live in this heat, this wet, this goddamn heaven that was Harley.
She moaned beneath me, legs tightening around my hips, and I felt her nails dig into my back.
"Levi…" she whimpered. "You feel so good…"
That did it.
Whatever control I had snapped like a thread pulled too tight.
I started to move—deep, slow thrusts that had her gasping, writhing. But it wasn't enough. I couldn't be gentle. Not with her. Not when she kept whispering my name like a curse and a prayer, not when she arched up to meet every thrust like she wanted me to break her in half.
My pace quickened. My grip on her hips tightened. I slammed into her harder, deeper, and the sound of skin against skin filled the room—filthy, wet, perfect.
She shook beneath me.
Her whole body trembled with every thrust, every moan torn from her throat. Her legs wrapped tighter around me, her head thrown back, eyes fluttering shut as she drowned in the pleasure I gave her.
"Fuck—you're taking me so good," I groaned, voice raw. "You were made for me. This pussy was made for me."
"Yes—yes, Levi," she cried out, hips meeting mine. "Harder…"
I gave it to her. Brutal, deep strokes that had her clenching around me, screaming my name into the sheets. My hand slid up to her throat, not squeezing—just holding. Owning. And fuck, the way she moaned when I did… it pushed me over the edge.
"Say it," I growled, slamming into her again. "Say you're mine."
"I'm yours," she gasped. "I'm—fuck—yours, Levi!"
Her words pulled something wild out of me. I drove into her again and again, chasing the feeling of her wrapped around me, soaked and shaking and so fucking perfect.
She was close. I could feel it. Her body tensed, thighs trembling, her moans turning into broken, desperate cries.
"Come for me," I ordered, voice rough and low against her ear. "All over my cock."
She shattered—again.
Her walls clamped down on me so tight it dragged me right over the edge with her. I roared her name, burying myself to the hilt one last time as I spilled inside her, filling her with everything I had.
We were both shaking when I collapsed over her, bodies slick with sweat, breaths ragged and tangled together.
I pressed a kiss to her neck, then her jaw, then her lips—softer now.
But the fire?
The fire still burned.
Because one taste of Harley would never be enough.
Not for me.