Chapter 78

Chapter 78
Mika barely had time to breathe before Seamus grabbed her, his hands rough, desperate, pulling her flush against him. His mouth crashed against hers, all hunger and need, no hesitation. His grip was bruising, like he was trying to anchor himself to her, to this moment, to the only thing in his world that had ever felt real.
There were no words left between them. No planning, no second-guessing. Only this.
His hands tore at her clothes, yanking the jacket from her shoulders, peeling her shirt over her head. His teeth scraped her jaw as he moved down her neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark, to brand her. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling, demanding, dragging him deeper into her. Her body burned where he touched, every inch of her screaming for more. She wanted to be consumed, wanted to feel nothing but him, the weight of his body, the roughness of his hands as he stripped her bare.
He groaned into her mouth, his breath ragged as he lifted her onto the metal table, spreading her legs apart as he wedged himself between them. His hands trailed fire down her spine, gripping, claiming, bruising. He wasn’t careful. He wasn’t hesitant. He was raw, unfiltered, his desire for her clawing its way to the surface like something uncontrollable.
She gasped as his lips trailed lower, his stubble scraping her skin, the contrast of his heat against the cold air making her shudder. His mouth found the curve of her breast, his tongue flicking over the sensitive peak before his teeth closed around it, drawing a sharp moan from her lips.
He didn’t want to be gentle. And she didn’t want him to be.
“Don’t hold back,” she whispered, her breath hot against his ear. “Not tonight.”
Something snapped in him.
He lifted her effortlessly, carrying her toward the cot, his mouth never leaving hers. His tongue swept over her lips, claiming her, tasting her, his hands gripping her thighs as he laid her down. When they collapsed onto the mattress, it was frantic, bodies colliding, hands desperate to touch, to take, to remember every inch of skin, every gasp, every shudder.
Time blurred. The room was hot, the air thick with the scent of sweat and desire. His hands roamed her body like he was memorizing her, mapping every scar, every dip, every shiver that wracked through her when he touched her just right. She was fire beneath him, untamed and wild, her hands gripping his arms, his back, her nails biting into his skin as she dragged him closer.
He kissed her like he was trying to drink her in, like he could brand her into him with his mouth alone. She arched against him, her breath coming in sharp, needy gasps as he worked her open, his fingers stroking deep, slow, teasing her to the edge before pulling back, making her beg for more.
“Seamus,” she gasped, her hips rising to meet his touch. “I need you.”
He growled against her throat, his restraint snapping as he yanked her hips up, pinning her beneath him. His breath was hot against her skin as he lined himself up, teasing her with the head of his cock, dragging it through her slick heat, making her whimper, making her body tremble.
Then, with one brutal thrust, he buried himself inside her, stretching her, filling her completely. The air left her lungs in a sharp gasp, pleasure and pain twisting together as he set a punishing rhythm.
There was no softness between them. No hesitation. Only raw, unfiltered hunger. A desperate need to consume each other, to burn this moment into their skin before the world ripped them apart.
She clung to him, their bodies slick with sweat, their breath mingling between gasps and curses. He was everywhere—his hands gripping her thighs, his mouth at her throat, his body claiming her in every way possible. He was relentless, unyielding, dragging her higher and higher until she was gasping his name, her body shattering around him.
She came undone first, her back arching, her cries swallowed by his mouth as she clenched around him, pulling him deeper, until he had no choice but to follow. His body went taut, muscles coiling as he groaned her name, his release as fierce and consuming as the fire between them.
For a long moment, neither of them moved.
He was still inside her, their bodies tangled, their breath slowing but their hearts still racing.
Mika traced a slow, lazy path over his shoulder, memorizing every scar, every ridge of muscle. She felt boneless, weightless, like he had unraveled her completely and put her back together again with his hands, his mouth, his body.
“When this is over,” she whispered, her voice hoarse, “when we walk away from all of this… promise me you’ll still be mine.”
Seamus lifted his head, his gaze heavy, piercing. He didn’t hesitate.
“I’ve always been yours.”
And then he kissed her again, slow this time, lingering, like he was sealing the promise with his mouth. Like he was giving her something more than just his body.
He was giving her himself.