Chapter 51 Chapter Fifty
ARA
The elevator doors sealed shut with a soft hiss, trapping us inside the mirrored box.
Thayne’s hand shot out and slammed the emergency stop button.
The car jerked once, then went perfectly still, suspended between floors. The sudden silence was deafening, broken only by my ragged breathing and the low thud of my heart.
He didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. His eyes—those burning green eyes—said everything.
Hunger. Anger. Possession.
But what was he angry for? If there was anyone who had the right to feel angry, it was me. After everything that had happened in the past weeks, I deserved to be angry.
He closed the distance in one stride, crowding me against the cool metal wall. His palms slammed on either side of my head, caging me in.
“You think you can run from me?” His voice was low, rough, like gravel dragged over silk. “You think I’d let you?”
I opened my mouth to snap back, to tell him there was no point in reminding me I was stuck by his side forever, but his lips crashed into mine, swallowing every word.
The kiss was brutal—teeth, tongue, pure claim. He tasted like mint and fury and something darker that made my knees weak.
I shoved at his chest, furious, hurting, but he only pressed harder, grinding his body against mine until I felt every hard inch of him.
His hand slid under my skirt in one smooth move, fingers hooking into my panties and ripping them clean off.
The lace tore like paper. Cool air hit my bare skin, then his hot palm cupped me, two thick fingers sliding through my slick folds without warning.
I gasped into his mouth. I was already soaked. Traitorous body.
“Fuck, Little Lamb,” he growled against my lips.
“You’re dripping for me. Even when you hate me, this pussy knows who it belongs to.”
I wanted to deny it. I wanted to slap him. Instead I moaned, loud and broken, when he shoved those two fingers deep inside me and curled them hard.
My walls clenched around him instantly, greedy, desperate. He pumped once, twice, then added a third finger, stretching me open while his thumb circled my clit in tight, ruthless circles.
My head fell back against the mirror, eyes fluttering shut. The elevator lights were bright, unforgiving, reflecting us from every angle—my skirt bunched at my waist, his huge hand working between my thighs, my juices already coating his wrist.
I looked like a slut. His slut.
“Look at me,” he ordered.
I forced my eyes open. His stare was feral.
“You don’t get to hide. Not tonight.”
He dropped to his knees without warning, shoving my skirt higher. Before I could breathe, his mouth was on me—hot, wet, merciless.
His tongue speared inside me, fucking me in quick, dirty thrusts before dragging up to suck my clit so hard my vision went white.
I screamed, fingers yanking at his hair, hips bucking against his face.
He pinned my thighs wider, growling against my pussy. The vibration shot straight to my core.
He ate me like a starving man—lapping, sucking, biting my swollen lips until I was shaking, sobbing, grinding shamelessly on his tongue.
My juices ran down his chin, dripped onto the elevator floor, but he didn’t care. He shoved his tongue deeper, nose pressed against my clit, and I came with a wail, thighs clamping around his head, flooding his mouth.
He didn’t stop.
He stood up, licking his lips clean, eyes never leaving mine as he unbuckled his belt. The clink of metal echoed in the small space.
His cock sprang free—thick, long, angry red at the tip, already leaking. My mouth watered even as my heart pounded.
He grabbed my throat—not hard, just enough to tilt my face up—and walked me backward until my spine hit the handrail.
Then he lifted me like I weighed nothing, my legs wrapping around his waist on instinct.
“Tell me to stop,” he rasped, the head of his cock nudging my entrance, sliding through my wetness.
“Say it and I will.”
I couldn’t. God help me, I couldn’t.
Instead I sank down on him, taking every brutal inch in one slick drop. We both groaned—raw, filthy sounds that bounced off the walls.
He was so big he burned, stretching me until I felt split open, impaled, owned.
He didn’t give me time to adjust. He pulled out and slammed back in, hard enough that my back scraped the rail.
Again. And Again. His hips snapped with punishing force, driving into me so deep I felt him in my throat.
“Thayne—” It came out as a broken sob.
“That’s right,” he snarled against my ear. “Say my name while I fuck the attitude out of you.” I didn't have the willpower to tell him he was the reason I had an attitude.
He shifted angles, hitting that spot inside that made my eyes roll back. My nails clawed his shoulders through his shirt.
Every thrust jolted my clit against his pelvis, sparks shooting up my spine. I was already climbing again, embarrassingly fast.
His hand slid between us, thumb finding my clit and rubbing hard, fast circles. “Come on my cock, Arayna. Show me who this pussy answers to.”
I shattered—screaming, gushing around him, my whole body seizing as the orgasm tore through me.
He swallowed my cries with his mouth, fucking me through it, dragging it out until I was limp and trembling.
But Thayne wasn’t finished.
He pulled out suddenly, spun me around, and bent me over the handrail. My palms slapped the mirror for balance.
I caught our reflection—my face flushed, lips swollen, eyes wrecked. Behind me, Thayne looked like sin itself, shirt half-open, cock glistening with my cream.
He kicked my feet wider and drove back in from behind. This new angle was deeper, filthier. His hand fisted my hair, yanking my head back so I had to watch us fuck in the mirror.
“Look at you,” he rasped, pounding into me so hard my tits bounced free from my top.
“Taking my cock like you were made for it. Because you were.”
I couldn’t speak—only broken moans and the wet slap of his hips against my ass filled the elevator. He reached around, pinched my clit, and I came again, harder, squirting down my thighs in messy pulses.
The sound we were making was obscene.
“That’s my good girl,” he praised, his voice ragged. “Milk me. Take every drop.”
His rhythm faltered. His grip tightened. With a guttural curse, he buried himself to the hilt and exploded, flooding me with hot, thick spurts that I felt pulse deep inside me .
He kept thrusting through it, grinding, making sure I took it all.
We stayed locked like that, panting, sweat-slick, his cock still twitching inside me. Slowly he pulled out, and I whimpered at the loss.
His cum immediately leaked down my thighs, mixing with mine, dripping onto the polished floor.
He turned me gently, cupped my face, and kissed me. Slowly, deeply, almost tender.
When he pulled back, his eyes were still dark, but softer.
“I’m not letting you go, Little Lamb,” he murmured against my lips. “Not Nadia. Not even my father. Not anyone. You’re mine.”