Chapter 23 23
FREYA POV
“Are you avoiding me?”
I said, staring straight at his face. I was looking for any crack in that stone cold expression, but there was nothing. My heart felt like it was literally breaking into jagged pieces right there in my chest. All those days of pretending I was fine, all the hours spent acting like his silence didn't hurt, it all just gave way. The tears I’d been fighting back finally crawled out, hot and messy, blurring everything.
“If you are going to do this to me, why the hell were you being nice?” I raised my voice. I didn't even care who heard me anymore.
He just stood there, tall and silent, which only made me crazier.
“Why were you being nice? Why were you fighting for me? Why were you claiming me like you couldn’t let go of me?” The words were just tumbling out now. “You asked me if I still consider Mark as my husband. My answer is no. It’s a freak no.”
"I’m giving him a fucking divorce letter the next time I lay eyes on him."
"All I wanted was my daughter's love back, and you made that happen in a way I can't even explain."
"So, why the hell are you ghosting me?"
I stepped closer, my hand white-knuckled on the door handle.
“If you are angry, why can’t you just say it, you fucking coward? Why can’t you just speak? Or just punish me if you have to go that far.”
“Punish me, motherfucker”
By now I was a total wreck. I was crying so hard I could barely see him, all the past days of acting tough just collapsing at once. I looked up through the salt and the stinging in my eyes and saw his lips move.
He smirked. Yes. He smirked a dark, twisted smirk that made my blood run cold.
“Did you just smirk? You psycho!” I snapped, my voice cracking.
Steve leaned in, his eyes turning into something pitch black. He didn't look tired anymore. He looked dangerous.
“Punishment,” he growled. The sound was low, vibrating right through my skin. “Will you take the punishment, Freya?”
“I-I——
Before I could even get a word out, his hand shot out and gripped my arm. He hauled me inside and the door slammed shut so hard the walls seemed to shake. In one blurred move, he had me pinned. My back hit the door and his bare, warm chest was right there, trapping me.
“Punishment”
His breath was hot on my lips, that growl still echoing in my ears. “Careful what you beg for, Freya,” he said again, his voice rough like gravel scraping skin. His fingers tightened around my throat just enough to make my pulse jump under his thumb. I couldn’t move, pinned against the door, his thigh wedged between my legs, pressing hard against my core. My robe was the only thing between us, and I felt every inch of him—hard, unyielding, like he was carved from stone.
Steve’s eyes locked on mine, dark and hungry. He didn’t say a word at first. Just looked at me, really looked, like he was stripping me bare with his gaze. His nose brushed my jaw, slow, deliberate. He inhaled deep, like he was scenting me, and then he traced down. Down my neck, his breath hot and teasing, making my skin prickle. I shivered, my body betraying me already. His nose skimmed lower, over my collarbone, down to where my robe gaped open a bit at the top. My breasts were peeking out, the curve of them exposed, nipples already hard from the chill and the heat building inside me.
He paused there, nose nudging the edge of the fabric. “Fuck, you smell good,” he muttered, voice low and growly. Then his hands moved. One stayed on my throat, holding me in place. The other tugged at the belt of my robe, and the robe fell open, sliding off my shoulders, pooling at my elbows. I was naked under it—
Steve’s eyes raked down my body, taking it all in. “Look at you,” he growled, that psycho smirk creeping back. His nose dipped lower, tracing the swell of my breast, brushing over the skin. He nuzzled in, rough stubble scratching me, and then his tongue flicked out. Licked the curve, slow and wet. I gasped, heat flooding between my legs. He did it again, tongue flat, dragging up to my nipple. He circled it, teasing, then sucked it into his mouth hard. Teeth grazed, not biting yet, but enough to make me arch against the door.
“Oh God,” I whispered, my hands coming up instinctually. I wanted to touch him, grab his hair, pull him closer. My fingers brushed his shoulders, but he stopped and pulled back sharp.
“No,” he snarled, grabbing my wrists in one big hand. He slammed them up over my head, pinning them to the door. His body pressed harder into mine, thigh grinding up against my pussy. I was wet already, slick and aching, the friction making me whimper.
“You dare not touch me. Freya Thus is your punishment. You receive. You obey..”
His voice was pure heat, that deep growl vibrating through me. It made my core clench, wetness dripping down my thighs. —hell, I was losing it.
“Steve,” I muttered, voice breaking. I tried to pull my hands free, but he held tighter, his grip like iron.
“Hands up,” he ordered, eyes flashing. “Keep them there. ”
I nodded, breath coming in my pants. My arms shook, but I kept them raised, palms flat against the door above my head. He let go of my wrists, but his stare dared me to drop them. Then he went back to work. His mouth on my other breast now, sucking hard, tongue swirling. He bit down lightly, tugging the nipple, and I moaned loud. The sound echoed in the room, raw and needy.
His hands roamed. One slid down my side, fingers digging into my hip, pulling me tighter against his thigh.
I was on fire. Wet heat pooled between my legs, my pussy throbbing. Kisses turned to bite down my ribs, his tongue dipping into my navel. He knelt a bit, still pinning me with his body, and his nose traced my hip bone. Inhaled deep again.
“So fucking wet for me already.” His fingers slid between my thighs, parting them wider. One thick finger teased my entrance, circling the slickness.
I muttered his name again, “Steve,” hips jerking forward. Tried to grab him, but remembered—hands up. They stayed, trembling.
“Good girl,” he growled, voice like sex itself. “Obey, ” Then he pushed in.
One finger, deep and slow. I gasped, walls clenching around him. He added another, stretching me, curling them up to hit that spot inside. His thumb found my clit, rubbing circles, rough and insistent.
I couldn’t control the moaning again
“Fuck… Steve… yes.”
My body rocked against his hand, the door creaking behind me. Everything was messy—sweat on my skin, my juices coating his fingers. He pumped them faster, scissoring, stretching. His mouth joined in, licking down to my thigh, biting the inner flesh hard enough to mark.
I was heat everywhere. Pussy dripping, breasts aching. He sucked on my clit suddenly, mouth hot and wet, tongue flicking fast. Fingers still thrusting. I moaned louder.
“Don’t stop… oh God.”
He pulled back just to growl, “This is punishment, remember? You take what I give.” Then back in, sucking harder. His free hand grabbed my ass, squeezing, pulling me onto his face. Tongue delved in alongside his fingers, lapping up my wetness like he was starving.
My legs shook. Standing was hard, but he held me up, body trapping me. Moans turned to cries. “Steve… I’m… fuck.” The pressure built, coiling tight in my belly.
He added a third finger, stretching me wide. Thumb on my clit, pressing down. “Come for me,” he ordered, voice muffled against me. “Now.”
I shattered. The orgasm hit hard, waves crashing through me. I screamed his name, body convulsing, pussy clenching around his fingers. Juices gushed, soaking his hand, his chin. My hands slipped a bit, but I caught them, keeping them up. Tears pricked my eyes again—from the intensity, the release.
He didn’t stop right away. He kept fingering slowly, drawing it out, sucking gently until I whimpered. Then he pulled back, stood up. Wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, with his eyes on mine.
“Luna is waiting for you,” he said, sounding so casual, like nothing happened.
Turned away to the bathroom, leaving me slumped against the door, robe half-off, body still trembling.