Chapter 4 ECSTACY
Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
Wyatt’s POV
She’s still drunk. She was still swaying on her feet, her body moving to the music.
And I’m still standing here, my fists clenching and unclenching at my sides, watching her drape herself over me like I’m the only thing tethering her to this fucking earth.
Her perfume’s a mixture of cheap liquor, faint vanilla, and something uniquely hers. It is soft, sweet, and dangerous. I feel the heat pooling low in my stomach the moment her hands slide up my chest, her fingers trailing over the fabric of my shirt like it’s a map she intends to memorize.
Her eyes are half-lidded, and glassy but it's shining under the light as she tilts her head back and looks at me like I’m her salvation.
Does she even know I am the one?
‘Matthew…’ she breathes, her voice soaked with need, thick with alcohol and something darker. ‘I need you.’
Matthew? Who the fuck was Matthew? And why the hell does my blood boil at the thought that there might be other men in her life?
My jaw tightens so hard it aches. My hands twitch, aching to grab her, pin her against the wall, bend her to my will but I force them still. I clench them into fists, my self-control strangling me from the inside out.
‘You don’t know what you’re asking for, Птичка.’ My voice is low, rough. Almost a warning. She is a little bird who is really seeking for who to cage her. Nurture her.
I don't think she hears my warning. Or maybe she did, she just didn't care.
She presses her body against mine, grinding her hips into me with sloppy, uncoordinated movements, but fuck if it isn’t the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. That short dress rides up her thighs, revealing bare skin I shouldn’t be looking at. Skin I want to mark. Skin I want to own.
Her lips graze my neck, soft and careless, as she whispers against my skin, ‘Please... I need you.’
I breathe out a curse. My hands shoot up, gripping her waist, holding her still but not pulling her closer, not yet. My restraint is hanging by a thread.
‘Птичка,’ I growl, ‘you have no fucking idea what you’re doing.’
But her hands slide lower, fingers brushing against the hard length pressing against my pants, and she laughs. The sound soft, sultry, drunk out of her mind but so fucking seductive.
‘I know exactly what I’m doing,’ she says, her lips brushing my jaw.
I tilt her chin up, forcing her to meet my eyes. Her pupils are blown wide, her cheeks flushed, her lips swollen from biting them. She looks like temptation incarnate.
‘If I take you,’ I say slowly and deliberately, ‘I’m not going to be responsible for what happens to you.’
She smiles. That soft, innocent smile, like a lamb walking right into the wolf’s den.
‘I understand,’ she whispers.
And that’s it. That’s all it takes. That tiny whisper. The last thread snaps.
I grab her wrist and pull her through the crowd, my grip is iron tight and my pace is unforgiving. She stumbles behind me, giggling, breathless, but she doesn’t resist. If anything, she leans into it. I drag her through the private hallways, past the staff, past the closed doors, until we reach my suite above the club. My personal office.
The second the door slams shut, I don’t waste a second.
I shove her against the wall, her back hitting the cold surface and with a soft gasp leaving her lips. My hands grip her throat, holding her there, my thumbs brushing her pulse as it pounds like a trapped bird’s wings. The fucking trapped bird that she is.
Her breath hitches, but her eyes? They stay on me. She didn’t look afraid.
Big mistake. She should be afraid. I'm about to show her why.
‘You wanted this,’ I murmur darkly, ‘so fucking take it.’
My mouth crashes against hers, rough, claiming, brutal. I don’t kiss her to be gentle. I kiss her to punish her for making me want her this badly. Her lips part, welcoming, and I take everything. My tongue slides against hers, deep and possessive, tasting whiskey and sweetness.
I've never been one to kiss during sex, but I can't help myself or the way my body thrums for her.
My hands slide down, grabbing the hem of her dress, yanking it up over her hips. I rip her underwear aside, baring her to me. She gasps against my mouth, her hands clutching at my shirt like she’s holding on for dear life.
‘On your knees,’ I order, my voice sharp, cutting through the fog in her head.
She sinks down to the ground without argument, kneeling on the hard floor, looking up at me with those glassy, fucked-out eyes. My hand wraps roughly in her hair, guiding her to my belt, and she fumbles, drunk and desperate, unbuckling it.
I free myself, my cock heavy, throbbing, aching for her. I wipe off the little bit of precum as I guide her mouth to me, and she opens obediently, her lips wrapping around me, warm and wet and clumsy.
I groan, gripping her hair tighter, guiding her pace. Fast and deep. I don’t give her time to adjust. I shove her head deep, then shallow. Her tongue flicks against the underside of my cock, sending sharp jolts of pleasure up my spine. She moans around me, the vibration making my control crack even further.
But I don’t let myself finish. Not yet.
I pull her off, lifting her up with one hand under her chin. Her lips are swollen, her face flushed, spit glistening on her mouth.
‘You like being used, don’t you?’ I growl.
She nods, breathless.
I turn her around, bending her over the nearest piece of furniture i can find, which is the polished oak desk. I push her face down, my hands pressing her nape down on the desk as she struggles to breathe. I don't care. Her ass is up, bare and exposed. I groan at the sight. I undo the buttons on my shirt with one hand, then release her neck to roll up my sleeves, watching her squirm under me.
‘You asked for this,’ I remind her one last time.
And then I guide my cock into her.
I slam into her, raw and deep, making her cry out. My hand clamps over her mouth, muffling her moans, while my other hand wraps around her throat, squeezing just enough to make her lightheaded.
She pushes back against me, struggling to breathe, her hands tapping at mine. I growl, my eyes raising to meet us in the mirror in fronf of us as i push her body moving to meet every thrust. She cries and the sound– God– the sound is like music to my ears. My pace is merciless. No tenderness. No care. Just pure, dark hunger. The sound of skin slapping against skin, the broken gasps and moans filling the room, the sharp bite of my teeth against her shoulder.
I reach around, fingers pressing against her clit, rubbing circles as I pound into her, relentlessly.
‘Come for me,’ I snarl, ‘now.’
Her whole body tenses, her walls clenching tight around me as she shatters, crying out, her whole body trembling.The sound of it alone pulls me over the edge, and I bury myself deep, groaning as I spill inside her, emptying every ounce of restraint I’d fought so hard to hold.
I don’t move for a moment. I stay there, my chest pressing against her back, breathing hard, my hand still around her throat, her pulse fluttering wildly under my fingers.
Fuck, she feels so good.
Slowly, I pull out. I watch as she collapses onto the desk, spent, her body trembling and marked by me.
I fix my pants, buttoning them back up, then pour myself a glass of whiskey as I stare at her, still sprawled and ruined on my desk. My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out, dialing a number I’ve known by heart.
When the line picks up, I speak calmly, coldly.
‘James. Get my private investigator on the line.’ My gaze drifts back to Constantine. ‘I want everything on Constantine Windsor. Every fucking detail.’
I hang up, my eyes never leaving her.