“Fuck,” he whispers. I grin because I know I won. He smashes his lips into mine, shoving his tongue in time with his thrashing hips. My back slams into the wall with his every move. One large hand squeezes my breast, while the other holds me in the air.
He breaks our kiss to suck at the sensitive spot on my neck. Groaning, his pace quickens, filling the silence of the alleyway with our breathy moans and the sounds of our bodies slamming into each other.
“Say it, baby.” He releases my breast and removes my hand over my clit, sucking my fingers before he replaces my arm around his neck. “Say you’re mine.”
Tightening my hold, I writhe under him. He hovers his mouth over mine, and I finally give him what he wants, sighing, “Forever.”
He pounds into me harder. His fingers dig into the back of my thighs. Canting my hips forward, I meet him thrust for thrust. My clit throbs, aching. I need more. I want more.
He repositions his arms, inserts one hand between us, and massage my clit with his thumb. “That’s it, baby. I know exactly what you need.” He increases his hard, penetrating thrusts. I start to tremble. “Fuck, yes, right there. Come for me, baby.” He slams into me, again and again, taking my mouth with his.
Lightning flashes behind my eyelids. My body thrums in pleasure, and my pussy clenches around his thick length. Dropping my head onto his shoulder, I cry out as a strong wave of ecstasy rips through my core. He follows right behind me, burying his face in the nape of my neck, and emits his own cry of release.
His hips slow their rhythm. He presses his lips tenderly against my own. “I missed you,” he murmurs.
Chapter 50
So Many Emotions
LIAM
TWO WEEKS AGO:
March 14, 2025: 10:33 p.m.
Luna Solar City: Concert Venue
Iwatch the show from afar with a slew of emotions running through me—pride, awe, admiration, and love. Watching Jessica sing as her alter ego ‘G,’ then watching her as herself walking the runway in her designer clothing. With everything she endured these past three years, I am so damn proud she took this leap—that is, until she comes out without her mask.
Jealousy overwhelms me, especially when that male model removes her trench coat. I want to jump up on the stage and kill him.
The man to my left starts to grope his mate, and the one on my right adjusts his pants, breathing hard. I itch to grab him by the throat and inform him that his hard-on is for my girl. If he wants to keep it, he needs to control his shit.
Sure, other models flaunt around in less clothing, but I only have eyes for her. I’m a cocky bastard, and my ego is pretty big. I always think everyone is after my girl. Instead of losing my temper, I clench my hands to my sides.
During the closing song of the night, Jessica steps out surrounded by other models, all faux-leather dresses in different styles similar to what a submissive or a dominant would wear. Akiyo moves alongside her, harmonizing with her. Her song is seductive, powerful, and dangerous—all about women being viewed as submissive, but they have power. They are in control and fearless.
The backdrop suddenly flashes a picture of Emily. I know exactly what my girl is doing, sending a big fuck-you message to the Resistance. She is done hiding, and if they want her, they need to come get her. Fear and fury grip my gut.
I move just as the song ends, intending to seek her out before anyone else finds her. It’s been so long since I last saw her. I miss her so fucking much. The sight of her alone drives me over the edge.
I find her in the alley. I catch her scent, and I am done. I can’t even finish what I intended to, which is get her the fuck out of here and tear her ass apart for her performance. When she urges me to fuck her, how the hell can I say no?
The irrational part of my brain still wants to punish her for risking her life, for torturing me. I make her plead and pant, struggling for more of what only I can give her. Be damned that we fuck up against a wall in the middle of an alleyway. I’ve taken her in worse places when she drives me absolutely crazy.
And Jessica knows exactly how to turn the tables on me. I cave, giving her exactly what she wants. But I want it, too. We remain in our postcoital bliss, smashed against the wall, unmoving, catching our breath, breathing in each other’s scents.
I miss her so much. It kills me that I have to stay away.
She finally breaks the silence between us. “How long are you staying this time?”
I wince at her words. They no longer carry an undertone of irritation or sadness. No, Jessica accepted our way long ago. She never questions it, never fights it, although sometimes I wish she would. More specifically, my ego needs reassurance that she still wants me as much as I still want her.
I gently kiss her lips. “A couple of days.” I slide out of her and guide her down onto her feet. Once she’s steady, I cup her face in both of my hands and kiss her again. I search her face and find hints of sadness and worry that weren’t there before.
She steps back to adjust her clothing, avoiding my gaze. I stare at her, adjusting my pants and tucking in my shirt. “Talk to me, baby. What’s going on?”
“A lot has happened since I saw you last. It’s been one hell of a day.”
