Isaia: Chapter 27

I’ll never be what she needs. Neither will he.

What Everly needs is a good man with a good job, a white picket fence, and a little girl who looks like her. Definitely the same eyes—mismatched and perfect. Everly doesn’t need men like Rinaldi, Paladino, or me to fuck up her life. And yet, we swarm around her like vultures, each wanting a piece.

I’ll fucking die before I’ll let them get even a goddamn morsel of her.

She’s mine, even though I’m not the good man she deserves. What can I say? I’m a human-shaped inferno, a walking contradiction. A predator, hungry for the one thing I shouldn’t crave.

Every second we spent on my bike on our way here, her arms tight around me, all I could think about was how I wanted to be that for her. The one she holds on to when she needs it. The one who keeps her safe. The one who protects her…as long as she just fucking holds on.

I could be the better man and walk away from her. But the universe knows that’s not in my nature, to be a better man. Just the thought of walking away, leaving her for another man to claim, makes my blood boil, staining the night with vile jealousy.

God, I can’t stand the image.

I feel it clawing at me, gnashing its teeth against the walls of my mind. His scent on her skin, his laugh in her ears. His filthy hands claiming her body. I could rip out spleens and jugulars with just that image fueling me.

Call me fucking crazy, but I thought bringing her here might…I dunno…make me less of an asshole. I wanted to share something with her, something personal, something that could be just ours, away from the noise and the chaos of our lives. I reached real fucking deep, all the way to the darkest pit inside me so I could give her the tiniest glimpse of my soul. Not all of it. God, definitely not all of it. There’s a whole lot of black there. But just…something of me that wasn’t my cock.

I didn’t want this to be about sex, but then she had to wear that fucking dress. And let’s not even start with the book I decided to read while she showered like she’s performing a one-woman show called “How to Waste Time While Isaia Gets Bored Enough to Read Smut.”

And did she really think changing the locks will work? She can deadbolt that fucking door and I’d still find a way inside.

I’m straddling the bike, the metal frame balanced steadily between my legs, staring at the milky skin as the burgundy fabric hikes up her thighs. She’s perched in front of me, her legs draped over mine, her back to the handlebars.

It took me ten minutes to convince her to get on like this, and it still didn’t work, so I grabbed her hips, lifted her and sat her down in front of me, face to face.

The moonlight catches on her bare skin where her dress has ridden up, and fuck, she’s the most dangerous thing I’ve ever laid my eyes on. She’s playing with the hem again, her fingers tugging at it like she can cover what’s already mine.

“What?” she asks, catching me staring.

“You,” I murmur, my hands settling on her hips, pulling her closer. “Sitting on my bike, looking like that. You’re asking for trouble.”

Her cheeks flush. “I thought I was trouble.”

“You’re worse,” I say. “You’re a fucking disaster for me, baby girl.”

Her breath hitches, and before she can throw some smart-ass comment my way, I lean in and kiss her—slowly at first, teasing, coaxing her until she softens and opens for me.

I savor the way she tastes, the subtle, addictive sweetness of her lips paired with the faintest hum of her breath against mine. Her tongue is soft, warm, and maddeningly perfect, moving against mine with a slick, velvety glide that echoes in my balls—my cock already hard for her.

There’s a hesitance at first, a tentative exploration that makes me want to devour her, but when she grows bolder, pressing and teasing with a rhythm that matches mine, it’s like a spark igniting something deeper. Every movement is wet, electric, and utterly addictive, leaving me wanting more of her—more of everything she’s willing to give. I could spend forever like this, kissing her until neither of us can breathe.

Her hands slide into my hair, her nails dragging against my scalp, and I groan into her mouth, my control slipping already.

I slide my hands up her thighs, under her dress, and grip her ass, pulling her harder against my cock, and her moan is like gasoline on a fire. I bite her bottom lip, dragging it between my teeth before I pull back enough to look at her. Her eyes are half-lidded, her breathing uneven. Fuck me, she’s beautiful.

I trail one hand over her hip, along the lacy seam of her panties, letting my finger linger in the crease of her thigh. “You too sore for me, baby girl?”

She shakes her head, cheeks flushed, and I force her to look at me.

“Words, Everly.”

“I want to…I want you,” she whispers, and it’s like a stroke along my shaft.

Those words almost undo me, and my cock throbs, already straining against my pants, but I force myself to stay still. She’s new to this. I’ll ruin her if I let go completely, and that’s not happening. Not yet.

“You take the lead,” I say, reveling in the way her lips part as I stroke her through her damp underwear. “You go as slow as you want.”

I pull the edge of her panties aside, my fingers brushing over her bare pussy, already soaked.

A groan tears from my throat, and I press my thumb to her clit, circling slowly, loving how her body jerks, her hands gripping my shoulders as she gasps, and I swear to God I can come just by watching her like this.

“You’re so wet for me,” I murmur against her neck, my thumb moving faster now. “You like this, don’t you? Knowing I’m holding back, waiting for you.”

She moans, her hips moving against my hand, her breath catching when I slide a finger inside her, then another, stretching her gently.

“You feel so fucking good,” I whisper. “But it’s not enough, is it?”

She shakes her head, her nails biting into my shoulders. “No.”

“Then take me,” I say as I pull my fingers out and guide her hand to my cock. “Take what you need from me, baby girl. Don’t be shy with me.”

The way she bites her lip makes me want to sink my teeth into it. There’s so much uncertainty in her eyes, but I can see the hunger breaking through, the lust shimmering deep. And I make a promise to myself that soon—real fucking soon—I’ll have her so confident in the way she fucks, she won’t hesitate for a second when she craves my cock.

Eyes on me, she loosens my pants, and the stroke of her hand against me has every muscle in my groin pulled fucking taut, and I curse under my breath as she pulls me out, wrapping her palm around me so nice and tight.

She hesitates, her breathing shallow, and I grip her hips, shifting her above me, and she steadies herself with her arms on my shoulders.

“I need to keep the bike steady. If you want me inside you, you’re going to have to climb on my dick, troublemaker.”

Her hair falls like a curtain along the sides of her face as she looks down at me, and I reach between us, one hand on my cock, the other pulling her panties to the side.

Our eyes are locked as she slowly moves down, and I moan when my dick crowns her wet entrance. It’s taking a fuck-ton of control not to sheath myself in her heat.

“Jesus, I’m not even in yet, and I can come right fucking now.”

The whimper she lets out coils tightly around my balls as she lowers herself, slowly, so torturously fucking slowly it takes everything I have not to grab her hips and slam her down.

She’s shaking, and I can’t keep my eyes off her as her lips part, desire taking over. The heat of her is unbearable, gripping me like a velvet vise, slick and impossibly tight as she sinks inch by inch.

Every subtle shift of her hips sends a surge of tension through me, her walls clenching, molding around me. She’s soft, wet, and so perfectly snug it borders on pain, the kind that has my jaw clenching and my hands itching to take control.

“The way you take me,” I murmur, sliding my tongue along her collarbone. “It’s fucking art, baby.”

Every inch of her trembles, and when she’s finally seated fully, she lets out a broken moan that makes me groan in return.

“Fuck,” I breathe, my fingers digging into her hips. “You feel perfect. You know that? So motherfucking perfect…just for me.”

“Hmm-mm.”

I grab her hair with one hand and jerk her head back. “Say it. Who are you so damn perfect for?”

“You,” she breathes. “Just for you.”

“Good girl.”

Her eyes flutter closed, her lips parting as she adjusts to me. I stay still, watching her, memorizing the way she looks like this—vulnerable, powerful, completely mine. Her hands slide to my shoulders, her nails biting into my skin as she starts to move, slowly at first, lifting herself just enough before sinking back down.

“Just like that,” I rasp. “Take my cock the way you need it.”

She starts to ride me, her movements hesitant at first, but then she finds it—the pace that makes her gasp, makes her body arch against mine.

I grip her ass, helping her, but I let her set the pace, let her take control even as it drives me insane.

Her moans grow louder, her movements more frantic, and I know she’s close—I can feel it in the way her pussy flutters around my cock.

I bracket her hip with my hand and press my thumb to her clit, earning myself a beautiful cry from her lips, and her pace quickens, her head falling back as her hips rock against me.

I slide one arm up her back, pulling her closer, my mouth finding the arch of her throat.

“You’re doing so good,” I murmur, my lips grazing her skin. “Keep grinding me like that. Come all over my cock.”

“Isaia…oh, God.”

Her body tightens all at once, her thighs trembling on either side of me as she freezes for a heartbeat, her lips parted, a soft gasp escaping like she’s been struck by something she can’t control.

Her pussy clamps down around me, pulsing in rhythmic waves that send a rush of heat through my cock, and then she lets go completely.

I’m in fucking awe as her head tilts back, exposing the delicate curve of her throat as a moan tear from her lips, her movements desperate as she grinds down on me, chasing every last ounce of her release.

Her nails rake down the sides of my neck, leaving sharp trails of fire in their wake, and the sight of her—flushed, trembling, completely wrecked—burns itself into me, stealing what’s left of my control.

“Jesus Christ.” I grip her hips, holding her in place as I thrust into her, hard and deep. “You’re so warm. So tight. I’m about to come so fucking hard. Fuck!”

I bury myself deep, groaning as I come, my fingers digging into her skin as I hold her against me, filling her with every ounce of my cum.

For the longest time, I keep her there, needing to be inside her as long as possible. This woman’s pussy is fucking cocaine to my self-control—addictive, mind-numbing, and completely wrecking me one hit at a time.

Her body sags against mine, her breath coming in soft, uneven pants as her head rests against my shoulder. I can still feel the heat of her, the way her body clings to me, her thighs trembling faintly around my waist, and I slide my hands up her back, my touch slower now, tracing the curve of her spine as she exhales shakily.

The air between us is heavy, charged with a silence that’s louder than words.

I press my lips to her temple, lingering there as the world around us slowly seeps back in—the rustle of the trees and the distant lap of the lake.

“No one else gets to see you like this,” I murmur against her skin. “No one else gets to have you.”

She doesn’t answer, but the way she tightens her arms around me says enough. The moment feels raw, stripped of all pretense, and I hold her close, grounding myself in the reality of her warmth.

The bike creaks faintly beneath us as she shifts, lifting her head to meet my gaze. Her lips part like she wants to say something, but then she doesn’t. Instead, her fingers trail lightly over my jaw, her touch soft in contrast to everything we’ve just done.

“Is this real?” she whispers. “Are we…real?”

I catch her hand, pressing it flat against my chest, my heartbeat still uneven under her palm.

“This is real, troublemaker,” I tell her, the words slipping out before I can stop them. “You and me. We’re fucking real.”

Her breath catches, and she nods slowly, eyes locked on mine, wide and searching.

And for the first time, I think she might believe it.