I shattered.
The orgasm ripped through me—violent, blinding, total. My body seized. I screamed into the cushion, voice raw and ruined, and somewhere inside that obliteration, I found exactly what I’d been chasing: the silence, the surrender, the place where I stopped existing and all that remained belonged to him.
He fucked me through every pulse—relentless, brutal—until his rhythm broke. He buried himself to the hilt, hips jerking, and came with a guttural groan that I absorbed through my whole body. Hot, thick pulses flooded me again, spilling out around his cock, and he kept grinding into me—slow now, deep, like he intended to leave part of himself permanently inside me.
When he finally stilled, we trembled together. His forehead dropped against my back. His breath came ragged and hot on my skin. My fingers curled into the cushion beneath me, holding on to something solid because everything else had come undone.
He didn’t pull out right away, stayed buried, his cock still twitching with the last aftershocks, chest heaving against my back. His lips found the shell of my ear—not biting this time, just resting there, breathing me in.
“My perfect girl.” His voice came out wrecked, stripped down to something tender and raw that he’d never let me hear before. One hand stroked down my spine, slow and gentle—the same hand that had fisted my hair, slapped my ass, pinched my clit until I screamed. Gentle now, careful, like I’d become someone worth protecting.
I turned my head just enough to catch his mouth. The kiss landed slowly, lazily, no teeth this time, no blood, justthe taste of salt and sex and us—whatever this unnamed, impossible thing between us had become in a world that didn’t allow softness.
“Again tomorrow?” I whispered against his lips, my voice barely held together.
He laughed, low, dark, a sound that settled warm and dangerous at the base of my spine.
“Baby girl… you’re gonna be limping for days.”
I smiled into his mouth—small, satisfied, already aching for the next time he’d take me apart. His arm tightened around my waist, pulling me closer, and I let him, let my body go slack against his, let my guard stay down for once, here in this quiet room, his heartbeat steady against my back and his cum still leaking warm between my thighs.
The apocalypse could wait.
We had each other to destroy first.
* * *
I woke with a start.
For a second, I didn’t know where I existed. The room hung dim around me, gray morning light seeping through gaps in the hurricane shutters, falling across the office walls in thin, pale strips.
I registered the warmth: no blanket warmth, body warmth, the kind that wraps around you and holds you.
Callan’s arm draped across my waist.
My back pressed flush against his chest, his breathing slow and steady against my hair. His arm rested across mystomach—not gripping, not pulling. Simply there. Heavy and warm and so natural it made my throat tight.
I should have hated it.
I didn’t.
I opened my eyes slowly and turned to see him.
He looked back at me. Already awake.
Watching me.
His hair fell in dark, messy strands across his forehead. One arm still tucked beneath the blanket while the other stayed where it rested, settled against me. His expression held no smugness. No teasing. None of the things I’d braced for.
Careful.
Quiet.
Like he’d been lying there a while, waiting for me to surface, trying to figure out what to say.
“Sloane,” he said softly.
My pulse stumbled.