Chapter 9: Sunset Tease
The stale air inside Liam’s apartment hung thick with the residual scent of sex and sweat and the sweet tension from the night before afternoon sun cut sharp rectangles across the rumpled sheets where they’d deep in the curve of Liam’s arm her back pressed flush against his chest his breath warm breath stirring her hair His hand rested possessively over her sleep breast the pad of his thumb tracing the slept faint bruise left by his teeth slept slept shoulder slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept, slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept slept.
The late afternoon sunlight bled across the terrace, painting the sky in molten orange and bruised purple, bathing Ava in its warm glow. She leaned against the cool glass railing, Liam's oversized sweatshirt still hanging loose around her frame, the fabric brushing her bare thighs. The city sprawled below, indifferent, while her skin tingled with the memory of his mouth, his hands, the deep ache between her legs a constant echo of his possession.
Liam watched her from the doorway, silent, leaning against the frame. The fading light caught the sharp angles of his face, his gaze tracing the curve of her neck, the vulnerable dip where sweatshirt met skin, the faint, darkening bruise his teeth had left high on her shoulder blade. He saw the way she unconsciously touched it, a small, private smile playing on her lips – proof accepted, claimed.
He moved then, a silent predator crossing the smooth tiles. Ava sensed him, a shift in the air, a warmth at her back moments before his hands landed heavily on her hips, spinning her around to face the glass door. Her gasp was soft, swallowed by the vast city hum. He pressed her firmly against the cool, unyielding surface, her body framed by the fiery sky.
His body molded against her back, hard and unyielding, his erection already a thick, insistent pressure against the swell of her ass through his jeans. One hand tangled violently in her hair, fisting near the roots, forcing her head to face forward. "Watch," he commanded, his voice a low rasp in her ear, breath hot against her skin. "Watch that fucking sunset burn out."
His free hand slid beneath the oversized sweatshirt hem, finding bare skin. Calloused fingers danced over her hipbone, tracing the fresh bruises blooming there – marks from the bed, from his grip. "Beautiful," he murmured, almost to himself, before his fingers moved higher, skimming her ribs, finding the soft curve of her breast.
He pinched her nipple through the thin sweatshirt fabric, the sudden sharp pain-pleasure making her arch back against him, a choked moan escaping. "Liam..." His chuckle was dark, vibrating against her neck. He began unbuttoning the front of the sweatshirt she wore, agonizingly slow, each pop of a button a deliberate tease.
His knuckles brushed her bare stomach as he worked downwards, exposing her inch by inch to the dusky light and the city view. Cool air kissed newly revealed skin, tightening her nipples further. His lips found the sensitive spot below her ear, teeth scraping lightly. "This view?" he breathed, his voice thick with lust. "It's nothing. Nothing compared to watching you come undone for me later."
The final button gave way. He pushed the sweatshirt roughly off her shoulders, letting it pool around her elbows, trapping her arms loosely. Her breasts were bare now to the glass, to the city, to his gaze reflected in the pane. He cupped one firmly, squeezing, thumb circling her taut nipple. "Gonna make you scream so loud the whole damn city hears who owns this cunt," he promised, his other hand finally moving lower.
His fingers didn't hesitate, sliding over the curve of her ass, down the crease, finding her bare, swollen folds. She was already slick, dripping. "Fuck, you're soaked," he growled, plunging two thick fingers deep into her cunt without preamble. She cried out, her forehead pressing against the cool glass as he pumped ruthlessly, curling against that spot. "All this wetness just from me talking? From me touching you?"
He scissored his fingers inside her, stretching her, his thumb finding her clit, rubbing punishing circles. "Yeah, take it," he snarled, watching her reflection writhe, her mouth open in a silent gasp. His own jeans were unbearably tight. "Take my fucking fingers. Get that greedy little hole ready for this cock." He added a third finger, the stretch intense, almost painful, his thumb never relenting on her clit. She felt the orgasm building, a terrifying pressure, but he withdrew abruptly, leaving her gasping, empty, trembling violently against the glass.
He released her hair only to unbuckle his belt, the rasp of leather and metal loud in the quiet. He shoved his jeans and boxers down just enough to free his cock, thick and flushed, slapping heavily against her ass cheek. The hot, hard length of him sent a fresh jolt through her. He gripped her hips hard, fingers digging into her bruises, and positioned himself.
The blunt, swollen head of his cock pressed against her slick entrance. He rubbed it up and down, coating himself in her wetness, teasing her clit with the tip. "Tell me whose cunt this is," he demanded, grinding against her, not entering yet, just applying delicious, torturous pressure.
"Yours!" Ava gasped, pushing back against him, desperate to feel him fill her. "Always yours, Liam! Fuck, please!" He rewarded her with a sharp bite on her shoulder, right over the existing bruise, making her cry out again as he slammed forward in one brutal thrust, burying himself to the hilt in her tight, wet heat. "God yes! Fuck!" she screamed, the force driving her hard against the glass.
He held for a second, buried deep, grinding his pelvis against her ass, letting her feel his full thickness stretching her impossibly wide. "Perfect fucking fit," he groaned, the sound guttural. Then he pulled back, almost all the way out, leaving her clenching on emptiness, before driving back in with punishing force. The rhythm was relentless: deep, powerful strokes that hammered her cervix, each impact making the glass pane vibrate faintly against her skin.
His hand snaked around her front, fingers finding her clit again, rubbing hard in time with his thrusts. "Come on, baby," he panted against her ear, sweat dripping from his brow onto her shoulder. "Come on my cock. Squeeze me. Milk this fucking dick." The dual assault was overwhelming. He fucked her hard against the window, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing, his fingers relentless on her clit.
She shattered. Her orgasm ripped through her, violent and convulsing, her inner walls clamping down hard on his invading cock in rhythmic spasms. "Liam! Oh GOD!" she screamed, her vision blurring, body arching uncontrollably against the glass. He grunted, his thrusts becoming wilder, more erratic, losing their brutal precision.
"Fuck! Taking it... taking my cock so good..." He buried himself to the root and held, his body rigid against her back. A harsh groan tore from his throat as his cock pulsed violently, jetting hot streams of cum deep inside her clenching cunt. She felt each thick spurt, the scalding heat, the way his hips jerked shallowly against her ass as he emptied himself.
He slumped against her, his weight pressing her fully against the cooling glass, both of them gasping, slick with sweat. His softening cock slipped from her, followed by a trickle of his release mingling with her own wetness down her inner thigh. He nuzzled the bite mark on her shoulder, his breath ragged. "Mine," he murmured, the word thick with satisfaction and exhaustion. He pulled the sweatshirt back up over her shoulders, a rough gesture of protection. "Inside. Now."
Liam’s command, rough but laced with a weary possessiveness, hung in the air as he guided herded her inside. The sliding door hissed shut, sealing out the cooling city air and the lingering scent of sex and exertion. Ava stumbled slightly on the threshold, her thighs trembling, the sticky warmth between her legs a stark reminder of his forceful claiming against the glass. He steered her towards the rumpled bed, his hand firm on the small of her back, the sweatshirt he’d draped over her shoulders swallowing her frame.
She collapsed onto the edge of the mattress, the springs groaning softly. The room felt cavernous suddenly, charged with the aftermath of violence and release. Liam didn’t join her immediately. She heard the clink of a glass in the kitchenette, the rush of water from the tap. He returned, holding a tumbler, his movements heavy with exhaustion. He thrust the cool glass into her hands. "Drink."
Ice clinked as she obeyed, the water shocking against her raw throat, still tender from his cock earlier. He watched her, leaning against the wall, his own breathing still uneven, eyes tracking the spill of water down her chin. He looked stripped bare, the furious predator momentarily replaced by something haunted and vulnerable. The fading sunset bled through the blinds, painting stripes across the floor, catching the dust motes dancing in the air.
"Ten fucking years," he rasped, pushing off the wall, pacing a short, tight line beside the bed. His bare feet were silent on the worn rug. "Ten years carrying that fucking note. Like a goddamn grenade." He stopped, raking a hand through his dark hair, the gesture agitated. "Thinking you laughed. Thinking you showed your fucking friends." His voice cracked. "Proof I was insane."
Ava set the glass down, the condensation cold on her fingertips. The grief in his voice was a physical weight. "I didn't," she whispered, the hoarseness making it barely audible. "I kept it. Hidden. Always." She looked up at him, meeting the storm in his eyes. "I was scared, Liam. Scared of how much... how fucking much it felt like."
He stared at her, the muscle in his jaw working. The vulnerability warred with the ingrained defensiveness. He closed the distance in two strides, looming over her. "Scared?" His voice was low, dangerous. "You threw me away like trash." His hand shot out, not to strike, but to grip her chin, forcing her gaze upward. His thumb stroked the bruised curve of her lower lip, where his cock had stretched it wide only an hour ago. "This scared? Or this?" he demanded, his other hand sliding down, fingers finding the fresh, sticky wetness at the apex of her thighs, the mingled fluids of their coupling. He rubbed two fingers through it deliberately, the obscene sound loud in the quiet room. "This slick, greedy hole always hungry for my cock? That kind of scared?"
She flinched, not from pain, but from the raw, ugly truth he exposed. Her body betrayed her, clenching instinctively around nothing, a fresh pulse of heat flooding his probing fingers. "Both," she gasped, shame and desire warring. "Always both. With you."
He released her chin, but his fingers remained between her legs, circling her swollen clit with ruthless precision, making her hips jerk. "Fucking mine," he growled, the possessiveness back, thick and dark. "Body. Fear. This wet fucking cunt." He withdrew his fingers, glistening, and shoved them roughly against her lips. "Suck it clean. Taste what you do to me."
She opened her mouth, her tongue flicking out to obey, tasting salt and musk and her own arousal. He watched, eyes blazing, as she sucked his fingers clean, the intimacy somehow more violating than the balcony glass. When she released them, he dragged the wet fingertips down her down her neck, tracing the bite mark on her shoulder. "Proof," he stated flatly. "Proof you belong right here. Under me. Taking it."
He pushed her back onto the mattress, the movement abrupt. She landed with a soft gasp, the sweatshirt riding up around her hips. He stripped off his own t-shirt, the muscles of his chest and abdomen taut in the dimming light. His cock, though softening, was still thick, resting heavily against his thigh. He climbed over her, pinning her wrists above her head with one large hand, his knees forcing her legs apart. He didn't enter her. He just looked down, his gaze a physical weight. "Sleep," he commanded, the exhaustion returning, flattening his voice. "Right here. Like this."
He lowered himself beside her, still holding her wrists loosely, his body radiating heat, his breath evening out almost immediately against her hair. Trapped beneath his weight and his command, surrounded by the scent of him and their spent passion, Ava eventually succumbed to the deep, unnatural stillness, her body aching, her mind a whirlpool of regret, pain, and the terrifying, undeniable pull of him.
Dawn painted the room in shades of pale grey and cool blue, long before the city fully woke. Ava stirred, blinking against the faint light. Liam still slept, deeply, his face relaxed in sleep, stripped of its usual defensive harshness. His arm was a heavy band across her waist, his breathing slow and steady against her shoulder blade. The possessiveness remained even in unconsciousness.
The events of the night crashed over her – the kitchen fury, the balcony brutality against the glass, the raw confession and the claiming on the bed. Her body throbbed in multiple places, a map of his ownership and her surrender. But beneath the physical echoes, a fierce, protective ache bloomed in her chest. Seeing him vulnerable, hearing the depth of his decade-long pain, had shifted something irrevocably. The regret wasn't just hers; it was theirs. Shared damage.
A slow heat, different from the fear-driven lust of the night before, began to pool low in her belly. It was a claiming of her own. A need to bridge the chasm not just with words or violence, but with this. With the language they both spoke fluently, brutally, beautifully. The sweatshirt he’d given her was bunched around her middle. She eased herself carefully out from under his arm, the cool air hitting her skin. She shed the worn fabric silently, letting it fall to the floor beside the bed.
Naked, skin prickling, she turned to look at him. He lay on his back, the sheet pooled low on his hips, revealing the powerful lines of his torso, the dusting of dark hair trailing down to where his cock lay soft against his thigh. Dawn light softened the angles of his face, catching the dark sweep of his eyelashes against his cheek. Vulnerability looked foreign on him, precious.
The ache flared, hot and insistent. She wanted to wake him not with words, but with touch. With possession. With the undeniable truth written on her skin against his. Moving slowly, deliberately, she swung one leg over his hips, straddling him. The mattress dipped under her knees. His breathing hitched slightly but didn't change. Her gaze fixed on his sleeping face, her hands came to rest lightly on his chest, feeling the strong beat of his heart beneath her palms. Warm. Alive. Hers.
She leaned down, her hair falling forward to curtain their faces. Her lips brushed his, a whisper of contact. Then again, firmer. He stirred, a low murmur escaping him, his brow furrowing slightly. His eyes remained closed, lost in sleep’s depths. Her hand drifted lower, skating over the hard planes of his abdomen, the trail of hair, until her fingers closed around the thick root of his cock. It was warm, heavy, pliant in her grasp. She began to stroke him slowly, firmly, feeling the life pulse within the soft flesh, coaxing it towards hardness.
Liam groaned, a deep, sleepy sound. His hips lifted slightly, pushing into her touch. "Ava?" His voice was thick, blurred by sleep. His eyes fluttered open, unfocused, blinking against the dim light. Confusion warred with the dawning awareness of her weight on him, her hand on his cock. "What…?"
She didn’t answer with words. Keeping her eyes locked on his sleep-clouded gaze, she shifted her hips, positioning herself. Using her hand to guide him, she lowered herself slowly, deliberately, onto his thickening length. The blunt, swollen head pressed against her slick entrance, still tender from the night’s earlier use. A sharp breath hissed through her teeth as she pushed down, taking him inside inch by slow, stretching inch. He was waking rapidly now, hardening fully within her clutch, the sensation dragging a ragged groan from his chest as her tight, wet heat enveloped him.
"Oh, fuck," he rasped, his hands flying to her hips, fingers digging in instinctively. His eyes were wide now, fully awake, burning with a mix of surprise and the immediate, fierce ignition of lust. "Christ... Ava..." His cock was fully erect now, stretching her deliciously as she sank all the way down, seating herself fully on him, his pelvis grinding against her clit. She gasped, throwing her head back slightly, the sheer, intimate fullness stealing her breath. She began to move. Slowly at first, a deep, grinding roll of her hips, lifting herself almost off him before sinking back down, taking him deep, feeling every ridge, every pulse. Her nails scraped lightly over his chest, finding his nipples, pinching them hard, drawing a sharp hiss from his lips. "Ride me," he growled, his voice rough with sleep and desire. "Fucking ride this cock, baby. Take what you want." His hands gripped her hips harder, guiding her rhythm, urging her faster. She obeyed, rising higher, slamming down harder, the wet slap of skin meeting skin filling the quiet room. His head fell back against the pillow, a guttural groan tearing from his throat as she impaled herself on him repeatedly, her cunt gripping him like a fist. "Yeah... fuck... just like that," he managed, his hips bucking up to meet her downward thrusts. "Fucking own it. Milk my dick dry." She leaned forward, bracing her hands on his chest, her breasts swaying with the force of her movements. Sweat slicked her skin, her breath coming in sharp gasps. She locked eyes with him, her gaze fierce, burning. "Mine," she breathed, the word a ragged whisper lost in the sound of building friction. "This cock... this heart..." She slammed down, hard, grinding against him. "...mine." Liam’s eyes darkened, a feral intensity flaring in their depths. His hands slid up from her hips, over her ribs, capturing her breasts roughly. He squeezed, thumbs rubbing hard over her stiff nipples, the sharp pleasure-pain making her cry out. "Yours," he ground out, thrusting up powerfully into her downward plunge, hitting her deepest spot. "Fucking prove it. Make me come. Make me scream your name." His demand spurred her on. Her movements became frantic, wild, driving herself onto his cock with abandon, seeking her own peak, determined to shatter him beneath her. The bedframe creaked in protest. Sweat dripped from her chin onto his chest. Her inner muscles clamped down rhythmically, fluttering around his thick length. "Liam!" she screamed, the orgasm tearing through her, violent and all-consuming, her body convulsing, clenching him impossibly tight. "FUCK! AVA!" he roared, his back arching clear off the mattress as he erupted. Hot jets of cum pulsed deep inside her clenching cunt, wave after wave, flooding her as his hips jerked erratically beneath her. She collapsed forward onto his heaving chest, both of them gasping, slick, utterly spent, the only sound their ragged breathing and the distant hum of the waking city. His arms came around her, holding her tightly against him, his face buried in her sweat-damp hair. Outside, the first rays of true sunlight pierced the horizon, casting long, golden fingers across the tangled sheets and their entwined bodies.