Chapter 4: Claiming Deeper
The steady thump of Kade’s heart was a metronome under her ear, marking the quiet. Nia traced the intricate lines of a tattoo over his pectoral, her fingertip following a pattern she’d once known by heart. The fullness inside her was a fading, pleasant ache. The world had narrowed to this bed, this skin, this breath.
His hand, resting on the small of her back, stroked slowly up her spine and down again. Possessive. Soothing.
“You’re thinking too loud,” his voice rumbled beneath her cheek.
“Can’t help it.”
“About what?”
She propped her chin on his chest, looking up at him. The streetlamp glow gilded the sweat on his skin. “That I should be freaking out. That this is… a lot.”
His thumb brushed the curve of her hip. “But you’re not.”
“No.” She frowned, surprised at her own calm. “I’m not.”
A slow, satisfied smile touched his lips. “Good.” His hand slid lower, cupping her backside, kneading gently. “Then we’re on the same page.”
The simple, claiming touch reignited the embers that had never fully died. She felt a fresh slickness between her thighs, a tell-tale throb that echoed the pulse still beating where they were joined. His smile widened. He felt it too.
“Already, Mama?” he murmured, his voice dropping to that dark, intimate register that made her stomach flip. “Greedy little thing.”
He moved then, rolling them both with a smooth, powerful motion that left her pinned beneath him. The shift made him slide deeper inside her, and she gasped, her back arching off the mattress. He looked down at her, his eyes hungry all over again.
“My turn to look at you,” he said, his gaze devouring her face, her throat, her breasts. “All of you.”
He began to move, a slow, deep withdrawal and a relentless, filling push. It was different from before—less about discovery, more about ownership. Each thrust was a statement. Her hands flew to his biceps, holding on as the pleasure built, deeper and hotter this time.
“That’s it,” he grunted, watching her face contort. “Take it. All of it’s yours.”
She was close again, embarrassingly fast, her heels digging into the mattress. “Kade, I’m—”
“Not yet.” He stilled, buried deep, the strain evident in the corded muscles of his neck. “We’re not done.”
Before she could protest, he pulled out of her completely. The sudden emptiness was a shock. He flipped her onto her stomach with a firm hand on her hip. The plush comforter was soft against her flushed cheek. He hooked an arm around her waist, lifting her onto her knees.
“Up,” he commanded, his voice rough. “Let me see you.”
She obeyed, pushing up onto her hands and knees. The position was vulnerable, exposing. She felt the cool air on her damp skin, then the heat of his gaze. His hands smoothed over the curves of her backside, spreading her, and she whimpered into the sheets.
“So damn pretty,” he breathed, his voice thick with awe. He leaned over her, his chest pressing against her back, his mouth finding the sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulder. He bit down, not hard enough to break skin, but enough to brand. She cried out, the sharp sting melting into a wave of pure lust.
He positioned himself, the blunt head of him nudging at her entrance. “Gonna fill you up again, Mama,” he growled, the promise vibrating against her skin.
He pushed in, one slow, inexorable inch at a time. From this angle, he went deeper, hitting a place that made her see white. Her arms buckled, and she fell onto her forearms, a broken moan tearing from her throat.
“Just like this,” he panted, setting a punishing, perfect rhythm. One hand gripped her hip, the other snaked around her front, his fingers finding her clit with unerring accuracy. “Take every inch. Just like you were made for me.”
The dual assault was overwhelming. The deep, full thrusts and the clever, circling pressure of his fingers pushed her higher, faster. Dirty talk spilled from him, a filthy, worshipful litany in her ear.
“Feel how deep I am? That’s all me, baby. No one else. Ever.”
“This sweet, tight pussy is mine. Say it.”
“Yours,” she sobbed, mindless, pushing back against him, meeting every drive.
“Damn right. Gonna come inside you. Mark you from the inside out. You want that?”
“Yes! Please, yes—”
Her climax shattered her, a violent, soul-deep convulsion that ripped through her core and radiated out to her fingertips. She screamed into the comforter, her body clenching around him in rhythmic pulses.
It triggered his own release. With a final, brutal thrust, he buried himself to the hilt, his roar muffled against her shoulder as he emptied into her, hot and endless. His big body shuddered, his grip on her iron-tight as he rode out his own pleasure, pumping into her until he was spent.
They collapsed together, a heap of tangled limbs and sweat-slicked skin. He rolled them to their sides, pulling her back against his chest, staying inside her. His arms locked around her, his face buried in her hair. Their ragged breaths were the only sound in the room.
Minutes passed. The city lights blinked outside the window.
His hand, splayed on her stomach, idly stroked the softness there. He nuzzled her ear. “Okay?”
She could only nod, utterly wrecked and profoundly peaceful.
“Good.” He kissed her shoulder. “Don’t move. I like you right here.”
She had no intention of moving. The heavy, satisfied weight of him inside and around her was its own kind of anchor. The teddy bear on the nightstand seemed to watch them with its glassy eyes, a silent witness to the end of her old life.
His breathing evened out, deepening toward sleep. Just as she began to drift herself, his voice, slurry with exhaustion, broke the quiet.
“Love you, Mama,” he murmured, the words slipping out as naturally as breathing. “Never stopped.”
Then he was asleep, his body going heavy against her back.
Nia lay awake in the warm, tangled dark, her heart beating a frantic, joyous rhythm against his palm. The words hung in the air, solid and real as the man wrapped around her. She didn’t say them back. Not yet. But for the first time in six years, she let herself feel them, a secret bloom of heat in the center of her chest, right next to where he’d settled himself, as if he’d never left.