Phei's shock lasted exactly half a second. Then something older, hungrier, and infinitely darker woke up inside him.

He kissed her back like he'd been starving for it—fierce and messy and human, nothing polished about it.

Their mouths crashed together hard enough that her lower lip caught against his tooth for a second, a sharp little sting that made her gasp into him. He didn't pull away; instead he softened just enough to soothe the spot with his tongue, then took her mouth again deeper, hungrier, like he couldn't decide whether to hurt her or heal her and settled for both.

His tongue slid against hers—hot, slick, a little desperate—pushing in, retreating, chasing. She gave it back just as messy, licking into his mouth, tasting the faint bite of a sweet beverage still on him, moaning softly when he sucked on her tongue like he wanted to keep it.

Her lips felt swollen already, tender and pulsing, but she pressed closer anyway, needing more.

Teeth grazed, breaths mingled in short, ragged bursts between kisses; every time they broke apart for air it was only half a second before one of them dove back in.

His stubble scraped her chin, her cheek, rough and real, and she felt the small tremor in his hand where it cupped her jaw—like even he wasn't completely in control.

It wasn't perfect. It was wet, noses bumping once before they found the angle again.

But it was them—raw, breathless, alive—two people who'd waited too long and couldn't be careful anymore.

His one hand raked up her spine, fingers splaying wide and hot between her shoulder blades, yanking her flush against him until her soft tits crushed hard to his chest and the thick, rigid line of his cock ground shamelessly against the damp heat between her thighs—rock-hard, pulsing, dragging over her soaked panties with every shift of his hips so she could feel exactly how ferociously he wanted to bury himself inside her.

The other hand clamped the back of her neck, thumb stroking rough along her jaw before forcing her head back, tilting her exactly where he wanted so he could plunder deeper.

He owned the kiss now—slowed her frantic, sloppy desperation into something deliberate and devastating, his tongue thrusting in long, lewd strokes that mimicked the brutal fucking he promised, licking deep into her mouth until saliva spilled from the corners of her lips and she moaned like a whore.

Sierra whimpered into him—raw, broken, nothing like the hell queen who'd ruled with a sneer—high, needy sounds that vibrated against his tongue as her nails clawed at his shirt, ripping at the fabric, scraping over his chest hard enough to leave red trails through the cotton.

He tore his mouth away just enough for her to feel the cold loss, lips brushing hers, breath hot and ragged. "You summoned me here to have me, didn't you?"

A shaky, wet exhale against his mouth, her voice trembling. "I—I don't know anymore…"

"Wrong answer."

He kissed her back in, harder, teeth sinking into her plump lower lip until she gasped in sharp pain—then soothing the sting with slow, filthy licks of his tongue, biting again just to taste her helpless cry.

Blood tinged the kiss, metallic and sweet, and she melted—actually fucking melted—knees buckling, body going liquid as a desperate whine tore from her throat.

His arm locked tighter around her waist, fingers splaying wide and pressing hard against the soft dip just above her hips.

Through the thin fabric of her dress he could feel the warmth of her skin, the smooth, yielding curve where her body narrowed before flaring out again.

Every time he pulled her closer the material bunched slightly under his grip, letting him feel the heat radiating from her lower back, the subtle flex of muscle as she tried to stay upright on trembling legs.

He crushed her against him—close enough that the heat of her belly pressed into his, the gentle give of her flesh under his palm making his fingers flex involuntarily, digging in just a little. The shirt was silky but not thick; he could trace the outline of her ribs when she inhaled sharply, feel the rapid rise and fall of her breathing right under his forearm.

He walked her backward without breaking the kiss—one hard step, two—his hold on her waist never loosening, guiding her with steady pressure.

Each step made her body shift against his palm: the slight roll of her hips, the way her waist twisted a fraction as she tried to keep balance, the warm, living give of her skin sliding under the fabric.

When her back finally hit the wall beside the old couch with a solid thud, the impact jolted through her and vibrated into his hand.

"Ahh, Phei~"

A breathless moan tore from her lungs, muffled against his mouth, and he felt her waist arch under his grip—muscles tightening, then melting again as she sagged slightly, letting him pin her there between the cool plaster and the furnace of his body.

Pinned there, trapped between cold plaster and his scorching dragon that wanted her, she could only cling her clothed pussy to it harder, thighs parting instinctively around his hips, grinding her soaked cunt against the iron ridge of his dragon as he devoured her like he'd never stop.

"Mhhm, ahh~"

The impact drew a soft gasp from her, one he swallowed immediately—his hips pinning hers to the wall, the thick length of his cock pressing insistently against her core, dragging a helpless roll of her hips in response.

His mouth left hers only to travel down the line of her jaw, slow, deliberate kisses that made her tilt her head back against the wall, exposing the long column of her throat.

He took the invitation.

Lips, tongue, the faintest scrape of teeth along her pulse point—then a sharp, possessive suck that bloomed into a dark mark she would wear like a brand tomorrow. Each touch of his mouth precise, calculated, designed to unravel her one nerve at a time.

Sierra's breathing fractured into quiet, involuntary moans—soft, shocked sounds she couldn't seem to hold back—wet, needy whimpers that grew louder, more desperate, as his mouth mapped every sensitive inch of her throat.

Every time his mouth found a new spot just below her ear, behind her jaw, the hollow at the base of her throat, she made that same helpless noise, like her body was betraying every secret she'd ever kept.

His hand slid from her neck down the open collar of her blouse, fingertips tracing the delicate skin just above the lace edge of her bra—never dipping lower, just teasing the boundary—until he finally dragged one thumb across her hardened nipple through the lace, pinching just hard enough to make her cry out into the dark.

Her back arched, pressing into the touch, chasing more—her hips grinding shamelessly against his thigh now wedged between her legs, seeking friction against the aching throb he'd ignited.

"Phei…" It came out broken, pleading—a raw beg that dripped with surrender.

He pulled back an inch, letting cool air rush between them. Her eyes were closed, lips swollen, cheeks flushed even in the darkness.

She looked wrecked already—hair disheveled, blouse askew, thighs trembling around his.

"Say it," he murmured against her cheek. "Tell me what you really dragged me in here for."

Her hands fisted tighter in his shirt. She swallowed once, twice, then the words tumbled out in a rush, breathless and trembling.

"Make love to me, Phei~" A pause, like the admission physically hurt. "Show me the kind of man you whispered about yesterday. Prove you weren't bluffing. Show me you're not spineless like Marcus."

Her eyes opened then, glassy and defiant and terrified all at once. "Because if you were… if this is all some game… you're not walking out of here today."

The threat would have been terrifying twenty-four hours ago. Now it just sounded like a promise she didn't know she'd already lost.

Phei's smile was slow, sharp, utterly without mercy. He leaned in until his lips brushed the shell of her ear.

"Oh, Sierra~" he whispered—voice a dark velvet growl that sent shivers straight to her clit. "I never bluff."

Then he kissed her again—deep, consuming, dominant in every stroke of his tongue, every shift of his hand pinning her gently but inescapably against the wall.

His palm slid up her side, thumb tracing the curve just beneath her breast, teasing, never quite giving her what her body was begging for—until he finally cupped her breast fully, kneading roughly, rolling her nipple between finger and thumb until she sobbed into his mouth.

Each time she tried to press closer, he eased back just enough to keep her chasing—denying her the hard thrust of his cock onto her pussy even as he let her feel how brutally hard, she'd made him.

She moaned into his mouth—long, trembling, utterly surrendered sounds that echoed softly in the dark—obscene, wet pleas that told him she was already soaked in mind like she was in her pussy, already aching to be filled.

He drank them down like they belonged to him.

Because now they did.

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