Page 42 of Freed By Wrath

11

Valerie

His hands cup my face with a gentleness I wasn’t expecting, and then he kisses me.

It starts slow—almost painfully tender. A soft press of lips, a quiet question. He’s still giving me an out, still waiting for me to pull away. But the moment I sigh into his mouth and lean in, something inside him snaps.

The kiss deepens instantly, his grip on my face tightens, one hand sliding into my hair as he tilts my head and claims my mouth with a hunger that steals my breath. His tongue slides against mine, hot and demanding, and a low, desperate sound vibrates in his chest. The cool leather of his mask presses against my skin, a sharp contrast to the burning heat of his lips and tongue and it makes everything even more intoxicating.

I’ve never been kissed like this.

Like I’m precious. Like I’m dangerous. Like he’s been starving for me for years and is finally letting himself taste what he wants.

I moan softly into his mouth, my fingers fisting his dark grey shirt as heat floods my entire body. He kisses me like he’s trying to memorize me—deep, slow strokes of his tongue, little nips at my bottom lip, then diving back in like he can’t get enough.

I don’t know exactly when he guided me onto the edge of his desk. Or when my hands found his shoulders. Or when my thighs instinctively wrapped around his waist, holding him closer as though my body had already decided it was done letting him go.

What I do remember is the moment he shuddered against me. A tiny, involuntary tremor.

It shouldn’t have mattered. Yet it did. Because it made me feel… powerful.

How could the worst night of my life become the one that finally set me free? Just a few hours ago, I thought I’d lost everything. Now, somehow, I’d found the three people I’d spent years pretending not to miss.

I’d dreamed about them in the quiet corners of my mind, where impossible things lived. Dreams I buried beneath loyalty, guilt, and the promise of a future I thought I wanted. I convinced myself those few hours we shared had only mattered to me.

I was wrong.

They remembered it too. And now, standing here between the ruins of the life I’d built and the beginning of one I never dared hope for, I finally find the place where I belong.

He finally pulls back just enough to let us breathe, his forehead resting against mine, the mask cool and smooth between us. His voice is rough, barely above a whisper:

“Valerie… fuck,” Isaac breathes against my lips, voice wrecked.

I slide my hands up his chest, fisting his shirt, desperate to feel more of him. I don’t want words right now. I just want him.

A deep, hungry sound rumbles in his throat. He pulls back just enough to look at me, eyes dark behind the mask.

“Tell me if you want me to stop.”

“I don’t,” I whisper, almost begging. “Don’t stop.”

His hand slips under the oversized T-shirt, finding me bare and dripping. The second his fingers brush my swollen clit, I moan loudly into his mouth. He groans in response and starts circling it slowly, perfectly, like he’s been fantasizing about this exact moment for years.

I’m still so sensitive from earlier, but it only makes everything sharper. My hips roll against his hand as he pushes two thick fingers inside me, curling them against that sweet spot with devastating precision.

“Isaac—” I gasp, nails digging into his shoulders.

He leans in, lips brushing my ear, voice low and filthy.

“Do you have any idea how many times I’ve fucked my own hand thinking about this pussy?” He curls his fingers deeper, making me whimper. “Too many nights, baby girl. Too many times I came imagining you were mine… imagining you were ours.”

“Oh, my god…”

His teeth graze my earlobe, biting down softly as he pumps his fingers faster. “Every single time I felt guilty as hell. Because you didn’t belong to us. But I couldn’t stop. I kept imagining you spread open for us, taking all three of us, moaning our names while we claimed you.”

The words hit me like fire. My walls clench hard around his fingers.

“Isaac, please… I’m gonna come—”