Chapter 45

Sienna's legs were barely holding her up.

She stumbled slightly as she tried to walk down the hall, her fingers dragging along the wall for balance. Her dress clung to her skin, and every inch of her body still tingled from what he had just done to her. Her breath was still shaky. Her thighs still slick. All she wanted was to make it to the bed, collapse, and maybe process what had just wrecked her.

But Cassian wasn't done.

She didn't even make it halfway across the room before he caught her from behind—hands gripping her waist, spinning her around, and then pushing her down, firmly but gently, over the back of the sofa.

Her chest pressed against the headrest. Her knees barely held steady.

"Cassian," she gasped. "We need to—can we go to bed—"

He didn't answer.

Instead, he pushed the back of her dress up again, exposing her thighs, her hips, the curve of her ass. She felt the air hit her still-sensitive skin, felt him behind her—hard again, impossibly hard—and already stroking himself.

He groaned low, thick with hunger. "You're dripping," he muttered. "Fucking soaked for me."

He slid the head of his cock against her folds, smearing her wetness along his length. Over and over. Teasing. Worshiping. Losing himself.

Sienna whimpered, arching her back. "Cassian—"

And then he thrust back inside her.

She cried out, her hands gripping the back of the sofa as he filled her again.

He was loud this time—groaning deep, like the feel of her around him was too much to hold in. His hips snapped forward, desperate and hungry, his hands gripping her hips, holding her in place.

She moaned with every stroke, each thrust pulling another breathless sound from her lips.

"God," she panted. "I can't—Cassian—"

"You can," he growled, slamming into her. "You will. You're taking me so fucking well."

She clenched around him, already close again, already so raw from the first time. The slap of skin, the sound of his breath, the slick heat of him moving inside her—it was too much, too fast, too perfect.

She shattered again.

This time with a scream, her body spasming, her nails dragging across the fabric of the sofa.

But he didn't come.

He slowed his movements, panting above her.

"I usually last longer after the first," he muttered, pulling out with a groan.

Sienna barely had time to catch her breath before he was lifting her again—wrapping his arms around her waist and dragging her down with him onto the floor, onto the rug.

"Cassian—" she tried, breathless, wrecked.

But he was already positioning her again, pulling her onto his lap, guiding her hips.

"I'm not done with you," he said, voice hoarse and dangerous and full of need.

And then he was inside her again.

Relentless.

Sienna braced her hands on his shoulders, trying to move with him even though her body felt like liquid. The heat between them only thickened, slick and molten, and she could hardly catch her breath.

"It's too hot," she murmured, voice ragged. She sat back slightly, pulling her arms through the sleeves of her dress and tugging it down until it pooled around her waist.

Cassian groaned, watching her bare skin glow in the soft light.

"Good," he rasped, eyes wild. "Don't stop. Ride me, Sienna."

She moaned, dragging her hips forward, faster, harder, each grind sending shockwaves through her spine. He matched her pace with rising urgency, his grip bruising on her hips, guiding her.

"You're perfect," he gritted. "So fucking perfect. Taking me so deep—shit."

Sienna threw her head back, fingers clawing down his chest. She could feel the tension building inside him, the way his hands began to tremble, the way his breath turned to gasps.

She clenched around him, desperate, dizzy.

"Come for me," she whispered. "I want to feel it."

Cassian's head snapped back as he thrust upward into her one final time, deep and raw, a broken groan ripping from his throat.

He came hard—fingers digging into her waist, mouth against her collarbone, their bodies shaking together on the floor, nothing left between them but sweat, breath, and the fire they couldn't put out.

But she didn't stop.

Still straddling him, still pulsing from the aftershock of his release, she rocked her hips again—slow at first, just enough to make his breath catch.

"Sienna—" he rasped, voice hoarse.

"I'm not done either," she whispered, her voice wrecked but steady.

She began to move again, faster, dragging herself along his still-throbbing length. He groaned, head falling back against the floor, gripping her thighs as she rode him harder.

Each thrust sent sparks through her spine, her body tightening again around him, the friction hot and devastating.

Her moans built quickly, louder, needier, until she was crying out again, chanting his name between ragged breaths. Sweat clung to her skin, her hair sticking to her temples, and still she moved, chasing the high that was already blooming deep in her core.

He looked up at her like she was made of stars, barely able to breathe.

"That's it, baby," he groaned.

And she did.

She came again with a scream—shaking, falling forward, her arms collapsing around his shoulders, her entire body trembling from the force of it.

Only then did she let herself go still, breath catching, cheek pressed to his neck, both of them wrecked all over again.

Cassian's hand gently cupped the back of her head, his voice rough and low against her skin. "So… does this mean we're in a relationship now?"

Sienna gave a breathless laugh, lips brushing his collarbone. "Yes," she murmured, her hips shifting again with a lazy, teasing grind. "But you're going to have to keep up."

He groaned, half in exhaustion, half in pure awe. "God, I'm in so much trouble."