Page 118 of Silk and Sirens

I did, unable to look away from how devastatingly beautiful he was. A man barely leashing the beast inside him, every muscle in his body straining as he held back from completely ruining me.

The pleasure was overwhelming, the pain sharp and intense.

And I fucking revelled in it.

The way he fucked me—deep, relentless, and utterly consuming—kept me anchored in the moment. Making me feel everything.

“One more,” he demanded, unyielding. “You can do it, I know you can.” His fingers found my swollen clit, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger with just the right pressure, and I couldn’t stop it. I shattered. The orgasm tearing through me with devastating force, ripping a broken sob from my throat as my entire body convulsed.

Caden groaned deep in his chest, burying himself to the hilt as he finally followed me over the edge.

Chapter 48

Aeris

I could barely stand. My legs still shook as I leaned against the wall in the shower, my forehead pressed to the cold tile, trying and failing to ground myself.

Breathe.

I didn’t just have the best sex of my life with Caden-fucking-Ackworth.

It must be the hormones. They’d clearly muddled my brain. That was the only explanation that made sense. Could someone actually get brain damage from too many orgasms? I never thought I’d be the one testing that theory, but there I was, dangerously close to forgetting every reason this was a terrible idea. Forgetting how one ruthless, possessive man had just unravelled me so completely that I somehow felt … lighter.

My skin was still too sensitive, the warmth of the water making me tremble beneath the stream. I held my breath, dropping my head back and allowing the spray to coat my face so I could just think of … nothing.

I forced everything away: Selene, Vivienne, Mira, and the terrifying way Caden made me feel safe. I focused only on the water stealing my breath, the steady rhythm of my heartbeat, and the way my lungs began to burn.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

I’d wanted out. I’d wanted a life without lies, without blood, and the constant weight of death and deceit pressing down on my chest. A quiet existence where I didn’t have to sell pieces of myself to survive. Where I could just be an aunt making ridiculous birthday cakes, reading stories about sea monsters, and laughing without having to plan every move.

I’d wanted to sing in small, smoky clubs where no one knew my real name. To move to the coast, wake up to the sound of waves, and walk barefoot along the shore every morning, letting the cold sea wash over my feet.

I’d wanted freedom, a life outside of this world.

But Caden would keep me in it.

I opened my eyes to find him leaning against the sink, simply watching me, devoid of his mask. He’d pulled on his jeans, leaving them unfastened as my gaze was drawn to the V between his hips.

“You don’t have any aftercare products,” he said, and I swallowed against the intensity of his attention.

Stepping back so my face was out of the shower, I gestured to the cupboard behind him. “Beneath the sink.”

He raised a single brow then turned. I studied the silver scars, faint lines that were barely slivers against his skin. You couldn’t really see them unless you were really looking, your eyes automatically drawn to the tattoos or the large mark on his shoulder. The scar there was circular, the skin raised and three times the size of the one on his front. His tattoo curled around it, but unlike the smaller side, it didn’t try to blend into those vicious waves.

Caden turned back, and our eyes collided.

Shit.

Fucking Caden again had been a mistake. Not only because it was complicating things, but because we’d done it here of all places, at Atlantis where eyes were always on me, with Renley, and apparently Albus reporting every little thing back to Selene.

I didn’t want to use sex as a weapon, but I couldn’t seem to stop.

The spray turned off, and I turned to frown at Caden, his arm wet as he pulled it back. He didn’t say anything as I stepped out, the water dripping off my skin before he gently dried me with a towel.

“A shower room is convenient,” he commented, carefully wringing out the water from my hair before reaching for a brush. I didn’t stop him as he gently began to brush the strands.

“We offer a full service at Atlantis,” I whispered in reply, feeling … not hollow, exactly. Vulnerable, maybe? Like he saw too much. More than I was willing to give.