Cassian, please.

Seraphina's POV

“Stop,” I breathed.

He moved around the counter, slow, deliberate, until I had nowhere left to go. My back hit the edge of the marble.

His body pressed into mine, solid heat against trembling skin.

“Say yes,” he murmured, mouth hovering over mine.

“Say please,” I whispered back, clinging to that last shred of ground.

His grin was wicked and soft all at once. “Please,” he said, and the word slid straight through me.

I gasped, and in the next heartbeat his hands gripped my waist, lifting me. He set me down on the cool marble counter, and the chill shocked my thighs.

My legs opened instinctively, wrapping around him as if they had a mind of their own.

His mouth crushed mine again, but not with violence - with hunger, with need. His tongue slid into my mouth, slow and deep, curling around mine, sucking softly.

He kissed me like he was tasting a secret, and every time I moaned, he groaned back, the sound vibrating into me.

“You’re so addictive Angel,” he whispered against my lips, before lowering his head.

His mouth brushed down my throat, his tongue stroking the hollow of my collarbone, then lower, until he reached the swell of my breast.

He sucked at me through the thin fabric, wetting it until it clung. I gasped, arching, and his hand slipped under my blouse, cupping me bare.

His thumb brushed across my nipple, and I cried out, the sound swallowed by his mouth.

“Fuck, Seraphina,” he groaned, his voice breaking. “So soft. So sweet. Moan for me.”

“Cassian - ahh,” I whimpered, my fingers clutching his hair.

He pulled my nipple between his teeth gently, then soothed it with his tongue. My back bowed, pressing me into his mouth, and he rewarded me with a low, rough moan that made heat shoot straight between my thighs.

His hand slid down, teasing, stroking over the curve of my ass through my shorts. He squeezed, then gave me a slow, deliberate spank.

The sound resounded in the quiet kitchen, and I gasped, clapping a hand over my mouth.

“Don’t hide,” he whispered, kissing lower, trailing wet heat across my stomach. “I want to hear you.”

“Cassian, please,” I breathed against his shoulder.

“Please what?” His lips brushed the inside of my thigh, warm and damp. “Say it.”

“Please touch me. Please-” My voice broke into a moan as his fingers found me through the fabric, pressing against the soaked spot.

He groaned, rubbing slow circles that made me writhe on the counter. “You’re dripping for me. Gods, angel, you don’t even know how perfect this is.”

“Don’t stop,” I begged.

He pushed the fabric aside, exposing me to the cool air. His mouth lowered, tongue sliding slowly over me. My head fell back, a cry spilling free.

“Sweet,” he groaned against my heat, sucking softly before licking again, slower, deeper.

His fingers joined, one sliding inside, curling until I clutched at the marble edge, moaning louder than I meant to.

“Shh,” he whispered, pressing another kiss to my thigh. “We don’t want him to hear. But goodness, I want to hear you scream for me.”

He added another finger, then another, stretching me gently. I gasped, shivering, as his tongue circled my clit in wet, languid strokes.

“Cassian - oh fuck-” I sobbed, my thighs trembling.

“That’s it,” he whispered, his voice rough, reverent and filthy all at once. “Good girl. Such a good slut for me.”

The words made me moan louder, guilt and heat colliding until I was trembling on the counter.

His mouth sucked harder, his fingers thrusting deeper, the wet sound filling the kitchen.

I cried out his name, the sound breaking free despite everything, as pleasure ripped through me, leaving me clinging to him, soaked and undone.

He lifted his head, his mouth wet with me, eyes dark with hunger. “You’re ready for me,” he whispered. He guided my trembling hand to him again, pressing me around his thick length. “Feel me. Feel what’s yours.”

I gasped at the size, at the heat in my palm. “Cassian-”

“Say you want me inside you.” His voice was rough, desperate.

“I want you,” I whispered. “Please.”

That was all he needed. He pushed forward, slow, the head of his cock stretching me open.

The ache made me whimper, but his mouth was on mine instantly, kissing me through it, his tongue stroking, soothing.

“Breathe, angel,” he whispered. “I’ve got you. You’re mine.”

He slid deeper, inch by inch, until he filled me completely. My nails dug into his shoulders as my back arched, a loud moan breaking free.

“Fuck,” he groaned, forehead pressed to mine. “So tight. So wet. Fuck, you’re perfect.”

“Cassian - ahhh-” I sobbed, wrapping my legs tighter around him.

He rocked into me, slow, deliberate thrusts that made the counter creak beneath us.

His hand slid over my ass, squeezing, spanking softly before pulling me closer.

“You feel so good,” he whispered against my mouth. “You’re mine, Seraphina. Say it.”

“I’m yours,” I gasped, tears stinging my eyes. “Even if I shouldn’t be - I’m yours.”

He groaned, his pace deepening, his control broke with me. He thrust deep, moaning my name as he spilled inside me, his voice raw with both hunger and reverence.

When it was over, he stayed pressed to me on the cold marble counter, his body covering mine, his lips brushing my hair.

His hand stroked my spine, trembling, holding me as though I were the only thing keeping him whole.

“You’re mine, Seraphina,” he whispered, a vow against my mouth. “Every inch of you. Even here, even now. Mine.”

And though guilt clawed at me, though danger pulsed above us in the rooms where my husband slept, I couldn’t let go. Not of him. Not of this.