Tiago
What's in my head?
I tread as slowly as I can, the distance between myself and Yannik's house growing with each step. The sun is sinking, its last rays blinding me as I move down the empty street.
Her.
She's in my head and won't let go. She invades my thoughts, possesses every inch of my body. Makes everything about her.
If we're the same, two sides of the same coin, then why is she always making these crazy decisions?
I take a deep breath, but it does nothing to stop the panic creeping back into my mind. She always acts like she owns the worldâand then reality slaps her. I can't stop thinking about what could've happened to her back there.
For the first time in my life, I'm actually grateful that he is my father.
My heart is still pounding from the way she felt pressed against me, from the way I saw nothing but that freak trying to put his hands on her.
Fuck him.
I stop, sucking in a breath and closing my eyes, trying to clear my thoughts as my body turns back, legs start moving again.
I need to get inside my own head to understand what's in hers.
Bullshit.
Because all I ever think about is her, and it's driving me insane.
I hesitate. I shouldn't go back. But then I see her house, just a block away. My body moves before my mind catches up, taking me back toward her.
Maybe I'm falling apart. But if I am, I'll either take her down with me or learn to let her go.
Once I reach her house, I glance around. The street is quiet at this hour, everyone inside, preparing for dinner. I catch a glimpse of Bardot's silhouette behind the curtain in the kitchen.
Keeping to the shadows, I move toward the large tree near the garage, eyes searching for a way to get to Yannik unseen. I spot a slightly open window above the garage roof and scan my surroundings one last time.
The branches look sturdy enough to hold me.
In seconds, I'm on the garage roof, climbing up the thick branches of the tree. The window slides open so easily it feels natural, like sneaking into her room was always meant to happenâbut then...
I see her.
She closes her door, her eyes locking onto mine as I swing my legs over the windowsill, landing near her bed.
She has that look again. Like she knows me better than I know myself. Like she knew I'd come even before it crossed my mind. As if it was only a matter of time before I ended up here.
I stand tall, my heart slamming against my ribs so hard I wonder if she can hear it. Right now, staring into her eyes, I start to think I shouldn't have come.
But it doesn't matter. I'm here. She's in front of me.
And I need answers only she can give me.
Because I'm sick of her games. I'm sick of her recklessness, her constant push-and-pull.
Yannik's lips curl, and I feel it in my chest. The way she tilts her chin up at meâlike she's already won. Like she always wins.
She's a ruler, but I can't shake the feeling that she's fragile, made of glass. Up close, she has to look up to meet my gaze. Her face is small, her skin impossibly soft, kissed with freckles.
But Yannik's eyes aren't fragile. They are made of steel. They are what reveal her predatory essence, her twisted mind.
A mind I want to unravel.
"I want you."
My voice is husky, thick with something I can't control. I clench my fists, trying to shake off the feeling that she's about to mock me.
To tease me, only to leave me fighting my own demons after.
I hate that she does it. But I hate myself more.
Because I need to stay away from her. But all I doâall my mind doesâis fly back to her like a moth to a flame.
As if she's made of fire, and I'm fireproof.
"And if it's true that we're the sameâ" I say, as I hear Yannik slowly breathe in, her eyes locked on mine. "Then you feel it too."
Her tongue glides slowly across her lips. I wait, my hands braced at my sides, fighting the urge to reach for her.
"Ask, Santiago."
Her voice is a husky whisper, her eyes scanning my face, searching for a crack in the armor I barely have left.
I want to be closer. I want to touch her skin, so smooth and soft. I want to bury my face in the curve of her neck and breathe her in.
I want to feel her. To have her. To claim her.
"Let me, pleaseâ" I don't ask. I beg. My voice is so wrecked, so raw, I'm on the verge of whimpering. "Let me touch you."
My teeth clench so hard my jaw aches as I suck in a breath, looking awayâwaiting for Yannik to push me aside again.
My chest is tight. My skin burns. I shouldn't be here, but I can't stay away. I don't even know what I'm asking for anymoreâmy mind is a mess, tangled and unsalvageable.
The only thing I know is that I can't keep walking away every time she shuts me out.
It's up to Yannik now. She decides. She always does.
To give in or to walk away.
Her fingers slide to the door handle. Thenâ
A click.
Loud. Deafening. The lock echoes in my head, vibrating down my spine. My eyes snap to hers, and in the shadow I cast over her, I see them darken.
"Good boy."
Her voice brushes against me, edged with amusement, her touch searing through my shirt.
The way her praise sends a shudder through meâthe way it makes me want to fall to my knees just to hear her say it againâterrifies me.
"Go on."
And I do.
I dive into her, into the darkness of her watersâno way back, no chance of being saved.
The moment my hands find her body, everything slows.
My pulse. My breath. My mind.
I can't think. Can't breathe.
I can only worship.
My fingers skim her waist before gripping her hips, hard enough to pull a sigh from her lips. I lean in, my mouth trailing her neck, her collarbone, her shoulders.
Her taste coats my tongue. Her venom seeps into my bloodstream. And I still want more, because this isn't just a touch. It's everything I've been fighting, everything I've denied myself, breaking loose all at once.
I lift her, her legs wrapping around me as I carry her to the bed, step by step. Her fingers tangle in my hair, and my lips never leave her throat.
She's so soft. So impossibly soft.
I almost worry I might crush her as I lower her onto the bed.
All I hear is the shaky rhythm of her breath as I kiss down her collarbone. My fingers glide over the edge of her top down to the smooth skin of her stomach, grazing the jewelry in her navel.
Thenâ
Her hands close around my wrists.
"Not so fast, Big Boy."
I've dreamed of thisâof having her under me, her cheeks flushed with arousal, pupils blown wide, lips parted and eagerly waiting for mine.
But I forgot about thisâthe wicked curve of her smile. The smirk that reminds me exactly who's in control.
Who holds all the power.
Her push is gentle but firm, flipping the balance between us as she forces me back.
I bite my lip against the urge to groan when her hands press into my shoulders, her legs straddling me.
And when she settles over me, heat pressing against heat, her fingers trailing over my chestâburning through the fabricâI forget how to breathe.
"Let me hear you beg again."
Her fingers tease lower, playing with the edge of my pants, her gaze locked onto meâsharp, predatory.
She's playing with me. And I'm letting her.
I'd let her do anything.
Because I would love to fall apart, but she won't let me unless it's her who breaks me.
"God, Yannik, I can'tâ" My voice shakes as she tugs at the drawstrings of my pants. "Please..."
I grit my teeth as her attention shift to my shirt. Slowly, she lifts the hem, and thenâfinallyâher touch grazes my bare skin.
My whole body is fire.
Her hands are so soft. Her movements hold so much control, but they're slow, deliberate.
"I can't hear you," she purrs, her fingers teasing the barbells in my nipples. A sharp bolt of pleasure shoots through me, heat flooding every inch of my body.
"Fuck," I hiss, my hands locking onto her hips as her breath warms my face.
Her touch slides lower, back to the waistband of my pants, teasing the strip of my boxers.
I tilt my head back, eyes shut tight, desperate to clear my mind.
But it's imposible. She's all I can think about.
So I begânot because I want to.
Because I need to.
"Let me touch you," I choke out, voice breaking. "Please, Yannikâ"
I barely swallow the moan threatening to escape as her lips burn my throat. Her hips roll slowly against mine, my cock throbbing, aching for her touch.
"That's right," she murmurs, her breath hot against my neck. She shifts back just enough to slip her hand between us, gliding over my length through the fabric.
She makes me wait. Makes me ache. Keeps my hands locked away from her body while hers move with agonizing patience, teasing me, driving me to the edge.
I feel it in my bonesâevery second of torment, every deliberate delayâuntil all my self-control shatters.
She releases my wrists. I don't even realize I'm staring at her with silent desperation until she gives a slow nodâand I move.
Like a predator on its prey.
I breathe her in, sink into the madness Yannik wraps me in, live for every second she lets me have her. My hands rush to her body, greedy for the softness, the heat. She consumes every inch of my mind, claiming the last corners she hadn't already conquered.
Her fingers grip the waistband of my pants, dragging them lower in a silent command. My body obeys on instinct. I pull her closer the second her hand wraps around me, her touch sending a jolt through every nerve.
"God..."
I squeeze my eyes shut, my breath shuddering, but I catch the smirk tugging at her lips. She lets me hold her closerâso close I feel the press of her body against mine, the way she enjoys unraveling me.
Her gaze drops between us. I follow it, watching as she strokes me again, slow, torturous. My teeth sink into my lip at the sight of her hands on meâlike they were made for this. Sculpted just for me.
I want to see her face. To watch her, to know what she looks like in this moment, so wrapped up in what she's doing to me. The feel of her mouth against my neck burns away every thought.
Her lips, her tongue, the firm metal of the jewelry in her tongueâit's too much, all at once. A sharp gasp rips from me, and I don't care how pathetic I sound bringing myself to her.
Yannik slides off my lap, and my body betrays me with a soft whimperâbarely audible, but enough to send heat rushing to my face.
"What?" she taunts, her hands on my knees as she leans in, studying me like she's already won. "Want me to make you come?"
I nod, swallowing hard.
Yannik tilts her head, not satisfied. "I want you to say it."
I know her game. She's tearing me apart piece by pieceâand she's loving every second of my downfall.
"Don't do that to meâ" My words falter as she sinks to her knees, fingers toying with the edge of my pants. I barely hesitate before lifting my hips, letting her slide them down, letting her take everything as long as I can have her.
"Don't you want me to make you feel good?"
Her voice is liquid sin, and I can't resist it.
Not when she's kneeling between my legs. Not when she's looking at my cock like she's sizing me up, deciding if I'll fit.
Shit.
Anticipation alone wrecks me.
"I do," I rasp.
"Then beg."
Her eyes gleam, dark with amusement, with challenge. Not even when she sticks her tongue out, dragging it all over the length in one slow, devastating motion, does she look away.
A weak groan slips from my lipsâproof that she's winning.
"Pleaseâ" I exhale, my gaze locked on her lips.
Full. Flushed red from the kisses she's left on my skin. Now pressing against the tip of my cock, featherlight.
Testing me. Seeing how far I'll let her go before I snap.
"I want you to suck it," I say, my voice raw.
I barely finish before she flicks her tongue, tasting me, collecting every drop of precum as the evidence of how wrecked I already am.
"Please," I whisper, "suck my dick, Yannik."
It's so wrong. But saying itâmeaning itâfeels so fucking right.
Her lips curl into a smirk right before she takes me in, and my head tilts back, my breath leaving me in a ragged, muffled moan.
Hot. Wet. Tight. Perfect.
I bite down on my knuckles, fighting to stay silent, but she sees it. Feels it. She takes me deeper, her dark eyes never breaking contact, drinking in my ruin.
Even on her knees, even with my dick in her mouth, she still holds all the power.
And I know it, because this isn't just about pleasure.
It's about control. About who owns who.
And right now?
Yannik owns me.
She tucks strands of dark ginger hair behind her ears as she sinks deeper, and a shudder wracks through my body as I feel the back of her throat.
But it's not just the blowjob that's unraveling me.
It's Yannik.
It's the way she looks at me, the way she knows exactly where to press, exactly how to pull my strings like she's holding the instructions to me.
She knows what turns me on.
She knows she turns me on.
And she's always right.
I gasp for air, my body writhing under her touch, pleasure crashing through me in waves.
My hands tremble as I reach for her hair, scattered over her shoulders, desperate to get a grip. The dark copper suits my tan so well I don't ever want to let go.
"God, Yannik..." A moan rips from my throat as her fingers tighten around my balls, her other hand stroking me in sync with the movement of her head. "I'm close now."
She doesn't stop. Doesn't even slow down.
Instead, a soft, barely audible, dripping wet moan vibrates around me, and I feel myself spiraling.
I try to pull back, to push her away before it's too late. But then she takes me deeperâso deep she almost chokesâmovements rougher, faster.
Another moan breaks free as wetness drips down my perineum, pooling beneath me, but I can't care less now.
Because I can't think straight.
Not when the pulsations at the base of my dick grow stronger. Not when I hear her moan against me, gasping for air before pushing forward again, working me harder.
"Shit, Yannik," I whimper. "Don't stop. Please, don't stopâ"
I want to throw my head back, to clench my fists, to shut my eyes and lose myself completelyâ
But I keep them on her.
I drown in the sound of her sloppy moans, in the way she looks up at me with those eyesâ
Heavy with lust. Dark with desire. Overflowing with mischief.
And her eyes are all I live for.
And they are what I want to die for.
I bite down on my lip, but I can't keep my mouth shut, a deep, guttural moan ripping through me as my body writhes, my spine arching under the weight of my orgasm. The shockwaves crash over me, unrelenting.
I feel her throat constrict as she swallows.
Every last drop.
She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, giggling as I collapse onto the mattress, drained and breathless.
When I finally look at her, her eyes are already on me as she collapses onto the mattress just next to me.
Studying me.
Like I'm the only thing in the world worth looking at.
And I want to tell her everything that's flooding my mind. All the things I need her to know.
But she already knows.
She always does.
"Cormac's throwing a party. Wanna come?"
Her voice is soft, but the mischievous curve of her lips is already creeping back.
I blink, barely able to process her words, my body still humming from her touch.
"Cormac?" My brows pull together. "Is he okay with me showing up? You know..." I hesitate, my body numb as I make an attempt to point at her and then at me, my hands shaking. "You, me... Him?"
I hate myself for bringing it up. For reminding both of us of the world outside this pink room.
Of her and Cormac.
Shit, I don't want to talk about Cormac at all, less now that I've just touched heaven itself.
But here I am.
Yannik just shrugs. "You're on his team, Big Boy." She gets up, scanning the bed for my shirtâthe one she threw aside like an afterthought. "Anyway, you have until Friday. Tell TJ if you're going. He'll pick you up."
She hands me my shirt, and I know exactly what it means.
Time's up.
I should stay. I want to stay.
I want to keep talkingâjust not about Cormac. Not about any other guy who wants her. I want to talk about her, to know her better, to crawl into her head like she does with me.
Instead, I pull my pants back on, swallowing the bitter taste rising in my throat.
Because I feel it now. That ugly, nagging feeling I wasn't expecting.
I feel like a dirty little secret.
Although I thought this would make it easier. That if I got what I craved, if I had her just once, I'd be able to keep my distance. Keep things simple. Stick to the deal between us.
But as I climb out her window, the feeling in my gut only worsens.
Because there's one thought I can't shake. One truth I can't ignore.
I don't want to be her secret.