After The Divorce, He Begged Me Back

Chapter 8: Sensation

Sera's POV

I'd gone to meet him after my body felt hot, I hated him, but i couldn't ignore what my body was feeling...

As tried my best to control my hate and lust for him, staring at him.

Cassian’s chest rose and fell beneath me, the thunder of his heartbeat slowing against my cheek. His fingers were still tangled loosely in my hair, stroking absently, like he couldn’t stop touching me even now. The taste of him lingered thick on my tongue, salt and heat and raw satisfaction, but the ache between my thighs had only grown sharper—insistent, demanding.

He must have felt the way I shifted restlessly in his lap, because his hands slid down my back, palms spreading wide over my bare skin, thumbs tracing the dimples at the base of my spine. When I rocked my hips just slightly, chasing friction against his thigh, a low rumble vibrated through his chest.

“My turn,” he murmured, voice rough and dark, lips brushing the shell of my ear.

Before I could answer, he moved—effortless strength flipping us so my back hit the cool floor, the sudden shock of it pulling a gasp from my throat. He settled between my thighs in one fluid motion, knees pushing my legs wider, opening me completely. The air felt colder against my slick, swollen skin; I was drenched, embarrassingly so, and the way his eyes darkened as he took me in told me he saw every bit of it.

Cassian didn’t speak. He just looked—hungry, reverent—like he was starving and I was the only thing that could sate him. His hands slid under my thighs, lifting them, draping my legs over his broad shoulders. The position left me exposed, vulnerable, and the low sound he made deep in his throat sent a fresh rush of heat through me.

He started slow. Agonizingly slow.

His mouth ghosted over me first—just warm breath teasing my sensitive folds, making me twitch. Then the flat of his tongue, one long, deliberate lick from my entrance to my c**t, gathering my wetness like he wanted to savor every drop. The taste of me made him groan, the vibration humming against my skin.

“f**k, you taste even better than I remembered,” he rasped, voice muffled against me. “Sweet. So f*****g wet for me.”

I whimpered, fingers scrabbling for purchase on the floor as he did it again—slower this time, dragging his tongue through me like he had all night. When he reached my c**t, he circled it once, twice, light and teasing, before sealing his lips around it and sucking gently.

My hips jerked off the floor. He pinned me down with one forearm across my lower stomach, holding me exactly where he wanted me. The restraint only made it hotter.

He built the pace ruthlessly—tongue flicking fast over my c**t, then slow and heavy, alternating until my thighs shook against his shoulders. Every time I got close, he backed off, licking broad stripes lower, dipping inside me, f*****g me with his tongue until I was panting his name.

The sounds were obscene—wet, filthy, the slick slide of his mouth on me, my own broken moans echoing in the quiet apartment. His stubble scraped the tender skin of my inner thighs, a delicious burn that contrasted with the soft heat of his tongue.

When he slid two fingers into me—thick, curling just right—while his mouth latched back onto my c**t, sucking hard, I lost it.

Pleasure crashed over me in relentless waves. My back arched off the floor, fingers flying to his hair, gripping tight as I came against his tongue. He didn’t stop—kept licking, gentler now, drawing it out until I was trembling, oversensitive, thighs clamping around his head.

Only then did he ease off, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses to my thighs, my hipbones, the quiver of my stomach. His lips were slick and swollen, chin glistening with me. When he crawled back up my body, I tasted myself on him as he kissed me—deep, lazy, possessive.

His arms wrapped around me, pulling me into the cradle of his chest. My legs stayed tangled with his, bodies pressed close, skin to skin. The floor was hard beneath us, but neither of us cared.

We stayed there, breathing together, hearts slowing in tandem, the scent of s*x and sweat and us thick in the air.

I traced idle circles over the marks I’d left on his shoulder, feeling the steady thrum of his pulse under my fingertips.

He pressed a kiss to my temple, lips lingering.

Cassian was still buried deep inside me, his c**k pulsing with the last echoes of his release, our combined wetness slicking the place where we joined. The air was thick with the raw scent of us—sweat-slick skin, s*x, the faint metallic tang of desperation. His chest heaved against mine, every exhale a hot gust across my neck as he pressed open-mouthed kisses there, tongue tracing the marks he’d left.

I could feel him softening slowly, but he didn’t pull out. He stayed lodged inside me like he wanted to fuse us together, like if he let go I’d disappear. His arms banded around my waist, one hand sliding down to grip my ass possessively, fingers digging into the flesh as he rocked his hips once—just once—grinding deeper. A low, filthy groan rumbled from his throat when my walls fluttered around him in response.

“f**k, Sera,” he rasped against my collarbone, voice wrecked. “You’re going to kill me. I can still feel you coming around my cock.”

My body answered before my mind could stop it—hips rolling up to meet that lazy grind, milking him even as he softened. Another slow thrust, deliberate, dragging the head of his c**k over every sensitive ridge inside me. Pleasure sparked again, sharp and greedy, even though I was raw, oversensitive, dripping with him.

He shifted us without warning—rolling onto his back and pulling me on top so I straddled him, still impaled. The new angle drove him deeper, and we both moaned. His hands gripped my hips hard enough to bruise, guiding me in a slow, filthy circle that rubbed my c**t against his pelvis.

“Look at you,” he growled, eyes black with lust as he watched me move. “Taking my c**k like you were made for it. So f*****g wet you’re dripping down my balls.”

I couldn’t stop the sounds spilling from my throat—high, broken whimpers as I rode him slow and deep, chasing that dark, building heat. My breasts bounced with every roll of my hips; he reached up, cupping them roughly, thumbs flicking my n*****s until they ached. Then his hand slid between us, fingers finding my swollen c**t, rubbing tight, relentless circles slick with our release.

“Come on my c**k again,” he demanded, voice dark and commanding. “I want to feel you squeeze me one more time before I fill you up again.”

The words alone nearly undid me. I ground down harder, faster, the wet slap of our bodies obscene in the quiet room. His c**k thickened inside me again—impossibly hard so soon—stretching me open as I slammed down onto him. Pleasure coiled vicious and low, tighter than before.

He sat up suddenly, mouth latching onto my breast, sucking hard as his fingers worked my c**t without mercy. The dual assault shattered me. I came with a sharp cry, walls clamping down around him in brutal pulses, back arching as white-hot ecstasy ripped through me.

He followed instantly—hips bucking up hard, burying himself to the root as he spilled again, hot and thick, groaning my name like a prayer against my skin.

We collapsed together, trembling, sweat-slick and breathless. For long minutes there was only the sound of our ragged breathing, the wet slide as he finally slipped out of me, his release trickling hot down my thighs.

He held me close, arms tight, lips brushing my temple, my cheek, whispering soft, broken things I didn’t want to hear.

I let him hold me until our heartbeats slowed.

Then I pulled away.

The shift was subtle at first—I sat up, untangling our limbs. He reached for me instinctively, but I slid off the bed, feet hitting the cool floor. The ache between my legs throbbed with every movement, a delicious reminder of how thoroughly he’d ruined me tonight.

“Sera…” His voice was soft, hopeful.

I didn’t look at him as I gathered my clothes—panties torn and useless, discarded; dress pulled roughly over my head. My skin still carried his scent, his marks, his release drying sticky on my inner thighs. I didn’t bother to clean it off.

When I was dressed, I finally turned.

He was sitting up now, sheet pooled low on his hips, eyes wide and raw—beautiful and devastated all at once.

“This didn’t mean anything,” I said, voice steady even though my chest ached. “It was just s*x, Cassian. Incredible s*x. But that’s all.”

His face crumpled—just for a second—before he masked it. “Sera, wait—”

I walked to the door without looking back.

“Sera!”

His voice cracked on my name, desperate, pleading, echoing down the hallway as I stepped into the cold night air.

I didn’t stop.

I didn’t turn around.

The door clicked shut behind me, and I left him there—calling my name into the empty dark.