Love Me Again: Chapter Five - A Hunger Rekindled

Three years. One thousand and ninety-five days of waking up with a hole in my chest that no amount of fame could fill. I told myself if I ever got her back, I’d be slow. I’d be careful. I lied. Seeing her surrender, hearing her admit she still loves me, snaps the last bit of my control. I’m not just looking for a night of pleasure; I’m looking for a reclamation. I’m going to mark her so deeply that she’ll feel me in her marrow long after the sun comes up. Tonight, the "Lady Killer" finally gets his prize.

Chapter Five

A Hunger Rekindled

Killian

My hands are on her before the last word leaves my lips, gripping the hem of that ridiculously oversized shirt. With one sharp tug, I rip it down the middle. The fabric tears with a satisfying sound, and her gasp is everything I've imagined it would be for three years. She's bare beneath it, all smooth skin and taut nipples that peak under my gaze.

"Look at you," I murmur, my voice thick with possession as I trace the line of her collarbone with my fingertip. "All this time, hiding from me." I follow the path of my finger with my tongue, tasting the salt of her skin. She shudders, her hands coming up to grip my biceps, her nails digging in just enough to make my blood hum.

I don't rush. I'm a man starved, but I'm savoring the first meal after a famine. I kiss a slow, deliberate path down her body, memorizing the texture of her skin, the way she trembles when I find a sensitive spot. I linger at the hollow of her throat, then lower, my teeth scraping gently against the swell of her breast. Her back bows off the bed, a silent plea for more.

I chuckle, a dark, rough sound. "Patience, Charlie. I'm going to worship every inch of you before I ever let you come. You stayed away for three years? Then you'll wait a little longer for this." I capture one tight peak in my mouth, sucking hard, my hand rolling the other nipple between my fingers. She cries out, her hips lifting instinctively, seeking the friction she craves.

I pull back, leaving her panting and flushed. "Not yet," I command, my voice leaving no room for argument. "I want you desperate. I want you so wet for me that these sheets are soaked before I even think about giving you what you want." I slide down her body, my shoulders forcing her thighs wide. "I'm going to make you come with my mouth until you forget your own name. And then," I look up the length of her body, my eyes locking with hers, "and then, I'm going to fuck you until you remember only mine."

I lower my head, my breath ghosting over the slick heat of her. She's already drenched, her body betraying the desperate need she's trying to hide. The scent of her arousal is intoxicating, a drug I've been craving for far too long. I press a single, open-mouthed kiss to her pussy, and her whole body jolts as if struck by lightning.

"Fuck," she sobs, her fingers grasping at my head, trying to guide me where she wants me most.

I chuckle against her, the vibration making her whimper. "Oh no, sweetheart. You don't get to rush this." I use my thumbs to part her, exposing the swollen, sensitive bundle of nerves. I blow on it, watching it stiffen even more. "I'm going to enjoy this. Every. Single. Second."

And then I taste her.

I flatten my tongue and drag it slowly from her entrance to her clit, savoring the first real taste of her on my tongue. She's impossibly sweet, impossibly wet, and it's everything I've fantasized about and more. I do it again, slower this time, deliberately teasing. Her hips buck, trying to force more contact, but I pin her down with an arm across her pelvis, holding her still for my assault.

I feast on her like a man condemned, my tongue swirling and flicking, learning every ridge, every sensitive spot that makes her gasp and writhe. I alternate between broad, flat strokes and pointed, precise flicks against her clit. When I suck the hard bud into my mouth, her back arches off the bed, a strangled cry tearing from her throat.

"Please," she begs, her voice ragged. "Please, I can't..."

I release her with a wet pop, looking up her body. Her eyes are squeezed shut, her face a mask of pure, desperate pleasure. "You can," I growl, my voice muffled against her thigh. "And you will." I slide two fingers inside her, groaning at how tight she is, how she clenches around me immediately. "I want you to come on my face, Charlie. I want to feel you fall apart against my mouth. Give it to me."

I curl my fingers, finding that spot inside her that makes her see stars, and I return my mouth to her clit, sucking hard and fast. It only takes a few more seconds before she shatters. Her entire body goes rigid, then breaks into a series of violent tremors. A scream tears from her throat as she floods my mouth, her inner walls clamping down on my fingers like a vise. I don't stop, working her through every wave of her orgasm until she's a limp, panting mess on the black silk sheets.

I finally lift my head, my face glistening. I crawl up her body, caging her in with my arms. "One," I murmur against her lips, letting her taste herself on my mouth. "That's one. We're nowhere near done."

I can feel the frantic beat of her heart against my chest as she struggles to catch her breath. Her eyes are hazy, unfocused, but I know she's not done. Not by a long shot. I push myself up, my knees bracketing her hips, and with deliberate slowness, I reach for the button of my jeans. Her gaze follows my hands, her breath hitching in anticipation.

The sound of my zipper lowering seems impossibly loud in the quiet room. I peel the denim down my hips, my cock springing free, hard and heavy against my stomach. Her eyes widen, a fresh wave of desire washing over her features as she takes me in. I kick my jeans and boxers away, leaving me completely bare, completely exposed to her.

I lower myself back over her, my weight pressing her into the mattress, the heat of my skin branding hers. My cock rests against her slick, sensitive core, and we both groan at the contact.

"You see what you do to me?" I murmur, my voice a low growl as I rock my hips, sliding my length through her wetness. "Three years of this, Charlie. Three years of waking up hard for you." I notch the head of my cock at her entrance, teasing, threatening. "Do you have any idea how many times I've imagined this exact moment?"

She tries to lift her hips, to take me inside, but I pull back, denying her. "Ah, ah, ah," I tsk, shaking my head. "I told you. I'm in charge." I reach between us, my fingers finding her clit, still swollen from my mouth. I circle it slowly, lazily, and her body arches again, a fresh wave of arousal coating my cock.

"Please," she whispers, her voice broken. "Please, I need you."

"I know you do," I say, my voice thick with satisfaction. I lean down, my lips brushing against her ear. "But you're going to take me how I want to give it to you. And I want you to beg." I press the tip of my cock inside her, just barely, letting her feel the stretch before I pull back out again. "Beg me for it, Charlie. Tell me how much you need my cock inside you after all this time."

A fresh tear escapes the corner of her eye, tracing a path through the sweat on her temple. It's not a tear of sadness; it's one of pure, unadulterated surrender. Her pride, the last wall she's built between us, finally crumbles.

"Please," she whimpers, her voice cracking. "Please, I'm begging you. I need you inside me. I've always needed you."

That's all it takes. The words I've waited three years to hear. With a guttural groan, I drive into her in one smooth, deep stroke, burying myself to the hilt. The sensation is staggering—she's impossibly tight, impossibly wet, and the feeling of finally being inside her again, of claiming this part of her, is almost enough to undo me right here and now.

We both cry out. Her nails rake down my back, her legs wrapping around my waist, pulling me deeper, as if she's trying to fuse our bodies together. I give her a moment to adjust, to feel the weight and the reality of me filling her, stretching her.

"Fuck," I breathe, my forehead dropping to hers. "You feel... you feel like coming home."

I start to move, pulling out slowly before thrusting back in, setting a deep, punishing rhythm that's been building in my mind for years. Each stroke is a claim, a brand. I'm not just fucking her; I'm erasing every man who came before me, every doubt, every moment we wasted.

"Tell me," I demand, my voice ragged as I piston into her, the sound of our bodies slapping together filling the room. "Tell me you're mine."

"Yours," she gasps, her eyes rolling back in her head as I hit a spot that makes her whole body clench. "Oh god, I'm yours. Only yours."

I angle my hips, grinding against her clit with every thrust, and I feel her body begin to tighten again, the tell-tale tremors starting in her thighs. "That's right," I growl, my pace becoming more erratic, more desperate. "And you'll always be mine. No one else will ever have you. No one else will ever know this feeling."

I reach between us, my thumb finding her clit again, rubbing it in tight, hard circles as I slam into her. "Come for me again, Charlotte. Let me feel you. Let me feel you fall apart on my cock."

Her body bows, a silent scream on her lips as her orgasm crashes through her. Her inner walls clamp down on me like a fist, and the sensation is too much. With a roar, I bury myself deep inside her and let go, pouring myself into her, marking her from the inside out in a way she can never wash away.

I collapse on top of her, both of us shaking and breathless, our bodies slick with sweat. I roll us, pulling her with me so she's sprawled across my chest, my cock still nestled inside her. I can feel our combined release leaking out of her, and a primal sense of satisfaction washes over me.

I kiss the top of her head, my breathing slowly returning to normal. "Three years," I murmur into her hair. "And I'm never letting you go again."

Come back next week for another story.

The Trope: "You Are Mine" / Primal Play

The Thought: This isn't just a spice scene; it’s a dialogue. Every touch and every command from Killian is a response to the three years of silence Charlie gave him. He uses his mouth and his body to demand the truth from her, proving that while she might have run away, her body never left him. It’s raw, it’s intense, and it’s the moment their past and present finally collide.

The Question: Do you prefer the first "reunion" scene to be soft and emotional, or feral and high-stakes like this one?

Copyright © by LS Phoenix

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Published by LS Phoenix

New Hampshire, USA

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First Edition: March 2026

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