Chapter 175 – Submission (18 )
Naomi’s lips parted, breath broken.
"I want you," she whispered. "Please, Lux... I need you."
She wasn’t even sure she said it. Maybe her body did. Maybe it wasn’t words, just sound. Just submission.
Because the mont it left her—whatever it was—he moved.
And the world stopped.
He slid into her in one long, slow, deliberate thrust. The kind you feel in your spine. The kind that redefined every nerve, every sound in the room, every beat of her heart.
Naomi’s breath vanished. Her eyes rolled back. Her body clenched around him like it had been waiting its whole life for this mont. For him.
And Lux—Lux groaned.
"You’re—f*ck—tight," he hissed, head dropping to her shoulder. His voice was strained, ragged silk. "I can’t believe we just did this a couple days ago... and yet here you are—milking like so desperate accountant during quarterly close, begging for caffeine and crying into spreadsheets."
Naomi would’ve laughed.
If she wasn’t currently fighting for her soul.
Her moan was muffled against her wrist, teeth pressed to her skin as she tried—futilely—not to scream. Not because she didn’t want to. Not because she wasn’t proud of what he did to her.
But because if anyone heard...
She didn’t care if she got in trouble.
No.
She was afraid of what Lux would do to them.
Because she knew this man.
This demon.
This CFO of Hell who buried enemies in financial ruin for simply wasting his ti or interrupting his date.
If anyone barged in...
She clenched harder at the thought. Body and fear and pleasure crashing all at once.
Lux groaned again. "Oh? That little squeeze—was that possessive, sweetheart?"
He thrust deeper, slower, dragging himself along her insides like he was carving his na into the walls of her body.
"You want to keep here, don’t you?" he muttered, panting, hand wrapped tight around her breast. "Trapped. Buried. Owned."
She could only whimper. Nod. Cry quietly into her own arm as her legs curled around his waist and pulled him closer—deeper.
Her body welcod him like he was a secret it already knew by heart.
And he knew it.
He kissed her again—her neck, her shoulder, her lips. He kissed every inch of her that dared to tremble.
"You’re perfect," he growled, driving into her again, just enough to make her bite her lip raw. "You’re mine."
Naomi shattered in silence.
And Lux held her through the quake.
Her body pulsed, spasd—then collapsed, limp and trembling against the sheets. Her heart hamred in her chest, a wild rhythm barely keeping up with the chaos he’d just wrecked inside her. Inside every part of her.
She could still feel him.
Inside.
The slow, molten warmth that lingered deep in her core—heavy and unmistakably his—left her feeling full in a way that was less physical and more... claid. Her body was still fluttering with aftershocks, her thighs sticky and slick, their skin clinging with heat and sweat and sothing more.
Sothing that said ’You were his. And now everyone will know it.’
She couldn’t speak. Could barely breathe.
And still, he didn’t let go.
Lux moved slowly, reverently, as though the fire he’d stoked and stoked and claid wasn’t done, but he was giving her permission to float inside the aftermath. To just exist in the gravity of it. His hand slid to her face, fingers brushing sweaty strands of hair from her cheeks.
His eyes were still glowing red, pupils wide with residual hunger. But his touch—his touch had gone tender.
Too tender.
Naomi blinked up at him, chest still rising and falling like it hadn’t figured out how to settle.
"Lux..." she whispered, voice raw and soft and unfamiliar in her own ears.
He didn’t say anything at first. Just stared at her, gaze flickering over her face, her throat, the swell of her chest still heaving beneath him. He dragged the back of his knuckles down her cheekbone—slow, soft.
Then he leaned down, kissed her forehead.
"You okay?" he murmured.
She nodded, too fast.
He smirked faintly. "Liar."
"I’m fine," she whispered. "Just..."
"Wrecked?" he offered. "Devastated? Unable to rember your last na?"
"...Sticky," she said flatly.
That made him grin.
A smug, unrepentant, Lux Vaelthorn grin.
"Mm," he said, nuzzling against her cheek. "You look perfect like this."
"I look like a cri scene."
He chuckled low in his throat. "And yet, here I am. Still cuddling the evidence."
Naomi tried to move—only to wince. Her legs refused to obey. Her muscles were sore in ways she hadn’t predicted. Her thighs still trembled. The sheets clung to her back in damp patches.
And yet... despite it all, despite the ss, the soreness, the way her lungs still hadn’t caught up to oxygen properly...
She felt safe.
Which, frankly, was insane.
Because she was lying beside a high-ranking demon. Hell’s financial warlord. The literal manifestation of greed and lust and dangerous promises in custom-tailored slacks.
But now...
Now he was just a man with strong arms and a too-warm chest and a heartbeat she could hear under her cheek. And she didn’t want to move.
Didn’t want to leave.
Lux shifted just enough to untangle her wrists from the loosened belt, letting the soft leather fall to the side. He massaged her wrists gently, tracing the faint pink lines with the pads of his thumbs.
"You always this obedient when soone ties you up?" he teased lightly.
She shot him a tired glare. "No. You’re just persuasive."
"I am a public speaker."
"You’re a nace."
He leaned down and kissed her lips again—slow, lazy, and full of sothing terrifyingly sweet.
"Want to draw you a bath?" he murmured. "Or I could summon Corvus and terrify him with cleanup duty."
Naomi let out a broken laugh. "You will not let that bird see like this."
"Why not? He’d be impressed. And probably jealous."
She rolled her eyes and nuzzled into him again. "Lux?"
"Mm?"
"You’re staying here tonight, right?"
He blinked. Then smiled.
"Naomi," he whispered, tucking her closer, wrapping his arm fully around her waist, "I’m not going anywhere."
And she believed him.
Even if the world burned tomorrow.
Right now?
She had her demon.
And he had her.
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