Chapter 3
The shame hit me like a punch to the face, but the pleasure crashed over me in relentless waves, leaving no room to breathe.
Rake's fingers pushed in, deep and ruthless, stripping my mind bare. I felt like a pat of butter tossed into an oven, melting into a hopeless mess, clinging to his scorching shoulders like a drowning woman grasping at a lifeline.
"Oh God… no…" I screamed, sobbing, until the torturous blend of shame and ecstasy dragged me into my first climax.
For a moment, the world muted itself, leaving only Rake Harrison—this man I couldn't escape, my captain, my… damn it, my addiction?
The aftershocks buzzed like tiny electric currents through my toes.
I collapsed onto the bed, mind blank, gasping like I'd just run a marathon. Sweat clung to my back, mixing with the stale reek of old carpet and cigarette smoke, suffocating me.
I wanted to close my eyes, just for a second, when a deafening crash erupted from the next room, followed by the raucous laughter of Brad and his rookie crew. My heart leapt into my throat.
"Hey! Brad! You lost! Strip those boxers!" The shout sliced through the paper-thin wall, jolting me from my haze. Panic drenched me like ice water.
If they heard us… if they knew their revered captain was pinning down their manager right now…
"Shh." Rake caught my fear instantly. Instead of stopping, a wicked smirk curled on his face, a jarring contrast to his usual icy demeanor.
He scooped me up like I weighed nothing, tossing me onto the sagging bed. The mattress groaned under the impact.
"Careful…" I clapped a hand over my mouth, tears brimming in my eyes. "They'll hear us."
"Try not to scream," Rake murmured, his voice low and dangerous. Before I could process it, he did something that left me speechless.
Grabbing my ankles, he hoisted my legs over his shoulders, then lowered himself, burying his face between my thighs.
"Rake! No!" I mouthed a silent scream, trying to push him off.
But he was an unmovable mountain. His warm, rough tongue dragged over that already swollen, sensitive spot, sending a jolt straight up my spine. I bit down on my hand to stifle the cry threatening to escape.
The noise next door didn't let up. "Damn it, this dump doesn't even have a decent pay-per-view channel!" Brad griped.
Just a wall away, the star player of the Arctic Storm team knelt on this creaky bed, savoring me like I was the sweetest dessert.
His tongue moved with obscene precision, every suck punctuated by wet, slick sounds that felt deafening in the stifling room.
It was insane. The forbidden thrill amplified every sensation a thousandfold.
I knew I should shove him away, but my hands betrayed me, tangling in his damp hair, pulling him closer.
"Relax, Olivia," he rasped between flicks, lifting his head. His lips glistened with me, his eyes wild and intoxicated. "Let them hear. Let them know who you belong to."
"No… please…" I whimpered, my body arching traitorously into him, craving more.
He dove back in, fiercer this time, forcing me to unravel under the weight of being caught at any second.
"Ah—!"
The second climax slammed into me, and I nearly bit through my hand to keep quiet. Violent tremors blurred my vision; it felt like I'd lost myself completely.
Next door, the chatter stopped for a heartbeat. "Hey, did you guys hear something?" someone asked.
Rake froze, lifting his gaze, his wolfish eyes locked on the wall. A cold, predatory smirk tugged at his lips.
He leaned close to my ear, his whisper meant for me alone. "Looks like you need a better way to keep that mouth shut, manager."
He straightened up, peeling off the towel that had been barely hanging on.
The hard, throbbing length sprang free, its sheer size and heat looming over me, hovering inches from my face.
