Chapter Fifteen: More Than This

Marissa felt it before she heard it. A low, reverberating rumble deep in Daniel’s chest, like thunder held too long. The sound wasn’t a word, just a groan, a broken fragment of breath and desire. But it traveled through her, sinking into the marrow of her spine and lighting her nerves like a fuse.

She arched in response, a moan escaping her lips before she could catch it. It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t polite. It was raw. Instinctive. A confession pulled straight from her body.

Daniel’s voice was lower, heavier than anything she’d ever experienced with a woman, and it caught her off guard in the best way. She hadn’t known a voice could feel like that. Could settle into her bones and unravel her from the inside out.

It was strange, unfamiliar… and undeniably arousing.

She blinked hard, trying to make sense of it. Not because she was ashamed, but because she hadn’t expected to like this. Not like this.

He was supposed to be just a comfort. Not this.

He murmured something again, unintelligible, half lost in her skin. But the sound alone made her hips twitch.

God, she thought. What the hell is this man doing to me?

And then his hands slid beneath her thighs, lifting her gently, adjusting her angle without asking, because he didn’t need to. Her body had already given him the answer.

When his lips pressed a kiss against her pussy—a slow, reverent kiss, like she was something sacred, and Marissa’s breath hitched. She moaned low in her throat. Not polite. Not contained. Just raw, unfiltered pleasure.

And something in her cracked open.

This wasn’t the side of her she showed often. With most lovers, she was generous, steady, patient. But not like this. This part of her was rarer. Wilder.

Her fingers curled tighter in his hair, pulling just enough to tell him: more.

Her thighs tensed around his head, not to trap, not quite, but to remind him that she could. That she was still powerful, even in this surrender.

She arched into his mouth, her voice low, breathless. “Don’t stop.”

It wasn’t just instruction. It was plea. Command. Confession.

And Daniel listened.

Her hand gripped at her breast when his tongue found that perfect spot. It was delicate and deliberate. Her back arched again, her breath catching on the edge of a sound she didn’t try to contain.

Her body trembled beneath him, not with fear, not with uncertainty—but release. Like something in her had finally exhaled.

Daniel didn’t rush. He moved with quiet precision, learning her rhythms, responding to every gasp and shift and tightening of her grip. Her pleasure wasn’t a goal. It was a dialogue, and he was listening to everything she wasn’t saying.

When she came, it wasn’t explosive. It was deep. Full-bodied. Her back arched, her thighs clenched around him, and her breath broke into a stuttered moan that was all instinct, all truth. For one long, suspended moment, the world narrowed to sensation. To breath. To Daniel.

He held her through it. His hands anchoring her hips gently, his mouth softening as her body trembled, his eyes flicking up to her face—not asking, just witnessing.

She let out a long, shaking breath as the tension unwound inside her, slow and molten.

Then she pulled him up, hands firm, decisive until he was above her again. She didn’t say anything right away. She didn’t need to.

Their eyes locked. And for the first time in days, maybe weeks, Marissa felt clarity. Not peace. Not forgiveness. But clarity. That what had just happened wasn’t a mistake. It wasn’t confusion. It wasn’t ****.

It was hers.

He opened his mouth to say something, but she silenced him with a soft kiss. Not ****. Not greedy. Just… full. Of gratitude. Of presence.