Nathan and Joice left the scene hand in hand, leaving behind chaos and the ever-louder wail of police sirens.
On Nathan's motorcycle carrying them away, they spoke little. Their communication flowed through touch.
Their bodies pressed together, skin against skin, exchanging tender glances whenever their eyes met.
There was a silent understanding, a bond forged in the fire of betrayal and shielded through battle.
Joice still trembled slightly—not from fear anymore, but from waves of adrenaline and overwhelming gratitude.
Nathan, ahead of her, radiated a calming serenity, a solid fortress after the storm.
They arrived at a towering luxury hotel, an oasis of glass and opulence starkly contrasting the violence they had just left behind.
Nathan led them to the reception desk, his hand still gripping Joice's as if afraid she might vanish if he let go.
"We need a room for tonight," Nathan told the politely smiling receptionist.
"Certainly, sir. We still have an executive suite available, with a magnificent city view," replied the receptionist.
Nathan merely nodded, accepting without concern for the price. He handed over his ID and credit card; the process was smooth and swift.
After receiving the electronic key, a neatly dressed bellboy escorted them to the elevator.
Soft instrumental music filled the fragrant air. Joice looked around, feeling as though she had entered an entirely different world—a safe, beautiful, luxurious world gifted to her by Nathan.
The attendant opened the door to the spacious suite. An elegant living room, a small dining area, and a doorway leading to the master bedroom with a king-sized bed that looked incredibly soft.
A glass balcony offered a glittering panorama of the city lights stretching below.
"Thank you," Nathan said to the attendant, handing him a generous tip before the door closed, leaving them alone in the luxurious suite's silence.
The silence was not awkward, but charged with intensity. Their voices felt too loud to break the sacred atmosphere forming between them.
Joice stood in the center of the living room, gazing at Nathan. Gratitude, admiration, and deep physical attraction flooded through her. She didn't merely owe her life to this man; he had given her back a bright future.
Nathan placed the electronic key on a small table and removed his jacket. He was about to say something—perhaps to ask if Joice was alright or if she wanted something to drink—when Joice stepped closer.
She moved so near that Nathan could smell the faint scent of her shampoo and the lingering traces of recently passed fear on her skin. Joice gently raised her fingers to Nathan's lips, silencing him.
"Nathan," she whispered, her voice hoarse and brimming with emotion. "I… I don't know how to repay you for everything you've done for me today."
Nathan opened his mouth to respond, to say it wasn't necessary—but Joice continued.
Standing on tiptoe, she brought her lips close to Nathan's ear. Her breath was warm and trembling as she whispered softly, words that instantly heated Nathan's blood: "Let me serve you. Let me satisfy you as best as I can. Allow me."
Nathan was speechless. He looked into Joice's eyes, seeing burning determination and sincere gratitude within them. This wasn't about obligation. It was about heartfelt devotion. Slowly, respectfully, he nodded. It was an agreement, a surrender to this moment.
It was the sign Joice had been waiting for. A small, tender, loving smile appeared on her lips before she closed the distance between them.
At first, her kiss was soft, almost tentative—an exploration renewed after enduring trials. But it quickly deepened into passion. Joice poured all her feelings—gratitude, admiration, relief, and desire—into that kiss.
Her hands cupped Nathan's face, fingers slipping into his thick hair. Nathan reciprocated with equal intensity, his arms encircling Joice's waist and pulling her closer until no space remained between their bodies.
In the rising tide of passion, Joice gently pushed Nathan back a few steps until his back met the cool wall near the entrance.
They paused briefly to breathe, foreheads resting together, eyes closed, their breaths mingling, ragged and quick.
With slightly trembling yet confident hands, Joice began undressing Nathan.
Her fingers unbuttoned his shirt one by one, revealing his muscular chest and faint, hidden scars—evidence of a life she knew nothing about.
She slipped the shirt off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.
Her lips followed the trail of her hands, kissing every inch of exposed skin—from his tense neck, down to his collarbones, across his firm chest and flat abdomen. Each kiss was a thank-you, an acknowledgment of his strength and courage.
Nathan tilted his head back, eyes shut, surrendering to sensation. His hands gripped the wall behind him, seeking anchor as the world around him narrowed to nothing but the touch and kisses of this woman.
Then, Joice knelt before him. She looked up, her eyes meeting Nathan's dark, lust-filled gaze. Holding his gaze, her hands deliberately unbuckled his belt, then unfastened his pants.
The sound of the zipper echoed in the room's silence, sounding like an announcement of inevitable intent.
Joice knew what men desired, and she wanted to give it—not out of obligation, but as a gift, an offering from her whole heart.
With gentle hands, she freed him. Nathan drew a deep breath, his chest expanding.
Without hesitation, Joice served him. She took her time. This was a ritual, a worship. She used her tongue, lips, and hands with practiced skill, fully attuned to every subtle reaction of Nathan's body.
She sucked and licked with deep feeling, treating Nathan's shaft as a treasure to be satisfied with mouth and tongue.
Every moan, every sigh, every tensing muscle was feedback she used to pleasure him even deeper.
She gave everything, losing herself in the act of serving, discovering new strength and satisfaction in her ability to deliver such profound pleasure to the man who had given her everything.
Nathan was utterly lost. The outside world—Anton, the police, the company—all vanished now. All that remained was the overwhelming, burning sensation building in every vein.
His hands, which had gripped the wall, now gently grasped Joice's hair—not to force, but to feel the connection, to hold her in place as waves of unbearable pleasure washed over him. His eyes were tightly shut, his face a mixture of deep concentration and absolute satisfaction.
After what felt like an eternity, Joice slowly pulled away. She stood, her face flushed, eyes gleaming with satisfaction. She took Nathan's still-trembling hand.
"Now," she whispered, her voice husky and seductive. "Let me love you completely."
She led Nathan—who remained weak and awestruck from pleasure—toward the large bed in the room. The dim glow of city lights bathed the space in golden hues.
With slow, confident movements, Joice began undressing herself. She didn't rush, allowing Nathan to watch her every move. A performance meant for Nathan alone.