Chapter 36
Chapter Thirty-Six
brIELLE
W e’re a mess of limbs and teeth and lips as Ethan pulls me from his truck and carries me through his house, not bothering to turn on a single light. He nips at the empty space under my right ear, pulling it between his teeth just hard enough to bruise. He kicks the door closed and crosses the large room, his mint drowning out the space by the time his knees bump the end of the bed.
“Ethan,” I whisper. I dig my nails into his shoulders and try to get better leverage. I need him—his knot and his scent and his bite .
I groan with the force of it.
“Princess,” he murmurs against the shell of my ear. He sets a knee on the bed, and then we’re falling. His arms cradle me, keeping me from feeling the impact. He pushes my shirt up, baring my belly and the bottom half of the lacy bralette. His lips roam down my jaw and throat, pausing at the hollow between my collarbones. His hands tighten on my waist as he grabs the neckline of my shirt with his teeth. It pulls taut, a half-second from ripping at the seams.
Panic seizes me so fast, I lose my breath and my throat dries. He cannot rip this shirt.
“Don’t,” I gasp.
He growls. Something in my mind must be messed up because the sound has heat rushing through me instead of worry. Slick coats my scent blockers, and I clench my legs.
“It smells like Jake.” His voice is low, and it rumbles through me.
Does it? All I can smell is him—his mint and his aftershave and the faint smells of the barn that cling to his jeans. Not even the spot where the jerk grabbed me smells any different.
I push him away as I shake my head and try to sit up.
“I don’t care,” I say desperately. “Don’t rip it.”
He grunts but releases the neckline, grabbing the hem of the shirt and easing it off instead. The bralette goes with it in a smooth move that has anticipation bubbling low in my belly. His calloused hands make my nipples tighten with each almost-there touch against my sensitized skin.
The moment the shirt’s free of my wrists, he throws it into the corner of the room. Just like with Caleb, it takes all my self-control to not cover myself, to stay still under his uncanny gaze. But, hell, is it worth it. His breath catches as he takes me in, his cheekbones growing sharper and his scent intensifying to the point it practically drowns us both. His eyes are a wild, brimming storm, full of need and ache and unfulfilled promise.
My stomach clenches even as another wave of need rushes through me.
He attacks my jeans with the same single-minded ferocity, pushing them off my hips and tossing them behind him before palming my thighs. He crouches in front of me, his eyes locked on mine, and then pushes my legs apart, his lips slowly tipping into a smirk when I don’t resist him.
My will crumbles, the need to feel his skin against mine overpowering the power I feel at having him so brazenly in want of me. I reach for him, trying to twist my hands into his hair, but he shakes his head.
“Hands flat on the bed, princess.”
The name rips through me, just as strong as the first time he whispered it at the Outpost. Princess . I never thought I’d be called that again. Something soft and delicate flutters under my sternum, but I ignore it.
“Now,” he says when I don’t immediately acquiesce.
My fingers tremble as I dig them into the mattress, the first ember of unease flickering behind my navel that I’m not quite able to quell, but I purse my lips and let my legs relax more. His lips flick up in a half-there smile as his eyes drop back to the small bit of fabric covering me. With a quick twist of his wrist, his knuckles brushing my sensitized clit enough that my hips buck, he rips the panties at the seams.
I can’t help but gasp.
Lavender explodes around us, so potent it’s borderline embarrassing. He groans as he throws the panties toward the rest of my clothes in the corner.
“What is it with you and Caleb needing to destroy expensive panties?” I ask, breathless.
His eyebrow rises even as he keeps his eyes between my legs.
“Expensive panties?” His voice is just as breathless as mine.
“Those were scent blockers,” I mutter, rolling my hips to try and get some kind of relief, some kind of pressure where I need it most. His hands tighten on my knees and force them even wider. “The newest on the market. They’re just as expensive as the La Perla panties Caleb has shredded twice.”
Now both eyebrows rise, and his gaze lifts to mine.
“ La Perla ?” he asks, disbelief and shock warring in his voice.
I swallow the lump in my throat and force my voice steady.
“Millionaire finance mogul, remember?”
The corners of his mouth tighten as his hands flex on my knees.
Silence stretches between us in one awful, unending moment.
And then he presses on my belly, encouraging me onto my back. His beard scratches at my thighs as he drags his lips along the sensitive skin. I can’t help but tense. I twist my hands into the sheet.
My back bows with the first swipe of his tongue, and he groans against me, forcing my legs even wider.
“Fuck, I forgot just how good you taste,” he mutters against my skin.
I roll my hips toward him, his breath on my clit enough to have me aching for more.
“Ethan, please,” I whisper.
He hums and tightens his grip on my knees, holding me open. And then he eats . Every swipe of his tongue, each drag of his teeth has me twisting my hands tighter into the bed, has my moans growing louder until they reverberate through the small bedroom. He sucks my clit into his mouth, pulling until I groan, my orgasm racing through me like a wildfire across barren woods.
“Oh, God,” I gasp, the words broken and breathless as he continues licking me, the scrape of his beard against my sensitized skin enough to have me hurtling back toward the edge.
“Give it to me, princess,” he says without ruining his pace. “One more before you get my knot.”
My body races to answer him, every single thought draining from my mind as he fucks me with his tongue. I tilt my hips toward his mouth, desperate for whatever he’ll give me that will relieve this ache for him. He chuckles against me and then pinches my clit. My back bows, my mind empties, and I scream, loud enough that my voice breaks. His touch softens at once, bringing me back down with a practiced touch that’s just as addicting as it was a decade ago.
I’m still trying to catch my breath when he stands, shucking off his clothes in a matter of seconds. The small light from the street lamp catches on a large tattoo tracing up his entire left side.
“A phoenix,” I breathe.
It’s red and orange with just a smattering of black, the opposite of the one that now sits behind my left ear. The color is hardly faded, though it must be a year old at least. The small lines that outline each feather are pristine, too. I can’t help but trace a portion of it, the tail feathers that follow the line of his Adonis belt.
“They rise from their own death, the ashes of their demise,” he says.
I nod. “They do.”
Without breaking his gaze, I tilt my head just enough to expose the new tattoo covering Brett’s final mark on me and my life.
His smile this time is softer, less guarded or fueled by lust. And then it’s gone, and he’s guiding my hands above my head, holding both wrists in his unyielding one-handed grip. His callouses catch on my skin with every slight adjustment of his body above mine. My nipples ache, and I can still feel my pulse in my clit despite the double orgasm.
“Ethan,” I whisper.
I push against his hold, but he only squeezes my wrists in silent warning. He shakes his head as he sets a knee on the bed. He strokes himself slowly. And then, without warning, he wraps an arm around my leg and pulls me to the edge of the bed.
His cock presses against me, thick and hard, and I tilt my hips, squirming against his hold. He smirks, those blue eyes sharpening as he teases me with just the tip, testing me like I’m some untried virgin. As if he wasn’t the one to take my virginity in that barn ten years ago.
“Patience,” he says. “You don’t expect me to rush this when I have all night, do you?”
He pulls away and then presses in again, the same agonizing inch of his cock giving me just a taste. Another bolt of need blasts through me. With a moan, I cant my hips, wrapping my knees around his waist, pulling him into me. He palms my belly, forcing me immobile, continuing the slow intrusion until my body trembles and I clench around him hard enough that he grunts.
I mutter a curse, and he smirks, his free hand running up my leg, pushing it into my chest at the same time he pulls out and then pushes back in. My back bows, but his hold on my wrists is unfailing as I moan.
“Please,” I whimper as he continues, each slow movement of his cock making my body ratchet tighter, my pulse beat faster. I writhe under him, my mind melting under the onslaught of sensation. He finally increases his tempo, and my toes curl as my knees tighten around him.
Sweat coats his skin, dampening the hair dusted across his chest and running from his navel to his dick. His lips are turned down, his eyebrows bunched, his gaze intent on me, roving over my body with each hard thrust of his hips. In the low light, he looks like an avenging angel, intent on one purpose alone, and that thought has another lightning bolt shooting down my spine, another ragged curse falling from my lips.
“You have such a mouth ,” he says with a grin. He looks up from where we’re joined. “I’ve never heard you say anything so crude before. Does Caleb hear this, too? Or is it something just for me?”
How in the world is he able to make stupid jokes when he has me so close to the edge that one small breeze across my nipples will send me over?
All I can manage is a moan, and he laughs, pulling me more thoroughly against him. He releases my hands in favor of dropping one of my legs and pressing it into the mattress, keeping me exposed to him. His callouses catch on the sensitive skin already roughed up by his beard, and I tremble, tilting my hips to keep pace with his. My noises grow with his tempo until my begging, breathless pleas drown out everything else.
“There we go,” he murmurs, moving my unpinned leg to his shoulder and circling my clit with a lazy, practiced touch. “Give it to me, princess.”
My mind is gone, turned to rubble under the wicked skill of his hands and body. The orgasm surges through me, taking away all thought and reality with it. I cry out, the moan a broken and breathless thing. Ethan follows me over the edge with a rough grunt. His head drops to my shoulder, his teeth biting at my skin just hard enough to sting. His hand on my thigh tightens, and then my body’s overwhelmed again. His knot locks us together between one heartbeat and the next.
“Oh, fuck,” I gasp. It’s practically a cry for help.
I run my hands down his back, scratching long lines across his skin, trying to get closer, trying to find an outlet for the overwhelming sensations. He twists a hand into my hair and runs his lips along my collarbone and throat.
“Easy, princess,” he whispers. “Breathe through it.”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” My nails bite into his sides and then I let out a wordless mewl that carries way more than just my body’s pleasure.
Ethan lifts away from my skin, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips turned in a deep frown. He loosens his hold on my hair and drags his hand down my neck, letting his thumb trace the hollow of my throat. I can’t help the slick that drenches us both, arousal still so strong in me. His chuckle is a little breathless this time, maybe even a bit awed.
Slowly, my body calms and my mind returns, the need to have him carve himself into my essence lessening with each passing minute. My cheeks flush as his knot releases us both, our combined mess spilling onto the sheets of his bed.
“You all right?” he asks.
I give a quick nod even as I let him take my hand and ease my body to sitting. He runs his mouth over the crown of my head, and I perfume. Again. This is honestly a bit embarrassing at this point. Maybe it’s because we’ve spent the last six weeks circling each other without giving in to the base needs of our bodies and our scent match?
Ethan doesn’t say anything, though, as he kisses my temple and urges me to my feet.
“Shower,” he whispers when I wobble on unsteady legs.
Already, the need for him is rising, building in me like we didn’t just knot. It’s never been this intense, not even last night with Caleb. And that was borderline irrational. What in the hell is happening to me?
“Shower,” he repeats, “and then I’ll give you as many orgasms as you need to take the edge off.”
My cheeks are bright red as he guides me into his bathroom.