14. Thirteen
I woke up feeling warm, safe, and utterly possessed. The sun was too high in the sky. We should have been on a plane to Paris by now, tracking Roche's movements. Instead, I was in Ash's bed, wearing his clothes, the ghost of ketamine still clouding the edges of my mind. My BPD brain cycled rapidly between euphoria at being held and terror that this tenderness couldn't last. One or both of those things had made me so fucking hard it hurt.
Ash's arm was a heavy weight across my waist, his broad chest pressed against my back. The oversized Army t-shirt I wore—his t-shirt, the one he'd dressed me in when I was too strung out to care for myself—had ridden up in the night, and his calloused fingers rested possessively on the strip of skin above my lace panties. My cock strained against the delicate blue fabric, a stark contrast to the masculine strength behind me.
I should have felt trapped. Should have been planning my escape, like I always did the morning after. But for the first time in my life, I didn't want to run. Maybe it was the lingering effects of the ketamine, or maybe it was how Ash had taken care of me last night, or the way he'd seen through my masks to the broken parts underneath and hadn't flinched away. I just wanted more of his touch, more of this aching fullness in my chest that had nothing to do with arousal and everything to do with belonging.
I shifted, trying to find some relief, and his grip immediately tightened. The possessive weight of his arm felt like an anchor, keeping my spiraling thoughts from dragging me under. Morning light filtered through gauzy curtains, painting patterns across his skin where it pressed against mine. Training had given him a body built for violence, all hard planes and brutal strength, but the way he held me now was gentle. Careful. Like I was something precious, rather than just another asset to be controlled.
The contrast between his protective touch and my usual morning-after panic made my chest tight. For once, my brain wasn't screaming at me to run. But Ash's steady breathing against my neck, the way his fingers splayed possessively across my skin… It felt like being claimed rather than just being used.
His voice rumbled against my ear, rough with sleep but somehow still commanding. "Running away, baby? You know better than that."
The touch sent me back to last night, to gentle hands guiding me through the worst of the high, to a voice that promised safety instead of judgment. The way he spoke, so sure, so possessive, made me feel like there was no escape. He wanted me here. And maybe, just maybe, I wanted him to want that.
"Just getting comfortable," I murmured, pressing back against the impressive hardness I could feel through his boxers.
"Mm." His hand slid higher under the shirt, trailing over my ribs. "How're you feeling?"
"Horny," I replied, grinding back more deliberately. "Very, very horny."
His grip tightened, stilling my movements. "Such a needy baby, aren’t you?" he growled, and the dark promise in his voice made me whimper. My whole body shuddered at the pet name, heat pooling low in my belly. Ash noticed. Of course he noticed. "You like that?" His voice dropped lower, rougher. "Like being my Baby?"
I could only nod, desperate for more.
"Think you can handle what you're asking for?"
I gasped as his massive length pressed against me, my eyes widening as I truly registered his size for the first time. Even through the fabric, I could feel how thick he was—bigger than anyone I'd ever been with. A part of me doubted I could take him. The rest of me didn't care.
"I can take it," I stammered, trying to sound more confident than I felt. But my voice came out breathy and desperate, betraying my nervousness. "Please, Ash. I need you so bad."
He shifted suddenly, rolling me onto my back and pinning my wrists above my head. The move was smooth, controlled. His eyes were dark as he stared down at me, and I caught a glimpse of the darkness he tried so hard to contain. The same darkness that called to something equally powerful in me.
"Tell me what you want, baby. Be specific."
The command in his voice made me shiver, but it wasn't fear that made my pulse race. This was different from the orders I was used to following, the demands made by marks who saw me as nothing but a pretty toy to break. Ash's authority carried something deeper, a promise of protection wrapped in possession.
"I want..." The words caught in my throat. Usually I was good at being whatever someone wanted, at playing whatever role would get me through another night. But Ash deserved more than my usual performance. He'd seen through every mask I wore, had held me through the worst of my spiral last night. "I want to feel safe," I whispered, the admission burning like acid. "Want to feel like I belong to someone who won't throw me away when they're done with me. I want you to touch me like you want me too.”
"Look at you, asking so nicely." His free hand traced down my throat, across my chest, making me arch into the touch. “See, I knew you had it in you to be polite.”
The praise hit me like a drug, better than any chemical high. It wasn't just the words. It was how he said them, like he saw all of me and wanted every part. I whimpered as his thumb brushed over my nipple through the thin fabric of his shirt. "Please, Ash. Need more."
"More what?" His grip tightened on my wrists, reminding me who was in control. "Use your words, baby. Tell me exactly what you want me to do to you."
My mind raced with all the filthy things I'd imagined since that first meeting in his office. But what came out was raw, honest. "Want you to make me yours. Want you to claim me so thoroughly I never doubt who I belong to again."
Something dark and hungry flashed in Ash's eyes, but there was uncertainty there, too. My heart stuttered in my chest. He didn't really want me. He was having second thoughts. Once again, I was too much, not enough. Wrong wrong wrong.
"Sorry," I whispered, starting to pull away. "I know you're not... I mean, you've never..."
"Hey." Ash's grip tightened, holding me in place. "Look at me, baby." When I met his eyes, his expression was intense, focused. "This is new for me. But don't for a second think that means I don't want you. I might not know exactly what I'm doing yet, but I'm a fast learner."
The hint of vulnerability in his voice, masked by that growling confidence, made something flutter in my chest. This was Ash Valentine—legendary profiler, deadly operative—admitting he didn't know everything. But instead of making him pull back, it just made him more determined.
His thumb traced over my bottom lip. "Now, are you going to help teach me what you like, or do I need to figure it out the hard way?"
A shiver ran through me at the dangerous promise in his voice. His eyes were dark with hunger and challenge, like he was daring me to show him exactly what he'd been missing. "Yes, Daddy."
His voice dropped lower, rougher. "Careful what you wish for, princess. Because I don't share what's mine." He leaned down, his breath hot against my ear. "And once I claim you? There's no going back."
A shiver ran through me at the possessive promise in his voice. This was what I'd been chasing in all those anonymous encounters—this feeling of being completely owned, completely wanted. My brain screamed at me to run before he could reject me, before I got too attached. But for once, I wanted to stay. Wanted to believe I could be worth keeping.
"Please," I breathed, arching up against him. "Make me yours."
Ash made a primal sound that made my cock throb and claimed my mouth in a bruising kiss. His tongue swept inside, demanding and possessive, like he was trying to devour me whole. I surrendered completely, letting him take whatever he wanted.
His mouth found my throat, and it made something dark and hungry twist in my gut. I wanted him to mark me, to leave visible evidence of his claim on my skin. But he held back, pressing kisses where I wanted him to bite, gentle touches where I wanted him to bruise.
"You can bite," I breathed. "Leave marks. I want you to."
The growl he let out made my cock twitch, but he shook his head. "Not yet. Not until I'm sure I can do this without hurting you. Not until I know I can control it.”
When he finally pulled back, we were both panting. His eyes were nearly black with desire as he looked down at me. "These stay on," he said, running his fingers along the lace edge of my panties. His voice dropped lower, rougher. "Want to watch you ruin them for me. Want to see you soak through this pretty lace when you come on my cock."
Heat flooded my face at his words, at the raw hunger in his voice. His fingers teased over the damp lace where my cock strained against the delicate fabric. "Look how wet you are for me already," he purred, applying just enough pressure to make me gasp. "Such a pretty little thing."
I writhed under his touch, desperate for more friction. "Ash, please..."
"Shh." He released my wrists, but his voice held clear command. "Keep those hands right where they are. Don't move them unless I tell you to."
I nodded frantically, fingers curling into the sheets above my head. The position made me feel exposed, vulnerable. Exactly how I wanted to be for him.
Ash took his time exploring my body, learning what made me gasp and whimper. His touch was reverent but possessive as his hands mapped the lean muscle of my chest, thumbs brushing over my nipples until they peaked under his attention. Each careful stroke claimed new territory, marking me as his. He traced the ridges of my ribs, following their path to my stomach, where his fingers discovered spots that made me squirm. The muscles there jumped under his touch as he explored every dip and plane, learning where I was ticklish and where pressure made me arch into his hands. He seemed fascinated by the contrast of soft skin over hard muscle, the way my body responded to even his lightest touch. When his mouth replaced his fingers, trailing hot kisses down my sternum, I couldn't help the sounds that escaped me. His stubble scraped deliciously against sensitive skin as he worked his way lower, leaving a trail of marks that would remind me tomorrow who I belonged to. When he nipped at my hip bone, it felt like being claimed, not just physically but completely, like he was marking me as his in every way that mattered.
"Turn over for me, baby," he commanded, voice rough with desire. "Show me that pretty ass."
I obeyed instantly, rolling onto my stomach. Ash's massive hands gripped my hips, positioning me exactly how he wanted me. The lace of my panties felt deliciously wrong against my aching cock as he pulled my hips up, getting me on my knees with my chest pressed to the mattress. I bit my lip as he pulled the back of my panties down, exposing my ass to the room.
"Perfect," he growled, running his hands over the curve of my ass. "Fucking perfect."
I heard the snap of a bottle cap, then turned my head and caught the slight tremor in Ash's hands as he dripped lube over his fingers.
"Tell me what feels good," he said, but there was an edge of uncertainty beneath his usual commanding tone. "Want to make this right for you."
His first finger pressed inside cautiously. In all our training sessions, through every intense moment we'd shared, I'd never seen him this unsure of himself. The raw concentration on his face made my chest tight.
"Like this?" The question came out rough. "Talk to me, baby."
“More,” I pleaded. I guided his wrist as he added another finger, showing him exactly how to curl his fingers. When I gasped at his touch, fierce pride flashed across his features.
His voice grew steadier. "Right there?"
“Right there!” I lost myself, rocking back against his fingers. This was what I wanted, what I needed. What we both needed.
By the time he worked up to three fingers, his earlier hesitation had transformed into focused intensity. Every reaction he drew from me seemed to fascinate him, like he was cataloging each whimper and moan for future reference.
The crinkle of the condom wrapper made me shiver with anticipation. Through half-lidded eyes, I watched his hands shake slightly as he rolled it on. His cock looked massive, bigger than I'd imagined during all those training sessions.
"Fuck," he muttered as he lined up against me. His voice caught. "Tell me if it's too much."
The first push inside pulled raw sounds from his throat I'd never heard before. His whole body trembled where he pressed against me, thighs shaking with the effort of going slow. "Jesus." His breath came in harsh pants. "You're so tight."
"Keep going," I encouraged, loving how wrecked he sounded. "Please, Daddy."
He sank deeper with agonizing slowness, making sounds that went straight to my cock. His hands gripped my hips hard enough to bruise, like he needed something to anchor himself against the overwhelming sensation.
When he finally bottomed out, I felt the tremors running through his entire body. "Holy shit," he gasped. Never in all our time together had I heard him sound so completely undone. “I can’t believe… Fuck.” But then something shifted in him. "Mine," he growled, voice dropping into that commanding register that never failed to make me shiver. "Fucking mine."
His hips started moving with growing confidence. Each thrust grew more certain as he learned my body, figured out exactly how to take me apart. His natural dominance reasserted itself, stronger for having worked through his uncertainty.
"So perfect," he said as I rocked back against him. "Show me how much you need this. How much you need Daddy's cock."
The words sent electricity down my spine. My cock throbbed against the soaked lace of my panties, leaking steadily. Every thrust pushed me closer to the edge. The dual sensation of rough fabric and Ash's massive cock overwhelmed my senses.
"Please," I gasped, not even sure what I was begging for anymore. "Please, Daddy."
"What do you need, baby?" His hand slid from my hip to tangle in my hair, pulling my head back. He sounded breathless, almost reverent. "Tell me."
"Need to come." Tears pricked at my eyes. "Please let me come."
His thrusts grew harder, but I could hear the wonder in his voice. "Want to feel you come on my cock. Want to know what that feels like."
"Right there." I writhed beneath him. "Don't stop."
I heard his breath catch as he felt my body clench around him. "Fuck, baby. The way you squeeze me when I hit that spot..."
"Please," I whimpered, knowing from his angle that he was inadvertently hitting exactly the right spot. "Right there, don't stop."
The command in his voice, the possessive grip of his hands, the relentless pounding of his cock was too much. I came with a broken cry, my whole body convulsing as pleasure tore through me. My release soaked into the delicate lace, ruining them just like he'd wanted.
"Oh god." Ash's rhythm faltered as my body clenched around him. His grip on my hips turned bruising. "I never knew... fuck, I can feel you..." His words dissolved into a raw groan as his hips snapped forward hard. I felt him pulsing inside me, his whole body shaking.
The shock and wonder in his voice, the way he seemed overwhelmed by sensations he hadn't expected, sent another wave of pleasure through me. I'd done that to him—made the legendary Ash Valentine lose control, made him feel something entirely new.
We collapsed together, Ash's weight pressing me into the mattress. Instead of feeling trapped, I felt... safe. Like nothing could hurt me as long as he had me pinned beneath him.
"I've got you," he murmured, pressing kisses along my shoulder. "I've got you, baby. You're mine now."
For once, my BPD brain was quiet. No spiraling thoughts, no fear of abandonment. Just the steady beat of Ash's heart against my back and the absolute certainty that I belonged to him.
"Yours," I whispered, and for the first time in my life, I actually believed it.