Chapter 6 #3
This bathroom was big enough to be a second bedroom, she thought, and enormous to a person who lived on a small boat.
The tub itself sat on a raised dais and the rest of the bathroom was luxuriously spacious, with an enormous shower that was glassed in on one end, and looked like it had at least one bench inside.
She would have thought that was an innocuous bench earlier. But not now.
“We’re going to have to talk about testing and birth control, you and me,” Zachary said, a rumble in her ear that she could feel down the length of her back, too. It felt like heat and wonder and she felt herself relax against him even more.
“I tested myself for everything when I left my marriage, because he was an asshole and I don’t trust him,” she replied.
Thinking about her marriage felt ridiculous here, in a place Joseph could never touch.
It almost felt like a story she was telling.
Not her life. “I haven’t touched anyone since.
But I’m happy to get tested again.” She tilted her head back so she could look up at him. “I have an IUD.”
“Perfect,” he said, and she saw that gleam in his eyes that made her feel giddy. “I get tested weekly. I’ll show you where.”
Romily had no idea what time it was. She barely understood where she was. She felt suspended in space. In the warm water this tub. In his arms.
“Perfect,” she echoed in reply, and watched him smile at her.
It sent her giddiness into overdrive.
Then his gaze went stern again, and she felt her whole body shiver into instant awareness, though she was sure that it was really and truly physically impossible this time. Not after everything that already happened.
Sure enough, he pulled her out of the bath and dried her off—frowning as she attempted to do anything by herself—and then marched her out into the bedroom again, but not to the bed. Zachary sat in an armchair that faced another window overlooking the marina.
Romily found herself breathless.
Because he was naked. Finally. She realized this was the first time she’d seen all of him—and he lived up to every last fantasy she’d had about him over these past months. She’d seen him shirtless before—all of those muscles with tattoos spread over him, seductive and warning at once.
It was different, somehow, when she could see all of him. Those powerful thighs, also tattooed. His strong, defined legs. And that enormous cock of his, rising hard and mouthwatering before her.
God help her, but he was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen in her life.
And now she knew how he smelled. How he tasted. What he sounded like when he came.
“Eyes up here,” he said, his voice an amused rumble.
Romily jumped, feeling absurdly guilty, but that gleam in his eyes was soothing. She took a breath. Then waited.
Slowly—almost lazily though there was nothing the least bit lazy about this man—he lifted one hand and drew a circle in the air. An order for her to turn around, and the funniest part was that she didn’t have to think about it. Her body simply obeyed.
And the strangest part was how it made her feel almost buoyant .
Then he had her stand there before him with her hands on top of her head as he applied a salve that smelled like sweet herbs and something more complicated to her still too sensitive butt.
He took his time rubbing the salve into her hot skin, until she was breathing a little faster and working hard to keep from shifting her hips around in reaction to a different sort of heat he was building in her.
Then Zachary pulled her to him and stood her there between his legs, assessing her with that cool blue gaze of his. Gone stern again, she noticed, as everything in her melted.
“I want you to kneel down, take my cock in your mouth, and get it nice and wet,” he told her in that formidable voice that danced all over her and made her skin prickle.
And made her pussy a molten soft heat immediately, as if she hadn’t already had more sex in a night than in months.
“You may say, thank you sir, for this privilege.”
“Thank you sir, for this privilege,” she said at once.
And Romily felt as if she had never been alive until this moment.
Not even in all the other moments that had already happened tonight.
They were all wiped away. She felt as if she had literally been created and put upon this earth for the opportunity to pull in a raggedy breath and do exactly as he directed her.
For the privilege of sinking down on her knees and settling between those thick, massively strong thighs of his.
She noticed the tattoo high on one thigh, and the one that wrapped around the other.
She noticed that this part of his was roughened with the same black hair he had on his chest and his head, and between his legs.
Every part of him was more beautiful than the last.
She had never wanted anything more than to lean forward and take that an enormous cock in her mouth as best she could.
He let her fumble around and then he took her face in one hand and made a soft sort of sound.
“We’re going to have to work on this,” he told her, sounding serious in a way that moved through her like a heavy baseline.
She had to fight not to shudder, because she suspected that if she did, she would come that easily.
Without permission. “There are few things I like as much as fucking a woman’s face.
I’ll need you to work on that gag reflex.
I want to come down your throat while I’m buried in it as deep as I can go. ”
She could feel tears coming out of her eyes again, because she wanted that herself. She wanted it badly. Not only that, Romily had seen how much he liked it herself. She’d watched through the window. She’d hungered— and now she was here.
More than willing to learn whatever he had to teach her.
“But not tonight,” he said quietly. “The sun is about to come up. I need to open the gym and get a workout in. But first, I’m going to watch the sunrise.”
He set her back on her heels and let her sit there as he pulled out a condom from the drawer of the table next to his chair. Then he held her gaze as he tore open the packet and slowly rolled it on.
Romily would have sworn that putting on a condom couldn’t possibly be hot.
And yet everything this man did was beyond merely hot. It was hard to imagine why there wasn’t a line down the alley and halfway to Jack London square for him, day and night.
When he was done he pulled her up off her knees and settled her astride him on his lap. He had her kneel up and once again, he gathered her wrists behind her.
“I want you to fuck yourself until you come,” he said, very steadily.
Very distinctly. “I want you to sink down on this cock and take all of it. Then show me how wet you are, and how much you want me. I want you loud and sloppy and determined, Romily. The only purpose of your life in this moment is to make us both come. Can you do that?”
Her breath was already more like a pant. She was vibrating deep inside. “Yes sir,” she assured him.
So he sat back and watched her as she did what he’d told her.
She lowered herself down, actually slamming herself onto him, so desperate was she to take all of him.
To show him that she could. That she would .
That she wanted nothing more than him filling her up, too big and too hard for that first gasping moment?—
Until the sheer glory of this washed right in behind.
And then, her wrists securely held behind her in one of his gorgeously strong hands, she began to rise and fall.
She was not so much setting up a rhythm as essentially making herself feel good.
Hopefully making him feel good, too. Romily didn’t have his precision, but she had that determination he’d mentioned—and anyway, what she was doing felt too good. Everything was too good.
He watched her intently, his eyes all over her face, and whatever he saw in them must have pleased him because he dropped his gaze lower.
His free hand rose to test the shape of one breast. Then he shifted to play with the other one.
She got the distinct impression that he approved the way they jiggled as she rocked herself against him.
As the heat radiated out from her pussy, picking up steam in all the places her ass ached and then rolling out to make her nipples almost hurt, they were so hard.
The more she fucked herself on that enormous cock of his, somehow even bigger than before by her estimation, the more she slumped into him. He seemed to like that, too. His hand moved again, this time to grip her ass, even though that made her yelp—because it still hurt.
But he didn’t stop. And the more she tried to do something about it, the harder she fucked herself against his cock. The wilder she moved against him, even though in this position, her clit was a danger as it rubbed against him and she wasn’t sure how long she could keep this up without coming.
Then, she could feel his fingers again. They moved from the reddened part of her ass to trace the place where his cock was disappearing inside of her. She thought he was going to pinch her again and she shuddered in anticipation of that shock—but he didn’t.
He moved his fingers in all of her wet heat and then he moved to her butt again. A moment later, Romily felt one finger press confidently against the bud of her asshole.
She was so startled that she stopped moving. But all it took was one tilt of his eyebrow, and she gulped, then started moving again. Maybe a little more carefully this time, as she tried to work out how she felt about all this new sensation.
Once again, it was like time lost all meaning.
There was his cock deep in her pussy. There was the ache in her thighs from all this lowering and raising.
Her shoulders were pulled back and her wrists were held tight in his grip And now there was the finger he worked into her ass, with an intent that she could not mistake.
She could see it on his face. She could feel it in the way he handled her.
There was a point where she stopped cataloguing all of these things and simply surrendered instead.
To all of it. Because this wasn’t about the separate pieces, this was about the whole.
Romily understood that on a level that shouldn’t have made sense, but did.
Because he was going to put that finger in her ass, she couldn’t do anything about it, and something about that made it all hot and spicy, dark and delicious.
And better still when she simply accepted it, like it was already done.
“Good girl,” Zachary murmured, and she understood that he knew what was happening inside of her. “You can come when you like, Romily.”
He could read all of this. He could read her. She was an open book to him, and that, too, felt like an impossibility. And made her feel safer than she ever had before in her life.
And the more she moved, penetrated so deeply in two places, the more she felt another tectonic shift happening inside of her. This time, the moment she thought about it—it was happening.
She was coming and coming, so hard it was shocking to her that something didn’t break?—
And then he was coming too. Romily found herself desperately wishing that they had already fast forwarded to whatever place they were going, so there would be nothing between them, not even that little bit of latex.
Thinking of him flooding her made her orgasm contract all over again.
This time, when they were finished and she was limp in his arms, he carried her to the bed and deposited her there.
She was vaguely aware of him moving around, then going into the bathroom. She heard the water turn on and then he was back beside her, using a warm cloth on her pussy and her ass, and a different one on her face. All the while, he murmured things she didn’t quite catch in that low voice of his.
It felt a lot like a lullaby.
“Time for you to get some sleep, little bird,” he said, reading her mind again.
But she frowned at him, though her body still felt as it was off on a different planet somewhere. Because she needed to tell him the truth, even now. Even in whatever state this was he’d left her in.
“I don’t really sleep that well,” she said softly.
His blue gaze was electric. “You will fall asleep and you will stay asleep,” he told her.
Romily felt her whole body shift at that, as if he’d adjusted her with that look alone. As if he could control her sleep as well as everything else.
Zachary lay down beside her and pulled her to him, settling her against his body as if she belonged there. As if she’d always meant to be tucked next to him like that. She pressed her face into his chest, breathing him in deep.
He reached off to the side and came back to the set of handcuffs, made of a soft leather and connected by a smooth chain. “You’re mine,” he told her. “And you’re safe.”
And then his too-blue eyes bored into her, as if he was daring her to dispute this vow he was making.
There wasn’t a single spare part of her that wanted to do that.
Solemnly, as if this was a sacred moment, Romily nodded. Then held her wrists out as he clipped her into the cuffs, made sure they were tight, and pulled her back against his chest.
He held her, then began to breathe. Slow and deep.
She followed suit and was asleep within seconds.
When she woke up, sunlight was pouring in all of his windows, she was alone in his bed and still in those cuffs, and Romily couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept so well. Or been so happy.
Especially when she looked up and saw him watching her from the doorway.
She couldn’t help the way she beamed at him. “I feel like a phoenix,” she said.
And Romily watched as this Viking of a man—her urban Viking—smiled. As if she was the only woman who had ever existed or ever would.
He made her believe that, too.
“Little bird,” he said, “I think it’s time to fly.”