Chapter 15 - Avery
“Breathe for me.” His voice was warm but dominant. It made me want to listen. “Relax and enjoy yourself. I’ll make it feel good.”
Could he?
It hurt. It hurt a lot. It was a slow, burning, aching stretch. I wasn’t sure it could change into pleasure, but then he thumbed my clit again, and the feelings that exploded through my body could only be described as fireworks.
I shook, not just from the bursts of pleasure, but also from the feeling of ultimate surrender, of what this meant, of the way I was letting him claim every part of me.
“Breathe,” he said again, and only then did I realize I’d been holding my breath long enough to make my lungs scream. “You’re doing so well, Avery.” My name dripped from his tongue like honey, thick and sinful. “I’m so proud of you.”
Was the way my chest swelled a good thing?
He started to pull away, just an inch or two, before pushing back inside me. The aching sensation heightened, and my body tightened.
“Don’t fight me,” he growled like an animal about to lose control. I gasped when he rubbed my clit again, finding a steady pattern quickly. “That’s it, kitten. Let that pain melt into pleasure.”
His hips continued their movements. In and out. Slowly. Stretching me. The pain faded as the coil in my stomach tightened. I squeezed my eyes shut; everything was too much, too deep. I was too full. His hand wouldn’t stop moving, demanding my body to obey.
“You’re mine,” he whispered, his hips picking up into a steady, deliberate pace. “My little slut, so willing for me.”
My breath came out in ragged gasps, the sparks of pleasure quickly morphing into flames, threatening to consume me.
“I can feel it, Avery. Can you?” His voice was dark, gravelly, laced with possession. “Your body is giving in, practically begging me to ruin it, and I can’t say no. Tell me you want me to ruin you. Tell me to fuck your ass. Tell me to make you mine.”
“Please ruin me,” I begged. “Fuck my ass. Make me yours. Please, Michael.”
He thrusted a little harder, deeper, and I cried out, though it was more like a half-sob, half-moan as I tried to be quiet.
My body didn’t know how to process all the sensations.
The way his cock felt in my ass, his finger circling my clit.
The way his free hand held my thigh, digging in, leaving marks, using my body as an anchor to fuck me.
The way I was surrounded by his smell thanks to the mask covering my face.
Everything was building faster than I could handle.
And he knew it. His finger moved faster. He was going to drag the orgasm out of me whether I was ready or not.
“Come for me,” he growled. “I want you to break for me just like this: stuffed full, moaning like a dirty slut.” He paused, groaning as he drove his hips forward. “Give me what I want, Avery.”
I shattered for him, tears streaming down my face as wave after wave dragged me under, my body trembling uncontrollably. It wasn’t just an orgasm—it was an ultimate release, a fucking exorcism of emotions.
Michael was talking to me, soft and praising, but I couldn’t focus. It sounded like we were underwater. Only when my body started to come down did I hear him say, “That’s my good fucking girl. Look at you… Fuck. Look at what I do to you.”
I was still crying, still shaking, when he finally stilled inside me, buried deep, shuddering his own release, filling me with his cum.
He pulled out of me, wiped me clean, and laid down next to me. Once he untied my panties from my wrists, he pulled me to his chest. I buried my nose into his shirt, breathing him in.
And we stayed like that for a long time.
His arms locked around me. My leg slung over his, holding him tightly. His chest rising and falling, steady and warm, grounding me. My body still clenching, still feeling him inside me, like it refused to forget him.
He didn’t remove the mask, and I didn’t bother asking him to.
Because, in that moment, it didn’t matter who he was.
I belonged to him regardless, and I wasn’t sure I was ready to know him.
My tears had finally stopped, my breathing slowed, but despite the false sense of calm, it felt more like the eye of a storm, like if I moved too much, everything would fall apart.
So, I didn’t move. I didn’t speak.
I focused on his hands and the way they felt as he grazed his thumbs across my skin in slow, possessive paths that sent shivers down my spine.
I bit down on my lip as I listened to the sounds coming in through my window. It was still open, the night still dark and silent. The world out there had no idea what sort of twisted scene just occurred in my room, what we’d done.
Except…
I groaned and buried myself in his shoulder, smooshing my nose into his body.
“What is it?” His voice was raspy, still low but softer than before.
I almost didn’t answer him, but the words, “I just hope he didn’t hear us,” spilled out before I could stop myself.
His thumbs stopped tracing for half a second then resumed. “Who?”
I turned my face just enough to mutter, “My stepbrother.”
It almost seemed like he was holding his breath for a beat, and then finally, his chest moved as he said, “Ah.”
I huffed. “I swear to fucking God, if he did, I’ll never hear the end of it. He’s always looking for new ways to ruin my life like it's his job.”
Michael was silent.
“He’s an asshole,” I continued, feeling the words rush out of me now that I’d opened the can of worms. “It’s like he knows which buttons to press and when to make me explode. It’s annoying. He’s annoying.”
One of his hands moved to my thigh, gripping it firmly, his thumb finding a soothing spot to graze, but I couldn’t stop myself.
“And he’s so smug about everything. He thinks he’s so fucking cool and untouchable, like we all exist for his amusement. And he always finds a way to make it seem like you’re the crazy person when you call him out for his bullshit.”
“Sounds like he gets under your skin.”
I scoffed. “He’s fucking embedded in it by now, like a splinter I can’t pull out. He thinks he’s hot shit, always poking fun at me, getting me all flustered. I can't even think about him without getting pissed off!”
His chest shook as he chuckled.
“What’s so funny?” I asked suspiciously.
“Nothing.” He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “Just imagining you all flustered, your cute little cheeks all pink, standing tall and defiant as he kicks the hornet’s nest.”
“Well, he lives to piss me off, so it happens every time he’s around,” I muttered. “It’s like it's his life’s purpose. He has to be the most unbearable person to exist. He’s always watching for more opportunities.” I paused. “Maybe I should just smother him in his sleep.”
Another chuckle. “Harsh.”
“Not harsh enough,” I replied, but my voice softened with sleepiness. “I wish I didn’t care so much, but it's so hard to ignore him. He just… he gets to me.”
I gasped as the masked man’s hand shifted further up my thigh, toward my ass, holding me tightly, like he didn’t want to let me go.
“Don’t let him bother you. You have me to lean on, to hold on to.” He kissed my forehead. “I’ve got you.” Another kiss. “I own you now, kitten.” He kissed me again. “You’re safe with me.”
“I know,” I whispered, feeling my eyelids droop. “You’re the only one who’s ever made me feel… seen. Wanted. Like I’m not too much. It’s like you already know what I need before I do.”
“You’re never too much. Not for me. You’re mine.”
He said it like a vow, but my eyes were closing, and I didn’t have time to decide whether he was a red flag after everything he’d done and said to me. Maybe I was afraid of the answer.