Chapter 9 Sienna
Sienna
Something warm presses against my back.
I think I’m dreaming at first. The way his breath hits my neck, and the weight of his arm heavy around my waist. His lips gently lap around the warm flesh at my neck while my brain takes a second to catch up.
He’s here.
My heart stutters, waking up before I do. My body goes rigid under the sheets, and my breath catches somewhere between a gasp and a whisper.
“Ben?” My voice comes out quiet and uncertain.
He doesn’t answer right away. He shifts slightly behind me, his chest pressing into my back, and his hand flattening against my stomach like he’s reminding me who he is.
“Go back to sleep,” he murmurs, voice so deep that I feel it more than I hear it.
“I can’t,” I whisper.
“Then don’t.”
He sounds tired, almost raw, but something else is buried under it. A familiar tension, the kind that coils between us no matter how hard I try to break it.
I roll halfway toward him, enough to see his face in the soft light slipping through the curtains. His hair’s a mess, his jaw is rough with stubble, and his eyes are shadowed and sharp even in the dark.
“What are you doing here?” My voice comes out smaller than I mean it to.
He studies me for a beat before answering. “Couldn’t sleep either.”
“So, you broke into my room?”
“Your door wasn’t locked.”
“That’s still not an invitation.”
He shrugs. “You never needed to invite me.”
I should tell him to leave.
I should pull away.
But I don’t.
I can’t. The warmth of him seeps into me, and it’s been weeks since I’ve felt safe enough to just breathe.
His thumb drags lightly across my hipbone, almost absently, but deliberately enough to send a shiver through me.
“You’re shaking,” he murmurs.
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
His tone softens. “What are you afraid of, princess?”
My throat tightens. I don’t know what to say.
I want to tell him I’m afraid of him.
Of us.
Of the way he makes me feel like I’m on the edge of something that could destroy me.
But what comes out is quieter and truer. “That this isn’t real.”
He moves closer, and his breath ghosts over my lips. “It’s real.”
I don’t know whether to believe him. He’s been my captor, my savior, and my undoing, and I don’t know where one version ends and the other begins.
But when his hand slides up my arm and rests at the back of my neck, I stop thinking.
He leans in, and I feel every inch of him press closer until there’s no space between us. His scent, heat, and heartbeat tangle with mine.
“Tell me to go,” he says, almost a dare.
I part my lips, but nothing comes out. I don’t want him to. Every time I push him away, he shows up like this, breaking in without breaking anything, and ruining me without even touching me.
When I don’t answer, he exhales, the sound rough and heavy.
His forehead touches mine. “That’s what I thought.”
The way he says it isn’t cruel. It’s resigned. Like he’s tired of pretending, too.
His thumb brushes my jaw, guiding my chin up, and I let him. Our eyes lock in the dark because I can feel the heat of his stare, and everything in the room fades.
The air, the noise, and the distance I swore I’d keep.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I whisper.
“Like what? I can’t see you.”
“Like you still own me.”
He leans in closer, mouth barely touching my skin. “Still?” he murmurs. “Sweetheart, I never stopped.”
My pulse skips, and I hate the way it responds to him. How easily my body betrays every bit of logic I’ve tried to hold onto.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I manage.
“Maybe not. But I am.” His hand slides up, fingers tracing the line of my collarbone, my shoulder, and down my arm. “You feel that? That’s real. Not a lie, not a deal, not a debt. Just us.”
I close my eyes because I can’t stand how he says it, and how convincing he sounds when I know he’s dangerous. I know loving him will break me.
And still, I whisper, “Ben…”
He presses his lips against the corner of my mouth, and I hold my breath. “Say it again.”
Don’t.
Sienna, don’t.
“Ben.”
He lets out a breath, like hearing his name from me does something he can’t admit, and I revel a bit in that power. “That’s better.”
He lingers there, our breaths tangling. The air between us hums like it’s alive. I can feel his warmth—too close, too steady—and his presence pulling every thought from my head until there’s nothing left but the sound of his heartbeat matching mine.
“Don’t,” I whisper again, but it’s weak. “Don’t make me—”
“Feel?” he finishes softly. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? You’re afraid you do.”
His fingers find my chin and tip it up until I have no choice but to look at him.
“Ben,” I warn as he inches closer.
“What?” His voice is a low drawl that prickles my skin. “You think if you say my name enough times, I’ll disappear?”
I try to turn away, but his hand catches the back of my neck. “You always do this.”
“Do what?”
“Blur the line until I forget which one of us is worse.”
He almost smiles. “You think I don’t forget, too? You make it impossible to stay away.”
“You make it impossible to breathe.”
“Then maybe we stop pretending it’s something we can control.”
“I can.”
“Can you?” He lowers his mouth to the column of my throat and begins marking it with his lips. “If I kiss you right now, you’ll let me.” His hand drops between my legs, and he parts them easily, touching my wet pussy over my panties. “I knew it. Fuck…”
I inhale and hold, not knowing what to expect. Not prepared to deal with him tonight after he told me he wanted me to shut up and play doting wife.
“Touch me, princess,” he mumbles into the crook of my neck. “No one will know how much you want me. You can keep pretenses up outside this room.”
“I don’t want you,” I say with zero conviction. “And you don’t want me.”
“Don’t I?” The tip of his nose runs up my neck. “What makes you say that?”
Pressing my lips together in irritation that I have to say it, I reply, “You just want an heir. That’s all.”
Ben is silent for a moment before his tongue flicks out, and he tastes me like he can.
Because he can.
“Let me prove it to you, princess,” he says softly. “The idea of coming inside you makes me hard because I’d own you, but I’ll make you a deal.”
I roll my eyes. I’m not making any more deals with him that will lengthen my sentence.
“I’ll pull out,” he continues. “I’ll do everything in my power to give you six months of not being pregnant with my child. To show you how much I do, in fact, want you.”
My head mindlessly rocks back and forth. “I won’t give you anything for that.”
“I don’t want anything for it. I just want your body. And you.”
His words are thick with promise and challenge. I feel the heat of his body pressing closer, his breath hot against my skin.
My resolve wavers, even as I try to hold onto the anger bubbling inside me. Ben's hand slides down my side, fingers tracing the curve of my hip before dipping lower, brushing the edge of my skirt.
His fingers hook underneath the fabric of my panties, pulling them up against my thigh. I squeeze my legs together instinctively, but he wedges his knee between them, forcing them apart just enough.
Before I can protest, one digit circles my clit, sending sparks dancing up my spine, but he doesn't linger there. Not even five seconds for me to enjoy or hate myself for enjoying it before he shoves two fingers inside me without warning, deep and rough.
I cry out, my walls clenching around the intrusion as he pumps them in and out, stretching me out with each thrust.
"Fuck, you're tight," he growls, his free hand pinning my wrists above my head. His fingers curl inside me, hitting the spot that makes my legs come up for relief off the bed.
I squirm away, but he's everywhere—his body trapping mine, and his mouth claiming my neck with bites and licks.
Pleasure builds fast, unwanted but undeniable, as my hips buck against his hand despite myself.
"Tell me you don't want this." He adds a third finger, scissoring them to open me wider. The burn mixes with the ache, while my wetness coats his hand as he fucks me harder with his fingers.
I moan, the sound escaping before I can stop it as my head falls back against the wall.
He suddenly withdraws his fingers, leaving me empty and throbbing. I whimper in protest, but he quiets me with a kiss, his tongue invading my mouth as roughly as his fingers had my pussy.
He yanks my panties down my legs, then unbuckles his belt with one hand. The sound of his zipper is like a gunshot inside the quiet room.
His cock springs free against my thigh when he positions himself to hike my leg up around his waist, and his manhood at my entrance.
"This is what you do to me, princess. Not just an heir. You."
With one brutal thrust, he buries himself inside me, filling me, and I scream. The stretch borders on pain, but it morphs into pleasure as he starts pounding into me. His hips snap forward relentlessly, and his cock drags against my inner walls, hitting deep with every stroke.
My nails dig into his shoulders, and he lets out a hiss as I quickly remember his wound and flinch away.
“Do it again,” he growls. “Hold on to me and take my cock.”
His hand grips my ass to pull me onto him harder. Sweat slicks our skin, our bodies slapping together in a frantic rhythm.
I wrap my other leg around him, locking my ankles behind his back and giving him full access to my body.
He drives deeper, his balls smacking against my ass, and the friction coils in my belly tighter and tighter.
Ben's mouth finds my breast, sucking my nipple through my shirt before ripping the fabric open to expose me.
He latches on, his teeth grazing the sensitive peak as he thrusts faster and straightens his spine.
“I’d love to go against my deal, princess. Do you know how hard it is not to come inside you?” His words make me clench around him, and he growls from it. “Fuck, princess, I love this pussy. I love fucking you. I love knowing you’re mine.”
I’m not his.
I tell myself that multiple times a day, but my body doesn’t listen. It submits and allows him access, my hips rolling up to meet his thrusts, chasing the friction that builds low in my belly.
His free hand slides up my thigh, gripping my ass cheek hard enough to bruise as he angles me higher, his cock hitting the spot inside me that sends jolts of pleasure sparking through my nerves.
He pulls back from my breast with a pop, leaving the nipple glistening and swollen from his attention before switching to the other side. His teeth nip sharper this time, tugging the bud between them as he sucks hard, the pull echoing straight to my core.
I gasp, my fingers tangling in his hair, not sure if I'm pulling him closer or pushing him away. My pussy flutters around him, soaked and slick, the lewd sounds of him sliding in and out filling the room with every plunge.
Ben's pace quickens, relentless, his muscles flexing under my hands as he pins me harder against the mattress. Sweat beads on his forehead, dripping down to mix with the sheen on my chest. He releases my breast, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses up my neck, his breath ragged.
“That's it, squeeze me like that. Your pussy's begging for my cum, even if you won't say it.”
A whimper escapes me, small and involuntary, as he grinds his hips in a slow circle, his cock stirring deep inside and stretching me wide. The pressure builds, and my clit throbs against the base of him with each grind.
I bite my lip to stifle another sound, but he notices, his hand leaving my ass to slide between us. His thumb finds my clit, rubbing firm circles that blur my vision.
“Ben,” I breathe out, more a plea than a protest. He thrusts harder in response, his fingers working my clit faster.
The dual assault has me trembling with my legs locked around his waist, shaking as my orgasm creeps closer.
He doesn't let up, fucking me with long, deep strokes that bottom out every time, his cock dragging along my walls, hitting every sensitive inch.
My nails rake down his back, leaving red trails, and he hisses in pleasure, bucking into me wildly.
“Come on, princess, let go. Milk my cock with that tight little pussy.”
His voice is rough, edged with his building release, but he holds back, fighting the urge to fill me up.
I arch into him, the tension snapping suddenly. My pussy convulses around him in waves as I come hard. He groans, feeling me pulse and tighten, but keeps thrusting through it, drawing out my climax until my body goes limp against him.
Only then does he chase his own, pulling out at the last second with a curse. His cock throbs in his fist as he strokes himself once, then twice, before hot ropes of cum spill across my stomach and breasts, marking my skin in sticky warmth.
He smears it with his thumb, rubbing it into me possessively before collapsing forward, his weight pressing me into the wall as we catch our breath.
His lips brush my ear, soft now in the afterglow. “See? I kept my word. But next time… do what I ask, princess. No more hidden deals. No more betrayal. Or I’ll just take it.”