Chapter 32
The Resolution
Jenna
The house is eerily quiet when I stand in the entryway, looking around.
The living room is an ominous pit of pitch-black darkness, whereas light invites me down the hall, toward Ian.
He told me to come to the bedroom once Killian was done with me, but I can’t bear to face him like this.
I feel shaken to the core and fragile. And more so, I feel Killian all over.
The slight sting lingering on my ass, the pulsing desire between my legs, and the minty taste of him on my lips.
Going to Ian feels wrong. Being with anyone seems wrong.
It’s not just Killian’s rejection, sending me away after something deeply intimate, that makes the loneliness surface; it’s also the memory of how Ian has done the same lately.
He has barely touched me over the last couple of weeks.
He has made me come and held me in his arms, but he has held off on anything that might push me.
No blow jobs, discipline, or punishments.
I hate it. I’m so scared that my panic when he gave me my “gift” has changed the way he sees me—that he doesn’t want me anymore.
He doesn’t want a young woman who crumbles so easily, unable to hold herself together.
So I ignore the light and Ian’s order and go into the dark living room.
Carefully, I feel my way through the space, toward the couch, where I huddle up.
Soon, shivers set in, making me hug myself against the chill in the air.
But it’s not my lack of clothes that has me shivering.
Sheer overwhelming emotion floods my system with such a force that it rattles me from within.
I want to reach for the blanket that I know is draped over the armrest, but I can’t seem to peel my arms from my knees.
I just keep hugging them tight, frozen in place, overcome by everything.
The sound of the flogger whooshing through the air rips through my mind with a clarity that makes me gasp.
Then come my moans, echoing through my head, loud and shameful, making me curl in on myself.
Then there’s Killian’s rejection, lingering cold and lonely.
When footsteps sound in the hall, I hold my breath, hoping Ian won’t find me, but a moment later, the light comes on. There’s no hiding in this house.
“What are you doing here?” he asks softly. “I told you to come to the bedroom.”
“Please leave me alone.” I finally grab the blanket, the need to cover myself snapping me out of the frozen dejection.
With a few long strides, he closes the distance between us and sinks onto the couch. “I’m not leaving you.”
He lifts me straight into his lap, and my frustration rises even as tears blur my vision.
The closeness is everything I need, yet everything I want to avoid, because it’s not real.
I push to get free. “Just stop. I’m not some toy you can just throw around however you like without consequence.
I don’t want your fake comfort. I don’t want to be some pity project. ”
“You’re not.” He tightens his hold on me as if to prove his sincerity, but my mind is too distraught to believe him.
“Stop pretending that you care. I can’t take it anymore.” I put in enough strength to get free and slip onto the couch. On staggering feet, I shoot up, about to run off, but Ian grabs me before I can get out of reach and pulls me back on the couch.
Locking his hands around my head, he spears me with a serious gaze. “I do care about you, Jenna. I didn’t plan to, but I do. A lot.”
“Stop lying. I know you don’t want me anymore.”
“What on earth makes you say that?”
“You’ve stopped touching me.”
“I’m touching you all the time.” He strokes his thumbs along my cheeks as if to prove his point.
“Not like that.” I push at his arms, but he only tightens his grip, keeping my face trapped in the frame of his hands.
“How, then?”
“After that day. In the music room. When I panicked… You don’t touch me anymore.”
“Ah,” he says, a strange sort of relief softening his features.
“I know I ruined it,” I continue. “And I get it. I’m much younger than you. You don’t have to pretend anymore.”
“Ruined it? How?”
“My reaction. My bawling. The panic. I—”
“Jenna,” he cuts me off. “You’ve bawled in my arms many times since you came here. You’ve screamed your lungs out in my arms—for various reasons. I’m not deterred by a little panic.”
“Then why?”
His brows furrow in a dangerous expression. “Because I want to protect you. I was afraid to repeat that episode—to push you too far.” His jaw tics. I think he’s about to say more, but he just watches me with scary intent and so much desire that it silences my doubt.
Tears pool in my eyes. I want to ask why he sent me up to Killian if he wants to protect me, but I know it’s complicated, and the relief is greater than the need to understand how this all adds up. “So, you still want me?”
He slides a hand down to wrap it around my throat, forcing my head back. His eyes lock onto mine, demanding and direct. “Sweetheart, I’ve been rubbing myself off in the shower twice a day to control the urge I’m feeling around you.”
“You have?”
“Do I need to prove to you how much I want you?”
My tongue darts out to lick my lips. I want to say, yes please, but I can’t seem to form the words.
Ian understands anyway. “On your knees,” he orders.
Before I can react, he grabs my arms and guides me off the couch, onto my knees. Rising before me, he makes quick work of unbuckling his belt and freeing his already hardening cock. “Open,” he demands, holding it toward my mouth.
I eagerly obey, opening wide as he pushes inside. He doesn’t go easy or give me time to adjust; he simply grabs me by the hair and starts fucking my throat like he’s just served a ten-year prison sentence in celibacy.
He grunts with feral desire, gripping my hair harder as he picks up pace. I sputter and choke around him, but he keeps going, only pausing for seconds at a time to let me breathe.
“Swallow,” he demands on a low growl when his rhythm slows to abrupt jerks.
The order barely registers before cum shoots into my mouth, making me gag and gasp around him, struggling to swallow it all.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” he rasps, taking a moment to recuperate before slowly pulling out.
Keeping his grip tight on my hair with one hand, he leans down and slaps my cheek. It’s not hard, but it makes me gasp.
“You think you’re too young for me—that I don’t want you because of your age. I want you because of it. Because you’re so goddamn innocent, yet so fiercely strong.”
He must see the doubt in my eyes, because he adds, “Yes, you are. You’re strong, Jenna.
More than you know. More than I could have ever imagined.
You panicked. So what? It’s a wonder you haven’t panicked every day while being here.
I saw how Killian treated you in the kitchen the other day.
I expected you to crumble, but instead, you held your ground. You stood up to him.”
“I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did. You didn’t cower or run. You stayed and gave him a piece of your mind.”
Shame wells, making tears burn behind my eyes. “I wanted him.”
“Wanting something is not a weakness. It can be depraved or immoral, but never weak. It just is. Leaning into it and embracing it like you did tonight—yes, I heard you moaning—that takes strength.”
“I—” I close my lips again. I don’t consider myself strong. But what Ian says resonates with some part of me that’s hidden deep behind layers of guilt and insecurities.
“You’re strong, Jenna,” he insists. “And I want you so damn much, you have no idea.” He leans down to slip his free hand between my legs.
“One day, I’m going to fuck your tight little pussy and claim your secondhand virginity.
” Dipping his fingers between my slick lips, he toys at the edge of my opening.
“But first, I want to draw it out—enjoy your innocence and build anticipation.”
“Please,” I beg as he just keeps stroking without sinking inside.
It drives me insane. So much need has built within me tonight, just simmering and coiling without release.
And not just tonight—ever since I came here.
Suddenly, it overcomes me—a wild, desperate need to have something inside me. “Just take it. Please.”
“No. You’re going to wait. Because I want you to.” He sinks to his haunches, grabs the back of my neck tight as he slides his finger over my clit, coating it in my own moisture. “You’ll suffer for me, and I’ll suffer right alongside you. And I’ll enjoy every single moment of it.”
He keeps toying right at my opening, driving me wild.
“Please,” I repeat on a gasp, desire ripping through me with jerks and shudders.
He abruptly removes his hand. “No.”
An empty ache lingers deep within me at the loss of his touch.
I want it back, yet I don’t. I can’t take any more teasing.
He’s been denying me for so long, and after tonight with Killian and finally feeling Ian stake his claim on me again, my need is raging with a force that’s painful.
I clench my hands, then scratch at my thighs, wanting to reach for my clit, but not daring to do so without permission.
“But…” Ian reaches behind me, slipping his finger between my ass cheeks. “Once Killian has claimed your ass”—he moves his finger deeper, touching that hole—“I’m going to use it too. You’ll get to experience how it really feels when I claim you.”
I freeze. My whole body is strung tight, my breath coming in small gasps. I don’t dare to move. He just hovers there, not moving, just touching. I want to beg him, but I can’t make myself sink that deep and admit that Killian is right: that he’s turned me into a dirty ass slut.
Ian hums. “Oh, yes. I know you want this. You can’t hide from me. I see it all.” He gives me a small shake by the neck and leans closer. “Right here in your beautiful green eyes. You want Killian to fuck your ass, and you’ll love it when I do the same.”
I swallow hard, suppressing the urge to protest.
He must see the minuscule shake of my head, because he smiles.
“Oh yes. You can’t even deny it, because you know it would be a lie.
” He lifts his finger from my ass to spit on it, then presses it back against my rear opening.
I gasp when he starts circling. The motion is maddening.
He barely even presses, yet it makes my nerves sizzle and crackle.
It’s not enough to make me come, but it drives my need through the roof.
“P-please.” I shut my eyes tight and lean my head back into Ian’s tight grip. My voice goes shrill. “Please.”
“Touch your clit, Jenna. Show me what a good little ass slut you are and come while I finger your tight little hole.”
Hearing the words Killian uses to degrade me on Ian’s lips is horrible. Yet my whole body starts buzzing, surging toward the peak the moment I touch my clit.
“That’s it,” he croons as I rub eagerly. “Come while you imagine me sinking deep inside your ass, stretching you wide.”
“Yes,” I moan, imagining just that—Ian claiming my body and every last piece of me he hasn’t already taken.
He pushes inside, just the very tip of his finger. “Imagine how I’ll fuck you after Killian has taken you back here.”
I groan in shock at the obscene idea, but even so, his words throw me over the edge. I come with a long, half-screamed moan, bucking and gripping onto his arm as shudders and shivers grip my body.
“This is so fucked up,” I whisper when he releases my neck, letting me fall forward and collapse into him.
“It is,” he agrees, pulling me into him and placing a soft kiss on top of my head. “But it feels right in a way nothing has in a very long time.”
I press myself into him and inhale his warm cedar-cardamom scent, imprinting it to my memory, hoping I will never lose it. Because he’s right. As fucked up as this all is, I’m starting to find a sense of belonging I’ve never felt anywhere else.