Chapter 14
He dries me with an odd, meticulous care, his large hands moving over my skin as if memorizing me, before wrapping a second, dry towel around my waist. He’s already dry, his body a canvas of dark bruises and raw power in the dim light of his bedroom.
We’re in his bedroom now.
He steps behind me, his arms coming around my waist, and pulls my back flush against his chest. His hands are huge, splayed across my stomach.
He rests his chin on my shoulder, his bruised cheek rough against mine. We stare at our reflections in the dark glass of the window—one large, menacing shadow consuming a smaller, paler one.
“My little bee,” he murmurs, his voice a low vibration against my skin. “Finally in my apartment. In my bed.” He presses a soft, lingering kiss to my neck. “I don’t ever want to let you out of here.”
The words should terrify me. A small, rational part of me recognizes them as the words of a captor. But the rest of me, the part that’s been awakened tonight, simply shivers in response.
Panic tries to cut through the haze of arousal.
He’s going to fuck me. Now. I’m going to let him. The certainty of it is a foregone conclusion. But I’m a virgin.
And another thought, a more complicated one, surfaces—a feeling of selfishness. This whole night, he’s been the one touching me, tasting me, making me fall apart. He gave me everything, and I’ve given him nothing but a fight and a bitten hand.
A plan sparks in my mind. A way to delay the inevitable. A way to… reciprocate. To even the scales, just a little.
I turn in his arms, a bold move that surprises him into loosening his grip.
Before he can react, I climb onto his bed—a massive, low-profile bed with a dark grey comforter that feels like silk beneath my knees. I crawl to the edge where he’s still standing.
I kneel there, the position sickeningly familiar from the library, from the park. But this time, it’s my choice. My face is now directly level with the thick, heavy bulge behind the towel wrapped loosely around his waist.
My mouth is dry. “Do you…” I have to swallow, my voice a nervous, uncertain croak. “Do you want me to… touch you? There?” I gesture vaguely with my chin. “With my mouth, I mean. I want to. I want to make you feel good.”
The silence stretches. I can’t bring myself to look up, to see his reaction. I just stare at the knot of his towel.
“I do,” he says, his voice restrained, choked. He bites off the last syllable as if it’s physically painful for him to speak.
That’s all the permission I need. I lean forward, my hands finding his lean hips to steady myself.
Tentatively, my lips brush against the soft terry cloth.
I feel him shudder under my touch. Emboldened, I use my mouth to tug at the knot until the towel falls away, pooling around his feet on the floor.
And then he’s there. Revealed. He’s even more beautiful than I imagined. Thick and long, with a faint network of veins mapping the thick shaft.
I’ve never done this before. I have never, in my most private fantasies, even considered this in detail. Except maybe once. For a split second. On my knees in the library.
I let my tongue dart out, a timid, curious lick along the side. He tastes of soap and a clean, masculine saltiness.
He hisses through his teeth, a sharp intake of breath, and his hands come to rest on my head, his fingers threading into my damp hair. He isn’t pushing, just holding. Anchoring himself.
I try to caress the entire length with my tongue, my movements clumsy and inexperienced. I’m ashamed to look up, certain I’m doing a terrible job. Then I remember what I’m here for. I take a breath, open my mouth as wide as I can, and take the heavy, smooth head of his cock inside.
He groans, a guttural sound of pleasure. His hips give a slight, involuntary jerk.
I hold onto his hips, using them for leverage as I begin to suck, trying to create a vacuum, trying to mimic something I’ve only read about. The process is all-consuming. I focus on his intermittent breaths, on the way his fingers tighten and relax in my hair. That’s my only guide.
His thumb detaches from my hair and comes to rest on my cheek.
He gently presses inward, forcing my cheek against the rigid shaft of his cock, letting him feel the shape of his own head through the skin of my face.
The intimate, controlling gesture sends a thrill of excitement right to my core.
It’s not enough.
I let his cock slip from my mouth, a wet, sloppy sound in the quiet room. Without looking up, my gaze fixed on the sharp V of his hips, I whisper, “It would be better… if you did it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean…” My face is on fire. “You can go deeper. If you do it yourself. You can… you can fuck my mouth. If you want.”
“Look at me,” he commands, his voice a rough whisper.
I force my gaze upward, my eyes locking with his. I can see them now, in the faint light. Ice-blue, dilated with lust, a storm of emotion swirling in their depths.
“Good boy,” he praises.
He keeps his eyes on mine as he takes my head in both hands and slowly fills my mouth with his cock.
The feeling of him sliding past my teeth, pressing against the back of my throat, is an intense, gag-inducing pressure that is also unbelievably hot.
He begins to move. A slow thrust in, a slow pull out. Every time he slides back into my throat, he speaks.
“You’re doing so good… so perfect for me.” Thrust.
“Look how you take me… all of me.” Thrust.
“My good boy.” Thrust.
“Only I’m allowed to use this pretty mouth.” Thrust.
Small moans begin to escape me.
His thumb strokes my chin, catching the saliva that drips from the corner of my mouth. Then he pulls out abruptly.
My first thought is that it’s over, but he just strokes my face with his slick length, painting my cheek. He’s going to come. My plan—whatever it was—is about to succeed. I need to distract him more.
I lunge forward, taking all of him back into my mouth in one quick motion, and I suck. Hard. I abandon all pretense of skill and just go for broke, my head bobbing, my throat working, my hands gripping his thighs.
His breath turns into a harsh, ragged panting. “Easton… fuck… I’m gonna—” he grits out. “Losing control…”
I don’t let him pull out. I hold him there, sucking for all I’m worth, until I feel his hips buck once, twice, and his body goes rigid. His hand fists uncontrollably in my hair, holding my head in place as he floods the back of my throat with his release.
I did it. I made him come. I—
To my absolute shock, when I finally let him go, gasping and coughing, he’s still just as hard.
If anything, he looks even more ravenous than before. My plan. It failed. Spectacularly.
He pushes me back onto the bed with a low growl.
He follows me down, spreading my legs with his knees, and settles between them.
“Keep being shy for me, Beeler,” he says, his voice thick.
“It drives me fucking insane.” He leans down, his lips brushing mine.
“I’ll be your first,” he promises. “And I’ll be your last.”
He reaches for the lube. He’s efficient, his touch sure as he slicks my hole, his own thick cock. He lines himself up, the blunt head of his cock pressing against me, a hot, demanding pressure that promises pain and pleasure in equal measure.
Then he lowers himself all the way down, his torso covering mine, and puts his hands on the mattress on either side of my head, caging me in completely. Our faces are inches apart.
He begins to push. Slowly. Persistently. It’s a stretching, burning sensation. I gasp, my back arching off the bed. “Zane—”
“Shh, I’ve got you,” he soothes, and continues the slow invasion. I am being stretched, filled, claimed from the inside out.
When he’s finally, fully seated inside me, we both lie still for a moment, breathing each other’s air.
Then he whispers, his lips moving against mine, “You belong to me now. You feel this? You’re mine. And I’m never letting you go. I’m going to keep you in this bed and make sure you only ever come on my cock.”
He starts to move, and it’s masterful. He knows exactly how to angle his hips, how to hit a spot deep inside me that lights up my entire nervous system.
I helplessly moan as he fucks me, a deep, mind-altering pleasure coiling tight in my belly.
I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. He drives into me, and I cry out as I suddenly come, my orgasm a shocking explosion that washes over me right on his cock.
“Zane, please, don’t stop,” I pant, my voice wrecked. “Keep going.”
He leans down, his voice a dark, triumphant whisper against my ear. “Whatever you want. Just to see that look on your face… I burned bridges, destroyed half my team for a chance to have this. And I’d do it again. Every single time.”
He starts fucking me wildly, furiously, each thrust a claiming, and in the middle of the beautiful chaos, I pull his head down and kiss him.
“I’ve liked you for a long time,” I whisper against his lips, the confession ripped from the deepest, most terrified part of me. “I was just scared.”
A tormented sound escapes him. “Fuck, baby, don’t say that.
I’m right on the edge, you broke whatever restraint I had left.
And I don’t want to scare you away.” He thrusts deeper, harder.
“But you should know I won’t let you run anymore.
Not after this. You’re mine. You’re only mine,” he repeats, the words a menacing mantra as he pounds into me.
He comes with a guttural roar, biting down on the juncture of my neck and shoulder just hard enough to leave a deep, possessive mark.
Later, tangled together in his sheets, I feel myself drifting off, safe for the first time all night. “I didn’t want those bastards to hurt you,” I mumble into his chest.
His arms tighten around me. “You’re too kind-hearted, Easton,” he replies quietly.
“And I’m just as much of a bastard as they are.
” He sighs, a heavy sound. “Half of them turned on me because they sensed a weakness. Because Nero wanted power. I got distracted… by you. I became aware of their plans too late, and I couldn’t hide my obsession anymore.
I stopped trying.” He strokes my hair. “Stalking you… it was because I couldn’t stay away, but it was also a way to send you messages.
A fucked-up way to try and protect you from what I knew they were planning for the Hunt.
” He pauses. “But don’t worry. You can stay kind and na?ve, just like you are now.
You’ve got a boyfriend now—and I’ll be mean and fucked-up enough for both of us. ”
I prop myself up slightly on an elbow and look at him. He looks back, his breath held, his ice-blue eyes open and eagerly examining my face like he’s been waiting his whole life for this moment.
“I ate the chocolate you sent me. Didn’t even hesitate,” I say, my voice a little shaky. “Th-thank you.” I take a breath, looking at him. “And you said you don’t want to scare me… but sometimes, I think… you can. Just a little.” I give him a small, daring smile. “But only sometimes.”
He raises an eyebrow, a slow grin spreading across his face. In one sharp, unexpected movement, he flips me onto my stomach and leans over me, caging me beneath his body once more.
“How about right now?” he whispers, his voice dropping into a low purr that reverberates through me.
“Today is All Hallows’ Eve, after all. I want to brand you.
Your sweet, innocent skin.” He lowers his head, his lips grazing the small of my back.
“Where would you like my teeth marks, my brave little bee?”