CHAPTER FOURTEEN
WELLS
S he’s fucking perfect.
Worth every agonizing second I waited.
And here, naked in my bed—innocent sapphire eyes glued to mine, nails digging into my hands as I restrain myself and push into her tight, warm cunt at a snail’s pace, thrusting past a bit of resistance—she’s my ultimate reward.
And I don’t give a fuck that I don’t deserve her.
She’s absolutely exquisite and completely mine.
Better than any fantasy I’ve ever had of her.
She’s also not breathing.
“Breathe, Ives.”
She nods, sucks in a sharp breath, and holds it, chewing her lip.
I still, my muscles tensing. “Talk to me, Little Storm. I’m in. Are you okay?”
She swallows but says nothing.
“Ivanna,” I warn.
“Sorry,” she whispers, and a smile crawls up her cheeks while she bats her long, dark lashes at me. “Did you think you broke me with your big dick, Mr. Wells?” She giggles, those innocent eyes creased with snark and mischief.
I bite her shoulder and start to move inside her, drawing out the sexiest little whimper. “You’re such a brat, Mrs. Wells. What am I going to do with you?”
“So we’re clear, you are really big, and it burns. My insides are on fire, but … I like it. I guess that means you can try to fuck the brat out of me. Isn’t that what you …” She trails off with a pant, losing herself to the moment, eyes growing heavy but still on me, as I ordered.
“I have plenty of ideas of how to fuck the brat out of you, Ivy, but not tonight.” I kneel, hoisting her ass up with the inside of my thighs for a better view and deeper seat. She gasps at the change of angle but moans as soon as my thumb circles her clit.
Fuck, she’s gorgeous like this. Perky tits bouncing, thrill and hunger passing through her ocean blues. Brave, ardent, and vulnerable in a way no one else has ever seen.
Mine.
I’ve never cared much about taking virginity, but I’m desperate for this woman. Owning this experience with her is an irrefutable carnal awakening.
“Why?” she purrs as I push into her harder. “Why not tonight? Gotta work up your courage, huh, Chief?”
The sound of that title on her tongue, sass or not, is unleashing something feral in me. As is that smirk on her lips, like she’s drunk on the pain and pleasure.
I smile, arching a brow and pausing my thumb. “Let’s see your courage. What part of you is on fire, Ivanna?”
She rolls her lips in, cheeks flushing. I’m buried to the hilt inside her, both of us bathing in the blood of her innocence, and she’s embarrassed by a word.
A whimper falls from her lips, aching for the friction because she was already growing close to her climax, which is good because it’s been too long for me and I won’t last much longer.
I’ve been edging myself in preparation for this, but she’s so goddamn wet and warm and tight.
“My pussy,” she whispers.
“Good girl.” I smack her breast, testing, and her dazed eyes brighten. “Is that what you wanted? A little pain? Want me to fuck your sweet cunt rough?” I ask as I resume my massage on her clit.
Nodding, she pants, “More. Please. I’m so close. ”
Jesus, the things I want to do to her.
With another pump up to the hilt, I praise her, “You’re doing so good, so beautiful, taking every inch of me.”
She whines—the most erotic sound I’ve ever heard. “I think I’m going to …”
I continue my even thrusting, doing my best to pace myself. “What, Little Storm? You’re going to what?”
Her eyes crinkle, bashful yet fearless—accepting the challenge I already know she has in her. “Come,” she rasps. “I’m gonna come.”
“There you go. Come on my cock like a good girl.” I smack the side of her other breast to send her over the precipice, and she arches her back, pushing against me and quaking with a scream. My hand shoots to her mouth, smothering her cries; I’m unwilling to share her noises with anyone.
“Wells!” she wails into my palm, hazy sapphires locked on mine while she comes apart. Her walls clench my cock as her every muscle contracts. Body trembling, her skin glistens with a layer of sweat, and her limbs fall weak.
The most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.
It’s too much for me. I scoop her into my arms, pumping into her, less gentle than I should be, as I chase my own release. “I knew you’d feel like this—made for me. You’re so fucking perfect, Ivy. My brat, my storm, my good girl.”
She burrows her face into my neck as I hold her, shaking as I come, and eventually, I fall onto my back, still deep inside her, her fiery strands fanned across my chest. I tighten my arms around her, fully aware of the precious gift I’m holding.
Unable to grasp that she’s even real. I’ve dreamed of this for so long.
And fear crashes into me, mowing me down with a greater force than it did the night I knew my whole family was dying, miles away from me. Helpless.
Christ, I can’t lose her.
But I also don’t want to miss these moments with her because I’m tied in knots .
I drink in a shaky breath and rake my fingers through her hair, kissing her forehead. “Let’s go get cleaned up.”
“Okay.” She lifts her head, eyes skating over my face, knuckles grazing the stubble on my jaw. “I knew you’d feel like that too. Perfect for me.”
Her lips meet mine, and I deepen the kiss, sitting up, curling her legs around my waist, and walking us to the shower. Savoring her with every step.
The stone walls run the length of my bathroom, about fifteen feet. There’s a large rain head in the middle and several other nozzles on the sides. I flip them on, wait for the hot water, and set Ivy beneath the rain sprayer.
She takes us both in, painted in a mixture of cum and blood, along with the crimson flowing down the drain, and gasps. “Oh God. I’m so sorry. Your sheets—”
I clutch her chin. “No. Don’t apologize. We were on the comforter. It won’t stain because it’s black, and I have a spare. Everything was perfect. You are perfect.”
Pumping some soap into my hand, I lather her up, scrubbing away the markings of all she entrusted to me.
The savage beast inside me silently rebuffs the gesture, yearning to brand every inch of her as mine.
In time. I continue over the rest of her, and before I can move to myself, she takes over doing the same for me.
Wiping me clean—my thighs and balls first—smiling when my still-half-mast cock twitches in her hand.
“This is good. Us. Right?” Her eyes gleam with hope, her chest frozen in place. She needs reassurance. I’m sure her emotions are all over the place right now.
“So good,” I promise her, rubbing shampoo into her hair as she continues soaping my chest and abs. “I’ll get your things moved into this room, but tonight, you’ll have to smell like me.”
“I love the way you smell.” She grins, relief flooding her features.
“Will you tell me about your tattoos?” Her palms skim the ones curling over my shoulders.
A griffin on one, the skeleton of a tree frog on the other.
As the pads of her fingers snag on the raised scar tissue those tattoos cover, she swallows, probing me with questions she doesn’t voice.
Spinning her so she’s facing away from me and no longer directly under the rain head, I tilt her chin up, pushing the bubbles down her back. I’m enjoying the view far too much to share tonight. “Those are from a past life, better saved for a future conversation,” I say with a pat on her ass.
She peers over her shoulder at me, her lips sloping downward into a contemplative frown. “What about the sword in the stone? Past life too?”
“No. That’s for this one.” I add a dollop of conditioner to her hair. “It’s a reminder that we all have a purpose inside us, something we’re meant for.”
“I love that,” she sings, the awe in her voice rising with the steam. “Found yours?”
My fingers comb through her hair, untangling it before dusting over the channel of her spine to the dip below her dainty ribs, pointed hip bones, round ass. Ravishing.
“I have.” That may be true, but unease swarms in my bones. The realization of how different the perspective of our beginning will be is making me dizzy. This experience might feel tainted when she discovers who I am.
“Wow,” she muses, and the echo of it crashes into me. “That must be relieving, enlightening. Know how to accomplish taking your sword?”
Yep. She’s standing right in front of me.
Fuck.
I pull her back into my chest, coiling my arms around her. “Sometimes, there are several paths to the same destination.”
I’m not sure how that applies here, but I’ll find the right one for us, Little Storm.
She twists in my arms until she’s facing me, chin lifted.
“I have no idea what mine is. My purpose or sword. My father told me he had something exciting planned for me after I graduated, but … six weeks before, he had the stroke. My mother didn’t know his plans, and I’ve felt a little lost since.
” Her lip trembles with that admission, but she fights it, searching me with her watery blues.
“But I’m happy to be a passenger on your purpose until I find my own. ”
“You’re no one’s passenger, Ivy. You’re the destination.”
She blows out a breath and drops her head, so I shut off the water, wrap her in a fluffy towel, and move us into the open area of the bathroom.
As I’m drying her off, I catch her wistful eyes in the mirror. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” She notes my narrowed gaze and continues before I have a chance to warn, “Our night has been so wonderful, Wells. I don’t want to be too much of a girl right now—that’s all.”
Cupping her pussy and pinching her nipple beneath the towel, I smirk. “I can assure you, I’m very happy with how much of a girl you are.”
“Cute.” She slants her head, still eyeing me in the reflection, and sticks her tongue out.
My eyebrows dart up. “I honestly don’t know the last time someone’s done that to me. Refreshing. Now, tell me what you were thinking that makes you too much of a girl.”