CHAPTER 52 #2
Her nails rake down my skin, red marks appear and blood is already welling up from it.
I smile fully.
“Come on, come all over my cock, soak me, show me sweetheart.” I command, my voice a dark, ragged growl “I want to fucking feel it!”
She screams—a raw, unfiltered scream torn from the very depth of her.
Her body convulses around me, her inner walls clamping down in violent, rhythmic pulses that milk my cock with an intensity that borders on painful.
It’s the final trigger, I can’t hold it anymore.
My own control, held by a fucking fraying thread snap completely.
“Fuck!” I curse followed by a roar ripping my throat out as I bury myself to the hilt one last time and let go.
Hot, thick pulses of my cum floods her cunt, joining the aftershocks of her own orgasm.
I grind against her, riding out the waves, my body trembling with the force of it.
My forehead drops to her sweat-slicked shoulder as she collapse forward.
My grip on her throat ease before I slide my hand to the back of her head, tangling my fingers in her long straight black hair.
I need to catch my breath.
For a long moment, there is only the sound of our harsh, panting breaths.
The air in the car is thick, heavy with the scent of sex and sweat. The windows are completely fogged up.
Slowly, using my grip in her hair, I pull her back enough to look at her, my movement sluggish with spent energy.
Her eyes are glazed, her body completely limp and trembling on my lap, marked and filled by me.
By me.
A deep, primal and possessive satisfaction settles in my bones.
“Not so cocky now, huh?” I tease her.
“Sh-Shut your mouth,” she whispers.
I chuckle.
She still has a mouth on her, even if she's barely able to move on her own.
That's crazy.
With a final pat on her hip, I help her shift off me and back into the passenger seat.
I tuck myself away and zip up, my movements practical, already moving on.
I reach over, my hands rough but not unkind, not violent, and push her hair back from her damp forehead.
“Clean yourself up.” I pause. “Or do you want me to do it? I don't mind tasting myself between your legs.”
I wink.
I don’t wait for an answer, I get out, close the door and walk to her side, open the door, slide my hand under her knees and her back and lift her out of the car.
I turn and shut the door behind me with my foot and walk to the elevator.
“Don’t worry, I won’t wreck you again.” I look down at her “Unless you’re asking for it.”
Steam curled lazily around the room, softening the sharp edges of the silence between us.
My troublemaker sits between my legs, her back against my chest, quieter than I've ever seen her.
There's no fight left in her voice. No sharp remark waiting on the tip of her tongue.
Just the steady rise and fall of her breathing.
I reach for the bottle of shampoo on the ledge and work a small amount between my palms.
“Tilt your head back.” I order.
She does.
That shouldn't please me as much as it does but her obeying without opening her mouth or hitting me feels nice.
My fingers disappear into her hair, slow and deliberate, working the lather from her hairline to the nape of her neck.
Her hair is silk—softer than it has any right to be.
I shake my head slowly in disbelief.
I fuck her until she can’t walk and now, I’m taking a bath and washing her hair.
Fucking unbelievable.
I can’t even believe myself right now. How in the hell did she get me wrapped around her finger?
Fucking hate, it.
Fucking love it.
But there is no way I’m admitting it to her, or to anyone ever.
I massage her scalp with my thumbs, she lets out the faintest sigh.
“Comfortable?” I ask.
“Don't ruin it by talking.”
There she is.
I huff a quiet chuckle and continue my work.
White foam clings to the dark strands before I gather them together and let the warm water rinse everything clean.
My shampoo carries cedar and pink pepper scent.
By tomorrow, her hair will smell like me, and every man will know she belongs to me.
The thought settles somewhere deep in my chest, and a possessive feeling flares through me.
I let my fingers sink through the ends to make sure I've rinsed everything out.
“You missed a spot.” she murmurs without opening her eyes.
“Did I?”
“Mm.” She hums softly.
Maybe she's right, or maybe she just wants to piss me off.
Maybe she just wants me to keep touching her.
Knowing her, the pissing me off option is the more likely one.
Brat.
Steam drifts between us, blurring the mirror.
“You're lucky I'm bored.” I shift slightly to get more comfortable and stretch my legs out. “Otherwise, you'd be washing your hair like a grown-ass woman. You’re just being a spoiled one right now.”
“You can be a softie when you want to be.” she says softly.
My hands are still for a heartbeat.
A what? A softie? The fuck I am.
I’m just washing her hair after I fucked her senseless.
“Don't get used to it.” I lean closer to her and bite her ear.
She gasps at the sudden sharp pain and punches my thigh.
“Asshole!” She shouts.
“And?” I chuckle darkly before burying my face in her hair.
I wrap my arms around her chest, one hand resting just beneath the swell of her breast, rubbing slow circles, the other lying open against the upper curve.
“Wasn't planning to get used to you, freak.” She straightens herself to stretch before slumping back against me “Don’t get used to me being calm, I’m just gathering my force to beat your ass up.”
I roll my eyes.
“Yeah,” I pause my voice dropping sarcastic. “I’m sure you will and can.”
I pull back to let my head falls back against the edge when I catch her back tattoo.
I didn’t give a shit before, still don’t—but it’s a part of her and I can’t help myself look.
A massive symmetrical black-ink tattoo spreads across her back like living veins beneath skin.
At the center runs a sharp gothic structure resembling a ceremonial dagger aligned with her spine. Thin star-like details punctuate the center while black organic branches spread outward across her shoulders and ribs.
Sexy, powerful, and it definitely suits her.
The silence stretches between us for a few minutes as I drink in the details of her back, learning them, mapping every fucking line without even realizing it.
“Evren.” She suddenly breaks the silence, not harshly.
“The fuck you want now?” I grimace “Want me to give you a foot massage? In your dreams.”
“One day, you will and you’ll be on your knees.”
I burst out laughing, the fucking audacity of her to think, I will kneel before her like some yearning, romantic fucker.
I’m not like this, never will be.
“Like I said,” My laugh subsides into a dangerous and low chuckle “In your dreams—or you suck me before, and maybe I will think of it.”
“Disgusting psycho.” She spits.
I purr in her ear in agreement.
My perfect troublemaker, mine and only mine.