Chapter Twenty #2
He was getting me closer than I had any right to be after already fucking him twice, my breathing breaking down further as I leaned into him, chasing his mouth—
Then he was gone.
My body surged back before I could stop it, a sharp inhale tearing from me as I reached for what he’d taken away. Ethan laughed softly, slapped my ass, and rose to his feet, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me back against him until my breathing began to even out.
“Let’s go back to bed.”
I turned the water off and let him pull me with him. We dried off quickly, moving around each other in the small space without speaking. I stepped into the bedroom ahead of him, wrapping the towel around my waist before sitting on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under my weight.
Ethan stayed in the doorway for a moment, a towel slung low on his hips, arms crossed loosely over his chest, head tilted as he watched me. The look in his eyes made my pulse kick harder.
“What are you thinking?”
A slow smile curved his mouth. “That we need to have a conversation about consent.”
I lifted a brow.
He pushed off the doorframe and took a few slow steps into the room. “I need to know where you draw the line.”
My chest tightened as I drew in a breath. “There are no lines with you.”
He stopped a few feet away, gaze steady. “We need to be clear.”
“I am being clear,” I said, reaching for his hips when he moved within reach, my hands settling on his skin. “We can do whatever you want.”
Ethan looked down at me, something measured passing through his expression before he leaned closer, voice low near my ear. “What if what I want is to fuck you?”
The reaction in my body was immediate, a collision of resistance and surrender that left my breath stalling.
“Not just that,” he continued, “I want you to let me do whatever I want to you.” His voice dropped, softer now, more controlled. “Let me take the reins.” His gaze flicked to my mouth. “Let me take care of you.”
The words landed deep, settling somewhere beneath thought. My body reacted before I could shape a careful answer, heat spreading as my shoulders loosened despite myself. I stayed right there with him. “You can do whatever you want.”
Ethan didn’t move. “Is that what you want?” he asked quietly, studying my face. “For me to take what’s mine?”
Fuck.
I nodded. A sharp thrill raced through me at the thought of letting go. Of finally being allowed to stop.
“I know you’re not used to it, Ash,” he said. “I know you like being in control.”
A small smile tugged at my mouth. “Can’t it be both?”
Ethan’s lips curved once more, recognizing the words he’d once said to me. “If I do anything that feels wrong, you tell me to stop.”
“You won’t—”
“Promise me.” His tone sharpened just enough to cut through me. “If you don’t, I won’t know if you like it. And I need to know.”
My chest eased at that, and I let out a slow breath. “I promise.”
He held my gaze another beat, making sure. Then he straightened, the decision settling into his posture. His hands dropped away from me, the sudden absence loud in the quiet room.
“Okay.” He nodded toward the bed. “Move back.”
I did, sitting against the headboard, my pulse thudding in my ears. I focused on that rhythm, on him, on keeping the doubt from pressing in as I let myself give over to what he was asking for.
He walked around the bed until he stood directly in front of me. “Lower. Lie down.”
I obeyed, sliding down until my back met the pillows. Ethan’s eyes never left me. He let the seconds stretch—
One.
Two.
Three.
—before finally reaching for his towel and pulling it free.
He climbed onto the bed and stood there for a moment, looking down at me like he was taking stock.
When his feet settled on either side of my waist, he crouched, forearms braced on his thighs, filling my field of vision.
My chest rose and fell too fast for someone just lying there, doing nothing at all.
Then he reached out.
One hand slid over my chest, slow and possessive. The other curled into my hair at the back of my head and tugged, just enough to hold me in place. “Who do you belong to?”
Heat flared under my skin. “You.”
He shook his head once, unhurried, his palm resting over my throat. Not squeezing—just there. “My name. Who do you belong to?”
“To you,” I said. “Ethan Bennett. Just you.”
He tilted his head, watching me like he was listening for something beneath the words. My body buzzed under his touch, the warmth of his hand seeping into my skin.
His thumb brushed my jaw. “Open.”
The command went straight to my groin, my cock throbbing with anticipation. I let my mouth fall open, breath shallow and waiting.
“Tongue out.”
I followed the order, eyes locked on his as he leaned in, working his tongue in his mouth before letting his spit fall on my own, heat flooding my mouth.
Fuck. Me.
“Swallow.”
I did. Eagerly.
His mouth curved slightly as he watched me, satisfaction flickering there before he leaned close, voice rough against my ear. “Good boy.”
My breath caught in my chest, but a second later he was kissing me—hot and claiming—his hand still firm at my throat as he pushed his tongue into my mouth, tasting himself, holding me exactly where he wanted me.
His fingers hooked into the towel at my waist and gave a sharp tug, the fabric coming off in one impatient pull.
Ethan’s body settled back over mine, and my hands lifted instinctively, reaching for him anywhere I could just to feel him closer.
He broke away, keeping me pinned with his grip on my neck. “Hands up. On the headboard.”
My hands flew up, palms flattening against the wood, and he dove back in, kissing me hungrily.
Then he started his descent—rough, not slow in the slightest—and the heat of each kiss felt like magma, like he was igniting something inside me that wanted to claw its way out, ravaging everything in its path.
His mouth closed over my cock, taking it deep without warning, and my neck arched back as a loud moan ripped out of me. He held one hand out, and without a word, I reached for the lube and slapped it into his palm.
He never eased, working between my cock and my balls with unbroken focus—tongue, lips, pressure—drawing me tighter with every pass.
My hands stayed locked against the headboard as I forced myself to keep them there.
The act of not holding him—of surrendering my pleasure to him—had me coiled to the point of breaking.
I felt his slick fingers slide over my balls, then lower, circling me the same way I’d done to him earlier, as if he’d been taking fucking notes and giving them back to me.
His mouth returned to my cock, pulling me deep enough that my hips jerked against the bed, my brain barely registering the moment my body loosened and the tip of his finger pressed inside me.
Then the sensation sparked hot, a clean, electric jolt that made my breath stutter. As he pushed deeper, my muscles gave way in small, unguarded increments, the intensity cresting in a way that felt overwhelming and right all at once.
He pulled his mouth free with a soft pop, eyes flicking from my cock to where his finger was inside me. “You’re so fucking tight.”
“Fuck—” The word left me ragged as heat raced up my chest and into my throat, but he didn’t pause long enough for me to catch a breath or process what he’d said. Before his mouth returned, he withdrew just enough to add another finger.
The stretch, the steady push and pull, was unlike anything I’d felt before.
My eyes kept slipping closed as my hips moved without permission.
When he added a third, whatever tension I’d been holding on to finally broke, my body responding as a whole, nerves lighting up until everything else fell away, with just one thought looping over and over.
Don’t move your hands.
Don’t move your hands.
Don’t move your hands.
Ethan moved away from my cock, flushed and breathing hard, and reached for the nightstand.
He tore open a foil packet and rolled the condom on, then he reached for the lube.
His hand slid between his legs, his eyes closing briefly, breath catching as he stroked himself before leaning forward again.
One hand pressed into the back of my thigh, guiding it higher as he moved in, his cock settling against me, firm and waiting.
I closed my eyes and nodded.
Ethan wrapped his hand around my cock, still slick with lube, stroking once as pressure built, before I bore down and my body yielded, letting him slide inside.
He didn’t stop. Didn’t need to. Whether it was because he’d fingered me into oblivion or we’d just been at this for too long, my body gave in easily, and he kept going until he was fully sheathed inside me.
Ethan was panting, his free hand rubbing the back of my thigh in a soothing motion while the other kept stroking lazily. His lips were parted and glistening, his eyes burning into mine. “Okay?”
Somewhere in the haze it registered—this felt good. So fucking good. “Yes.”
He sucked in a deep breath, pulled his hips back, dragging his cock out, then thrust in hard.
“Fuck!” My back arched as he kept the pace, working my cock in the same rhythm, my body lighting up every time he pushed deeper. The burn and stretch—the thought of him stroking himself inside me—sent me spiraling, my body begging for more.
Ethan stopped, adjusted his weight on his knees, and started again. The angle changed—it hit deeper—and my hand flew up without thinking.
“Don’t,” he rasped. “I’ll get you there. Don’t fucking move.”
My palm pressed back against the headboard, my shoulder already feeling the strain of holding the position—and that burn only wound me tighter, my body finally understanding that staying still for him was its own kind of pleasure.
His hips thrust hard into me, the slap of his skin against mine overwhelming my senses.
“You feel so fucking good.” His voice was huskier than I’d ever heard it, and it pushed me toward the edge fast.
I squeezed my eyes shut. “Keep talking,” I begged.
“I’m about to c-come—fuck.” He was breathing hard, the tremor in his voice confirming his words. “I want to see you come all over yourself. Feel you clench around me and suck my cum out.”
Jesus—
My legs trembled as I forced myself to stay still, and almost as if he could read my mind, he curled his hand under my thigh and pulled it up over his hips, lifting onto his knees and fucking even harder into me.
The change stole the breath from my lungs, the pressure building until it felt like I was being pulled apart from the inside.
His skin was fever-hot against mine—the weight of him pressing me into the mattress had my balls drawing up tight, the edge crashing closer with every thrust.
Our eyes locked.
“Come for me,” he said.
There was no willpower left in me to resist. No reason to try.
I groaned loudly as he dragged my orgasm out of me, the release crashing through my body in ragged waves, spilling over my stomach as his hand slowed but didn’t stop, stroking me through it.
I couldn’t look away from him. His mouth was open, breath coming hard as his gaze tracked the mess I was making, the way my body shook beneath him.
He thrust a few more times, deep, and moaned my name as he came inside me, his head tipping back, eyes rolling shut.
The aftershocks hit hard. My whole body shuddered, oversensitive and loose all at once, his cock still pressed deep inside me, stretching the pleasure out longer than it should have.
I couldn’t move. I didn’t want to. Everything felt big and loud, like my nerves hadn’t caught up with what had just happened.
He finally let go of my cock and braced his hands on the bed, hovering for a second before lowering himself to press slow kisses over my chest.
I let my arms fall, easing the burn in my shoulders as I did.
I reached for him, brushing his still-damp hair back, needing to touch him, to make sure he was still right there.
Ethan smirked, breathless, leaning into my hand as he steadied himself.
He pulled out carefully and dropped beside me, close enough that I could still feel the heat of him along my side.
I stared at the ceiling, my thoughts slow and scattered as my brain tried to reboot after being knocked sideways. My eyes a little too wide, my mouth still open as I dragged a hand through my hair. “That was… that was…”
Ethan laughed softly beside me, still catching his breath as he tied the condom off. “You liked that.”
I turned my head toward him, taking in the smug curve of his mouth, the satisfaction he wasn’t even trying to hide.
“A lot,” he added.
A laugh slipped out of me too, shaky and overwhelmed in the best way. “I did.”
He rolled onto his side, and I followed immediately, drawn to him.
Up close, he looked unreal—half-lidded blue eyes, flushed cheeks, lips still red.
Beautiful in a way that hurt a little to look at.
His tongue swept over his lower lip as he studied me, that familiar intensity still there.
When he looked at me like that, it felt like the world tipped, like everything else slid out of focus.
One hand came up to cup my face, holding me there, close enough that I could feel his breath against my skin. “You’re mine, Sebastian.”
Warmth spread through my chest, my lips curving into a slow smile.
He pulled me closer, pressing our foreheads together, his grip firm—almost desperate. “I’m not doing this halfway,” he said. “Not again.”
I kissed him without hesitation, relief rushing through me at his words. He really hadn’t let go. He wasn’t walking away. “I’m yours.”
His arms locked around me at that, like he’d been waiting to hear it just to breathe again, and our bodies fit together as if they’d never been apart.
My lips brushed his temple as I closed my eyes.
“I’m yours.”