25. London
Chapter 25
London
A fter the very dysfunctional yet entertaining family meal with Archer's siblings, Archer has busied himself on his computer, and has left the apartment a few times, being cryptic in his reasoning for leaving, something no doubt to do with our date tonight.
It's cute to watch him get nervous, and under any other circumstances, I would dive pussy-first right into him, but I can't get past the truth—that I'm the reason the love of his life is dead.
I want to tell him, I really do, I just can't. Not when so many things are uncertain, and I don't have another place to live yet. I can't imagine he'll want me to stay, or even remain in his life at all. I wouldn't.
I shouldn't have given in when he asked me on a date, but Archer is persistent, and a week of him asking me out finally wore me down, along with the speech he gave me earlier. It made me feel things I've never felt, and I hate myself for not being able to control my desires.
I like Archer. He's sexy, intelligent, protective, and incredibly entertaining to annoy. He's loyal to his family, and despite them not being able to get through a meal without fighting, I admire what they share. I've never known what family meant, not when my sperm donor did nothing but torture me my entire life, starting with killing my mom. I've never really had close friends, either. It was dangerous, not just for them, but for me, too. My dad hated anyone and everyone, trusted no one, and destroyed every good thing that came near me, because by extension, it could hurt him in some way. He was paranoid, and that paranoia consumed all the good things.
Even in death, I hate him endlessly.
But what worries me more is that someday I might turn out just like him.
I stare in the mirror, applying one final layer of lipstick, and pinch my cheeks for some color. Butterflies stir in my stomach, a strange nervousness consuming me unexpectedly. I live with Archer, and I've spent every day for over a month with him, so why am I anxious all of a sudden?
A soft knock thuds against the door to Archer's bedroom, the same room I've spent all but one night in since I arrived here. Archer has made a home on the couch even though his bed is plenty big enough for us to share. For being a hardened criminal, he sure is a gentleman.
I stand from the vanity Archer had built for me a week ago and smooth out the dress I'm wearing. It's a little black thing I picked up a couple of days back, not knowing where I'd wear it, but once Archer asked me out, I knew exactly why it called to me. The top half is a corset style with beautiful lace, and the bottom is a short, tightly fitted mix of spandex and nylon. It hugs all my curves and is surprisingly comfortable, which is hard to find in women's clothing.
Walking to the door, I swallow down my nerves and hope I don't puke on him when I open the door. I'm not one to get worked up over a date, or a man, and yet here I am, my palms sweating. But the second I lay my sights on him, everything settles, and my heart skips a beat.
"Hi," he says, his eyes lit up unlike any other time I've seen him.
"Hi." I take him in, his black slacks, his short-sleeved black button-up, a few of them undone at the top, revealing his tattooed chest. I would jump him right now if I lacked self-control, but unfortunately, I'm a bit more reserved than that. "You clean up nice," I tell him.
"And you look radiant as always." Archer holds out his hand. "Shall we?"
I slip my fingers into his palm, ignoring the heat of our touch and letting him guide me out of the room. I don't bring my purse, or my phone, because tonight is about him, about us, and I don't want any distractions, especially knowing this might be our only time together. I can't let things go past tonight; I have to draw the line there. I'll make up some excuse as to why things can't work and insist we have to go back to being friends, no matter how difficult that may be. If he knew the truth, he'd never want to date me, and since I'm not willing to confess, I must put that boundary in place for both of us.
Archer leads me to the front door, opens it, and motions for me to step out. He places his hand on my lower back and I remind myself to keep my fucking cool. Ever since we hooked up at the restaurant, I haven't been able to get the thought of his hands on my body out of my mind. I want him, all of him, so badly it hurts.
We walk in silence, my heels clicking on the hallway floor, on our way to the elevator. He pushes the button, it dings a long second later, and we step inside, the space around us pulsing with tension.
“What happened to you not trusting elevators?” I ask him.
“It didn’t change, but I’m trying to be romantic, and making you walk up a few flights of stairs isn’t exactly romantic.”
The doors close and I fight the urge to be closer to him than I already am.
"It's taking everything in me not to kiss you right now." He stares forward, his eyes meeting mine in the reflection on the elevator door.
"Why don't you?"
"Because this is our first date. I'm supposed to wait until the end to kiss you."
"Such a rule follower…" I tug my bottom lip into my mouth. "Tell me what you would do."
Archer's jaw tenses before he turns toward me, his hand on my waist as he moves me back, against the wall of the elevator. "First, I'd touch you here." He skims his fingers along my cheek, not quite making contact. Archer leans in close. "I'd pull your body toward me, like this." Swiftly, he tugs me into him, our bodies melting into one another, the desire palpable. "I'd run my nose over yours." He does exactly what he says, his mouth just a breath away from mine. He whispers, our lips almost touching, "And I'd kiss you until you went weak in the knees."
The elevator dings, and neither of us moves as the door opens. Our eyes dart back and forth, daring the other to make the move, to do everything he just said.
But instead, Archer softly kisses my cheek and steps back, air filling the space between us. "Something like that, maybe." He winks at me and I die a little inside at knowing this is temporary, that it can't last. Why does this have to feel like more than a visceral attraction? Why do I want the one man that I can't have? And why does he have to be so fucking hot?
"Yeah, something like that would work." I kick off from where I was leaning and exit the elevator.
Archer takes my hand, my fingers fitting perfectly in his, and escorts me down the hall, to a doorway for stairs. We go up those and are met by a solid door that leads onto the rooftop of his apartment complex.
My eyes go wide as I take in the string lights covering the entire space and the candlelit table with an ice bucket and a bottle in it.
"Archer," I mutter in disbelief at how he could make such a simple request turn out so beautifully.
"Do you like it?" he asks, his hand still in mine, only now he's cupping mine between his other hand, too, like he's afraid I might slip out of his grasp if he doesn't hold on tight.
"Like it?" I glance over at him, my head tilted upward because even with four-inch heels, he's still significantly taller than me. "I love it."
Archer grins and it might just be the best thing I've ever laid my eyes on. "Good. I'm glad." He motions toward the table. "Want to have a seat?"
We walk over and Archer pulls out my chair for me, every action tonight being more chivalrous than the next. It's hard to believe he's a murderer when he's so damn sweet to me.
He leaves me behind to walk over to a table, where a strange metal thing sits on top. He opens the small door and pulls out a pizza box, returning to our table a moment later, and setting it between us. "You asked for pizza, you get pizza." Archer flicks the top open, revealing a steaming cheese pizza from one of the best pizza shops on the entire East Coast. How he managed to get it here while getting all these lights up and everything else, I'll never know.
I'm sure Archer's endless bank account had something to do with it.
"Champagne?" he asks, pulling a bottle of Dom Perignon out of the bucket.
"Wow, you went all out, didn't you?"
"This is nothing. If you're not going to let me take you out and spoil you, I have to make do with what I can."
"I don't need you to spoil me," I tell him honestly. Sure, I may have grown up with money, but I don't expect it from anyone else, especially a guy. I've lived under the thumb of the cruelest man who ever lived, I don't want to ever do that again.
"I know you don't. I want to. There's a difference there, little tornado." Archer winks at me before uncorking the bottle and pouring us both a glass. He settles into the other seat and takes his glass into his hand.
"What are we cheersing?" I ask him, raising my glass, too.
"The beginning of something beautiful," he responds, my heart skipping a beat again. If he keeps this up, I might need to seek medical attention.
We clink our glasses and take a sip, the taste almost like toasted bread with a hint of vanilla, maybe caramel. I've had Dom in the past, but none of them are as rich and complex as this one.
"This is good," I say while setting the glass down. "Really good."
"I'm pleased you approve." Archer grins, reaching for a slice of pizza and setting it on the plate in front of me, then going back for one for himself. "Bon appetit."
"Can you speak French?" I raise an eyebrow at him at having potentially unlocked something about him I didn't already know.
"Oui je peux, petite tornade. Peux-tu?"
I hold out my fingers, pinching them together to signify a small amount. "Pas beaucoup."
"What about… J'ai envie de verser ce champagne sur ton corps et de le lécher, goutte à goutte, jusqu'à en obtenir chaque morceau."
My core tightens at hearing the French roll off his tongue so easily, despite having no idea what he's saying. It's sexy either way. "I got the I want to and champagne , and drop by drop . What else was it?"
"Maybe you should brush up on your French," he teases and takes a bite of his pizza slice. "Good call on the pizza," he mumbles.
"You have to admit, this is better than going out." I eat some of my pizza, too, the cheese melted perfectly and the sauce has the best balance of sweet and garlicky.
A horn blares in the distance, and the lights of the city pollute our view, and still, I'd rather be here, with him.
"I'm not mad about it," Archer says, his intense stare meeting mine. "So tell me, Miss London, what brings you to New York?"
I smile at him. "Is that what we're doing, pretending we don't know each other?"
"We're on a first date, that's a first-date question."
"Mmm." I swallow the bite in my mouth. "Well, I come here for work. You see, I'm a traveling magician. Gigs all over the country. I'm just passing through, really. Won't be here long."
"A magician, ey?"
You have something I could make disappear , I think, my perverted nature getting the best of me.
"Why did your cheeks just flush?" he asks me, seeing right through my facade.
"My mind was in the gutter," I admit.
"Let me guess…" Archer puts his finger to his chin, tapping it before continuing. "Were you thinking about making something disappear?"
My mouth drops open. "No fair. Can you read my mind?"
He laughs and I can't help but laugh too, everything about him contagious. "No, but that's hilarious."
"Are you sure you can't read my mind?" I persist, unsure how he knew with such accuracy.
"I can't. I'm just perceptive, that's all. I pay attention…to you."
"You pay attention to everything." I take another bite of my pizza.
"I do, but I watch you a little closer."
"Tell me something then, what do you see?"
Archer's expression darkens and he readjusts in his seat. "I see a woman who's strong, but afraid. Broken, but whole. Someone who's hiding something, because she's afraid if someone saw her for who she really is, they would leave, because that's what everyone else has done. They've left. Viciously loyal and hopelessly romantic, whether she'd admit it or not. She sees the best in people, even when they don't deserve it. She has her walls up, understandably. Surprisingly optimistic if not a bit cynical. You're a paradox in the best way."
I hate how transparent I am, that he was able to pick up on all of that in a month of living together. I know I'm not exactly a mystery, but I thought I was leaving something to the imagination. Archer got me spot-on with everything, even the things I haven't been willing to admit to myself.
"At the end of the day," he says. "We all want to be seen, to be validated. It's human nature."
I shrug, trying to play it off like he didn't completely call me out. "I mean, you're not completely wrong."
"You're saying I was wrong? About what? I'd love to know." Archer takes a drink of his champagne. "This ought to be good."
"Okay, fine, you weren't wrong. Is that what you want to hear?" I blurt out.
A huge smirk breaks across his handsome face. "Was that so hard?"
"Painful, actually. Don't let it happen again."
"I'm not often wrong."
"And neither am I." My heart sinks at the reminder that what we're doing here, no matter how good it feels, can't last. I should tell him this, go ahead and rip the Band-Aid off. But there's a stronger part of me that wants to see this evening through and pretend like it can last, if even for one night.
"Now that we've established you're a traveling magician who wants to make something disappear, tell me more about yourself."
"Hey now, since when do you get to ask all the questions?"
"Kill a man for loving to hear you talk."
"You wouldn't like it if I started yapping, trust me."
"I'll be the judge of that." Archer eats more of his pizza, waiting for me to continue.
I roll my eyes. "Only child, I think. Knowing my dad, though, I might have a sister or two out there."
"Why not a brother?"
"Because if I had a brother, my father's one goal in life would have been accomplished. He wanted an heir. I didn't count, being a girl and all. We're worthless aside from what we can offer with our bodies."
"That's…that's terrible, London. I hope you don't believe that."
"I mean, considering I heard it nonstop my entire life, it's hard not to think it from time to time." I chew at the inside of my lip, a million thoughts wanting to come out of my mouth. I've never spoken candidly about my father and the true relationship we had. I've mentioned it here and there to the people who know me, but no one really knows what he did to me, what he forced me to endure. It's enough to drive a person mad.
The thought of Seven comes to mind, the way he acts, the carelessness to his actions. If I were wired differently, perhaps that's how I would have become. From the little I've heard about Archer and his siblings, there's no telling the torment that Seven went through. Maybe his actions are justified because of the trauma he's experienced. Maybe it's a cry for help because he doesn't know how to process his emotions otherwise. He's quite unlikable, but it's hard to hate him with everything considered. We might be more alike than we are different, and that alone scares me.
Archer reaches forward, latching his hand onto mine. "Hey." His voice is soft and reassuring. "I think you're the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on, and I am so attracted to you it hurts at times. But I don't care if we never get intimate again, I value you way more than what you can offer me with your body. This isn't transactional, London. Do you understand?"
I nod and will my eyes not to water any more than they already are. "I understand," I say those two words despite struggling to wrap my head around what he's telling me.
This entire date was such a bad idea. The more I get to know him, the more I want him, and not in a temporary way. I can't begin to count how many times our entire life has flashed before my eyes. Us annoying each other every single day, him washing my hair in the sink, me making sure he eats, stealing kisses in the kitchen, walking hand in hand to the grocery store, no longer ignoring the passion and chemistry between us.
He rubs his thumb in a circle on my hand, letting out a breath before releasing me. "If you ever want to talk about it, I'm here to listen. Don't feel obligated. I'm here for you, in whatever capacity you need me to be."
We spend the rest of our dinner talking about lighter subjects—music we like, movies we've seen, places we've traveled. It's strange how many times our paths have crossed and yet we never met until now. I'm sure there would be even more connections if he knew who I truly was, but I'm not ready to cross that bridge yet, so I keep that information to myself, locked away for a time when I'm ready to let him go. I'm not convinced that day will ever come.
I eat two large slices of the pizza and Archer finishes off the rest of it, making sure to offer me the last slice at least eight times before taking it for himself. I sit back, holding the flute of champagne, the bottle almost empty and my body warm from the buzz. I'm nowhere near drunk, but I feel good.
"Oh, I have one," Archer says, snapping his fingers. "Would you rather have no taste or be colorblind?"
"No," I say loudly. "Both of those are terrible. Ugh, I guess be colorblind. What about you?"
"Colorblind for sure, I still want to be able to taste you." He winks at me and it makes me tingle more than the champagne already was.
"Let's take this up a notch…" I tap my finger on the table. "Would you rather give or receive?"
Archer scoffs. "That's easy. Give."
I picture his hands on my thighs, his face buried at my center, his tongue caressing my entrance. "Would you rather sleep with someone on the first date or wait for six months?"
"You skipped me, little tornado. You're bad at this game." Archer licks his lips. "Six months is a long time…"
The implication of his answer hits me in full force, my mind reeling at how far I'm willing to takethings. I've wanted him since the very first frustrating moment I saw him, but I don't want this to go further than anything we can comebackfrom. Sex complicates things, and things are already so fucking complicated between us.
"It is," I say, unsure of what to do next.
"Would you rather always have sex with the lights on or off?" Archer asks me, picking up where I left off.
"Lights on."
"Would you rather have sex in the bathroom or the kitchen?"
"Both?"
"Would you rather have sex in the bedroom?"
"Or what?"
Archer stares at me for a long moment, the wheels in his head turning so much I can practically see them. If only I knew what he was thinking."Tell me what you want, London." His chest rises and falls at a quicker pace.
"What?"
He stands, comes around the table, and leans against it with one tattooed arm. "Tell me what you want ." The last word is almost a growl, my pussy clenching with desire.
"I want you," I whisper. "I want all of you."
"I'll give you anything you want."
"What happened to you not wanting to be intimate? What happened to valuing me more than what my body can offer?"
He looks at me so intensely it’s like he’s staring right into my soul, his eyes hauntingly dark. "I worship you, London. If you say no, I'll drop it right now. You call the shots, not me."
I stand from the table, making him take a step back as I come toward him. "Then take me."
"Are you sure?"
"Are you asking for my consent, Archer Sin?" I smirk, teasing him the same way he did me when I asked for his permission to go down on him.
"I wouldn't have it any other way. I might be a bad man, but I need to hear you say it, little tornado."
I rest my hand on his chest, tilting my head up at him. "I'm sure, Archer. I want you. Please?"
"You don't have to beg, not yet."
"What are you waiting for?" I ask him, being far more assertive than I typically am. But this push-and-pull thing we've had going on for the past month has done nothing but fuel the excessive longing I've had for him.
"I'm not going to fuck you out here." He nods toward the exposed rooftop. "I want you all to myself." In one fluid motion, Archer swoops down and pulls me into his arms.
I wrap my hands around his neck and fight the giant smile that threatens to appear on my face. He can't know how eager I am even more than what's showing.
Ever since I took him into my mouth, I've been fantasizing about what he would feel like stretching me open. I'd be lying if his size didn't scare me and turn me on all at the same time. I've never been with a man as big as Archer and I'm not entirely sure if it's possible. Either way, I can't wait to find out.
Archer leaves the mess we left behind and carries me across the roof, opening the door with ease and kicking it out of his way.
I giggle and bury myself in him to make it easier to carry me down the stairs. "I can walk, you know."
"And I can carry you." Archer pushes the button to the elevator, and it dings a second later, the door opening for us.
"Put me down," I tell him, something stern in my voice.
He complies immediately, setting me inside the empty elevator.
"Now kiss me," I command.
Archer hesitates for only half a second before pressing his lips to mine, the touch both warm and aggressive at the same time. Our tongues meet, something entirely too ravenous about their embrace. He slams me into the wall, with one arm wrapped around my waist and the other pinned above my head. He moans into my mouth and I nearly lose it.
Does he know he has this effect on me?
Our kiss deepens and Archer, with one arm, lifts me into the air. I wrap my legs around him, hooking my feet behind his back, not daring to break from his mouth.
The elevator stops abruptly and the door opens. Panting, we rest our foreheads together as a throat clears.
"Shit," I mutter against him. "Someone's out there." I peek around him to find Camille standing just inside the elevator like she's not sure if she should come in or not.
"I'm interrupting. I can totally take the stairs. Yeah. I'll take the stairs," she blurts out.
"No," I call after her. "Sorry, we—we were just leaving."
Archer turns around so my back is to her, my ass no doubt exposed from the minimal fabric I was wearing to begin with. He keeps one hand down there and I hope it's enough to cover me since I'm not wearing any panties.
"Sorry, Cami," Archer says while stepping around her and out of the elevator. "Have a good, uh, night."
"Oh my God," I mutter, still in Archer's arms. "That was embarrassing. I'm pretty sure my ass is out."
"It's not," he reassures me and goes to his door, unlocking it with one hand and crossing the threshold. He tosses his keys onto the counter with a bit less regard than he usually pays them. Archer is typically uptight and overly tidy, but right now, he doesn't seem to mind. "Where were we?"
I run my hands through his long hair and meet his gaze. "I think you were about to fuck me."
"Such harsh words from such a pretty mouth."
"Yeah?" I lick my lips. "What else do you want from this mouth?"
"I think you know." Archer backs me into the wall, his eyes meeting mine before he crashes into me with his body, his lips.
We kiss, both of us moaning into each other, desperate to be closer, to feel more.
I keep one hand in his hair and drag the other down, tugging at the collar of his button-up. His cock hardens in his pants and I grind against him, wanting, lusting, begging for it. I reach for him, feeling him through the fabric, moving my hand up and down.
He groans and I unbutton his pants to shove my hand inside.
"Fuck me," I whisper against his mouth. "Fuck me right here."
"I don't have a condom."
"I don't care."
"Are you on birth control?"
Each question and answer is said between heated kisses.
"I'll take a morning-after pill. Just fuck me, Archer."
"I need to make you come first."
I break away, looking him dead in the eye. "You said I can have whatever I want, big boy. Now, I said fuck me ."
Archer stares at me for a long second, questioning my demand and finally, giving in. He holds me with one arm, my body still pinned against the wall as he grabs onto his cock, sliding it along my eager entrance. "You're so fucking wet, little tornado. Are you ready for me?"
I nod expectantly, a bit nervous.
"Say it," he growls.
"I'm ready," I pant.
Archer lines himself with my hole, his gaze on mine as he pushes gently into me. "Keep your eyes on me."
I moan loudly when he penetrates and spreads me open, inch by inch until he can't go any farther. "Fuck, you're so big."
"You're taking me so well." He slides out, slowly, and enters me again, repeating this countless times, getting my body familiar with his. "You're so tight, you feel amazing."
I tense around him, my pussy reacting to his praise.
"You like when I tell you you're doing good?" Archer rocks his hips, moving in and out of me a little quicker this time.
I nod and he narrows his eyes at me.
"Yes," I tell him.
He smirks and his cock hardens, filling me even more. "Am I hurting you?"
"No. I like it. I want more."
"More?" He thrusts into me. "Like that?"
"Yeah." I moan, this angle rubbing against my clit, heightening my pleasure. "I'm so close."
Archer drops his face, planting his lips on my neck, kissing and sucking the tender skin. He keeps hold of my waist and lifts me up and down onto his shaft. "Come for me. Come on my cock, little tornado." He fucks me harder, my orgasm nearing with each thrust.
I dig my nails into his hair, squeezing tightly, my entire body tensing as I near the edge. I scream out, my pussy pulsating around him. He fucks me all the way through it, not daring to stop until I loosen my grip on him. Breathlessly, I say, "That was intense."
He plants a brisk kiss on my lips. "That was just the beginning." Still buried inside of me, Archer carries me over to the couch he's slept on for the past month and lowers me onto my back. "I'm going to fuck you in all the places I've imagined fucking you."
I grin at him and shake my head. "How many places?"
"You'll find out." He kisses my lips and slams into me, taking me off guard in the best way. "Is that too hard?"
"Not at all," I breathe into him. "Give me all of you."
Archer lifts my leg, putting it over his shoulder, and pounds into me, my dress ripping from this new position. "I'll buy you a new one, don't worry."
"I wasn't worried." I slide my hands under his shirt and dig my fingers into his back, pulling him closer to me.
Our mouths meet, desperation and desire fueling our kisses.
"You feel so fucking good. This feels like heaven," Archer says into my mouth, and drives his tongue against mine. He brings his hand up my chest, squeezing my boob before putting his fingers around my throat. The pressure is light but divine.
My pussy clenches and my hips rock into him. I place my hand on his, my grip firm, silently giving him approval to tighten his.
"You like it when I put my hand around your throat?" His brown eyes stare into my green ones even though he already knows the answer to that question.
"I like everything you do to me," I tell him.
He slides his hand up my chin, his thumb dragging over my bottom lip. "Open up."
I comply, eagerly waiting for what's to come.
Archer hesitates while still thrusting into me. "Say it."
"Spit in my mouth," I tell him and part my lips.
He smirks and does exactly that, spitting right into my fucking mouth, making all this that much hotter. "You know I respect you, right?"
I narrow my gaze. "Yeah?"
"Because for the next few minutes, it might seem like I don't." He slows his pace, reaching down to grip the base of his shaft. "You need a safe word."
"I don't need a safe word," I say. "There's nothing you can do to me that I won't like."
He stops completely and I ache for him to continue. "Do you want this to keep going?"
"Yes." I sit up on my elbows.
"Then what's your safe word?"
I rack my brain, words failing to come to mind, my only thought how badly I ache for him. "I don't know."
"That's not a good choice, little tornado." Archer carefully glides out of me, leaving my hole empty and ravenous. He strokes his cock with my juices coating him.
"Bagels," I blurt out, my cheeks reddening from that being the only thing I could come up with.
"Bagels?"
"Yes. Bagels. Now are you going to fuck me or not?" I reach between my legs and rub my clit, hungry for another release even though I just had one.
He snatches my hand, pulling it away. "You touch yourself when I tell you to." Archer steps back and points to the couch. "Now get on your knees."
My heart skips a beat and I lick my lips, moving without question and getting on my knees, my back to him. I glance over my shoulder as he watches me, his eyes scanning my body.
Archer hikes my dress up my back, exposing my ass more than it already was. He grips it tightly then gently smacks it.
I arch into him, the tip of his cock pressing against me.
"Remember what I said." Archer slides up and down my pussy, pushing into my hole but not entirely. "Okay?"
"I remember."
"What did I say?"
"That you respect me." Part of me wishes he would disrespect me, though.
"That's my girl." He lines himself up with my entrance. "Now grab onto the back of the couch."
I grip the edge loosely and he slams into me, sending me forward. I reposition, holding on tighter as he wraps his hands around my thighs and drags me onto him with force.
It takes me a second to adjust to his wrath, but the second I do, I push into him, both of us moaning, his coming out more like grunts, each sound hot as fuck.
"Fuck," I pant, struggling to keep hold while he fucks me hard and fast.
He reaches down, moving my leg to spread me wider, each thrust more intense than the last.
I take every bit of it, not wanting it to stop but aching for a release.
"You're such a slut for me," Archer groans. He rubs my ass before smacking it, this time harder. He smooths his hand over the spot and hits me again.
I respond by slamming into him and arching my back more.
"You like it rough, don't you?" Archer smacks me again, my ass no doubt welting.
"I do," I can barely get out.
"Give me your hands."
I don't even think about it, I just sit up a bit straighter and extend them toward him.
He stops fucking me for a quick moment to grip them both in one of his hands and turn me so my body is horizontal with the couch. Archer shoves my face into the cushion, one of his legs now up on the couch as he holds my hands behind my back and fucks me hard.
My vision blurs and I turn my head, gasping for air, moans leaving my mouth.
Archer rubs my ass, smacking it again, hard, before sliding his thumb over my asshole. He pushes until the tip has penetrated me.
Not for a second do I consider using my safe word, my mind and body desperate for more of whatever he's willing to give me.
"Have you had enough?" he says through grunted thrusts.
"No," I whine.
He shoves into me harder, my face dragging against the cushion. Keeping hold of my hands, he spits onto my ass, rubbing his thumb over my hole and putting it back inside. Archer applies pressure and changes his tempo, fucking me slower, but deeper, slamming into me. His body smacks against mine and I revel in the sensations, all of them so much at once.
I bite down on my lip as an orgasm builds without warning and throws me over the edge. A copper taste fills my mouth, and I tense, but not from the climax still rattling through me.
"What is it?" Archer asks, softening his blows.
"I'm bleeding on your couch." Suddenly, I feel overwhelmed with panic, like he's going to be mad at me for real instead of this play pretend he's doing right now. "I'm sorry."
Archer removes his hands, letting mine fall to my sides, flips me over and picks me up, all of it happening so fast I can barely keep up. He looks into my eyes before sucking my lip into his mouth, my blood now on his lips. "It's just a couch, I don't care." He slides me onto his cock while holding me. "Can you take more or are you done?"
"I'm not done until you are," I tell him. "You need to come, too."
"That's the least of my worries." Archer bucks into me once, stiff and hard, and sets me back down on the couch, pulling himself out of me. Slowly, with his heavy gaze on me, spread eagle on the couch, he unbuttons his shirt and slides it over his broad shoulders, dropping it onto the floor. He unzips his pants the rest of the way, dragging them over his ass and kicking off his shoes. He stands there, stark naked, covered in ink all over.
"God damn you're sexy," I say, my mouth practically hanging open.
He extends his hands and I put mine into his. Archer helps me up and turns me around, ripping what's left of my dress off. "Shame about the dress," he says but I know damn well he doesn't care about the dress.
In nothing but the heels I've been wearing all night, Archer runs his fingers through my hair, along my back, and kneels to continue the length of my body. "On your knees," he commands.
Completely obedient, I plop onto the couch, expecting him to fuck me from behind again, but instead, Archer leaves a trail of his tongue up my thigh and to my core. With his hands spreading me apart, he licks at my center, tasting the lust that's been building for him for so long. Archer dips his tongue into my pussy and cups it, licking me with force. I tense, every bit of me sensitive from what he's already done to me, my mind wondering how much more I can take, and how much he's willing to give.
Every inch of me is eager to find out.
Archer shoves two fingers into me, not even easing them in. He thrusts them hard, burying himself knuckle deep. He keeps licking me, his tongue dancing perfectly over my aching core. Rocking his inked fingers, he moves like he's spent his entire life dedicated to finding out what I like.
I bend over, arching my back for him, and moan. "Oh fuck, Archer. Right. Fucking. There."
He thrusts another finger into my hole, filling and stretching me, but nothing like his cock had done. Archer keeps finger fucking me, aggressively and so fucking good, until I'm tensing around him.
But this time, Archer doesn't let me come, he stops abruptly right before I'm about to dive over the edge. He pulls his hand out but leaves his face there, tilting it from side to side, licking all over my pussy. He sucks my labia into his mouth and buries his face in me.
"Archer," I pant. "Please."
I can practically feel him smile against my pussy, giving it one last lick and breaking away. Archer stands, gripping his hard cock in his hand, stroking the length of it. "I don't think you're ready yet, little tornado."
"I am." I nod too enthusiastically and reach between my legs, my clit aching against my fingers.
Archer halts mid-stroke, dropping his cock. "What did I say about touching yourself?"
I continue anyway, not caring what he has to say. If he won't finish this orgasm, I will. He's given me two others, what's so different about this one?
"Put your knees together," he demands and because I'm desperate for him to please me, I do it. With one leg, he leans onto the couch next to me, one hand on my back and another on my ass. "Remember your safe word, little tornado?"
"Yeah, I remember it." I hold on to the back of the couch and look at him, wondering what's next.
"Good, because you're going to need it." Archer rubs his palm over my ass, smacking me a second later, harder than he has before.
I flinch, but only from surprise, not from the pain. No, the pain is fucking delectable, and I want more. "Is that it?"
He hits me with more force, the sound rattling my ears.
A smile breaks across my face and I pucker my ass in the air for him. "I'm waiting."
"Very well." Archer moves, his target no longer the entirety of my cheek, but now his aim is dead center. He swirls his palm over the skin, smacking me, my pussy lips included.
"Oh fuck," I moan, the sensation both agony and pleasure battling to take the stage. "Again."
He hits me again, and again, and again, each one making my body tense in so many ways. Archer moves his hand from my back, bringing it under to pinch my nipple in between his fingers. He rolls it around and releases it to give the other one attention while skimming his palm over my ass and pussy. His next hit almost sends me into orgasm, but I fight it back, wanting more.
I've never had sex this rough before, but I don't think I ever would have wanted it from any of my past partners. There's something about Archer that makes me feel safe even though he's absolutely destroying me.
"That's enough," he says after he smacks me one more time, almost like he's annoyed I hadn't given in.
I'm not sure there's anything he can do to me I wouldn't allow him to, not when the tension had been building between us this long, and knowing that it can't happen ever again, no matter how badly I want it to.
Archer spins me around and picks me up, holding on to my legs as he carries me over to his desk, setting me down on the cold surface. "Lay back."
"What about your computer?" I start to lean but hesitate.
"I said lay back."
"Gosh, Mister Groucho." I lower myself completely so I'm flat on his desk as he stands between my legs.
He glares at me. "How many times am I going to have to tell you I'm not grouchy?"
"You're just in denial," I tell him and watch him fist his cock, pointing it at my hole, sliding it up and down.
Archer doesn't take his eyes off my pussy when he glides into me, slow at first and then all at once, slamming deep and hard. "You frustrate me, you know that?" He brings my knees up, pushing his chest against them, and fucks me with a passion that tells me exactly how frustrated I make him.
I reach for him but he's too far away, my hands dropping to my sides.
"Touch yourself," he orders. "Pinch those nipples for me."
I run my hands up my body, my eyes on his as I do what he says. "Like this?" I moan when he shoves into me.
"Harder." Archer drives himself further, rattling something off his desk and sending it onto the floor. "Pinch them as hard as you'd want me to."
I squeeze them so tightly it hurts and my pussy throbs at being beaten by not just his cock but his hand, too. "Fuck, Archer, I'm so close. Please. Please let me come."
"Beg for it." He drops one of my legs, letting it fall to the side, giving him access to my clit. Archer hovers his hand right above it and stares right at me. "Beg for it, little tornado."
"Please," I whimper. "I'll do anything." I cup my tits in my hands, grabbing them firmly. "Let me come. Let me come for you. Let me come on your cock. Fuck, Archer. I need this. I need you."
Archer spits onto my pussy and applies pressure to my clit, giving me exactly what I want, my entire body rattling with pleasure and pain.
I come hard and fast and it lasts so fucking long I'm not sure it will ever end. Archer rolls my clit through the entire thing, his cock slamming in and out of me, slowing its pace once I'm done.
Panting, I open my eyes and meet his.
"Next time keep your eyes on me," he says with a straight face. "Or I'll stop mid-orgasm."
Archer slides me off the table, his cock still buried inside of me. I cling to his sweat-glistened, decadently tattooed body as he carries me into the kitchen. He lowers me onto the floor by the counter and pulls himself out of me. "Turn around and bend over, little tornado."
Unsure of how much more of this I can take, I do what he says and stretch my body across the cold counter. This isn't the first time my body has been horizontal on this surface, but the other times were when he was washing my hair, his hands gently scrubbing my scalp. There's nothing gentle about what he's doing to me tonight.
Archer nudges my legs apart with his foot and runs his left hand up my back while guiding his cock with his other. He moans as he penetrates me and goes easy for a second, slamming into me the next.
I brace myself on the counter and revel in the fullness. My pussy aches in the best way and I spread my legs a little wider for him, tensing around his rock-hard shaft.
"You feel so fucking good, little tornado. Your pussy was made for me. You were made for me." He continues thrusting, his hands gripping my hips, his fingers digging in. "Tell me you were made for me."
"I was made for you," I struggle to get out.
"Is this too much for you?" he asks, the tone of his voice like he's breaking character because he's not sure if I'm okay.
"No," I tell him truthfully. "I want you to come."
Archer smacks my ass and continues to fuck me, hard and deep. "I don't think you're ready for that yet." He changes his rhythm, thrusting in at an angle, a new bout of sensations consuming me. "I think I could make you come again. What do you think?"
I clench around him and moan loudly.
"You keep making those noises and I might come for you." Archer slows down but keeps fucking me deeper, rocking his hips in such a heavenly manner. "Don't be shy. Let me hear you. Moan for me."
I don't hold back, letting every bit of pleasure course through me and to my mouth, moaning like no one is listening. Desperately searching for something to grip, I push back onto him and wonder how it's possible another orgasm is so fucking near. A man has never been able to make me come, let alone this many times. It's like I've died and gone to orgasm heaven. Archer unleashing sweet hell on my pussy.
"That's it, baby." Archer's cock throbs inside of me and it's enough to send me over the edge, screaming out as I shatter around him.
My vision blurs again and my entire body shakes, my pussy convulsing like it's trying to milk his fucking cock, this one more intense than the last.
Archer carefully pulls himself out of me, leans down, and presses a kiss on my back before kneeling behind me and playing with my still aching pussy. "You're throbbing for me. So fucking wet." He moans. "You taste so good." Archer skims his finger along my soaked skin and dips it inside, stroking gently. He licks at my hole, sliding his tongue in and out, over and over a few times.
I hate that everything he does is so fucking good, making me want him even more, despite thinking I've had my fill. I guess if there's a way to die, I'd settle with being fucked to death by Archer Sin.
Archer stands, his hand on my pussy, his fingers penetrating me. "You think you can come again, little tornado?"
Breathless, I shake my head.
"Is that a challenge?" Without looking at him I can hear the smile on his face. Archer continues to stroke me with his fingers, gliding them in and out, all around, hitting every nerve ending he can. He presses his thumb against my asshole, applying just enough pressure to make me tense. "You have a few more in you, baby. Don't deny me."
Still reeling from my last orgasm, I can barely catch my breath as he builds another. I've lost total control over my body and I'm not entirely sure if I'm mad about it at all. There are worse things than a drop-dead gorgeous man making you come uncontrollably.
"When I'm done with you, you won't even remember your own name," he says with his fingers buried in my pussy. "That's it." His voice is rough but reassuring.
"Archer," I moan. "Fuck."
"Say my name. Keep saying my name." He shoves another finger inside of me.
"Archer…Archer…" I bite my lip.
"Don't stop," he tells me.
"Archer…" I whimper and buck against him. "Fuck me, Archer."
He slams his fingers into me and I come undone, crying out for him.
Archer removes his hand, quickly pulling me off the counter, turning me around and lifting me into the air, setting me down onto his cock, my orgasm still rattling through me.
I wrap my legs around his waist and moan against his neck, my teeth dragging along his flesh.
"I love when you come around me," Archer whispers. "I can't get enough of your tight pussy." He holds me close to him and carries me to the bedroom, still maintaining his grip as he lowers me onto the bed ever so softly. Archer stills, his dark eyes meeting mine. He tucks my damp hair behind my ear. "You're so beautiful, London."
The way he says my name sparks something in my chest. I swallow and move my hands up his back, to his neck, to his face.
Archer leans in, grazing his nose against mine before placing a kiss on my lips, nothing aggressive about him this time. He keeps kissing me, the movements growing passionate, but not forceful. Ever so subtly, he pushes his cock into me, his thrusts considerate. We stay like this for a while, kissing and fucking, fucking and kissing, only, after some time goes by, I'm not sure we're fucking at all, and that is somehow hotter than I would have expected it to be.
I spread my legs and push against him, my moans mixed with his, our mouths not daring to break apart until finally, Archer pulls away and looks into my eyes.
His cock hardens and his breath goes ragged. "I want to see your eyes when I come inside of you." He cups my face in his hand, his thumb rubbing my cheek, so much love in every single thing he's doing.
My pussy aches and despite not thinking it was possible, I find myself so fucking close from how loving he's being. "I'm close," I tell him.
"Come with me, London. Let's do this together."
"Together," I breathe, my gaze locked on his.
With one final deep thrust, I feel him quiver, setting my orgasm off, too, the two of us climaxing at the same time, his cock spilling over into me, my pussy pulsating around him.
It's more intense than I imagined, and I'm not entirely convinced I'm going to be able to walk once we finish.
Archer melts his mouth onto mine, kissing me with a renewed passion, our tongues dancing along each other’s as he fucks us both through our orgasms. With a grunt, Archer stops completely and rests his forehead on mine. "That was intense." He collapses onto his side, taking me with him as his cock is still buried in me.
I lay there, panting and reeling from orgasm after orgasm, my body all but glued to him with the sweat coating both of us.
We stay there in silence for a few minutes, Archer holding me like he never wants to let go. He presses soft kisses on my forehead, his cock throbbing in my pussy. "Are you okay?"
I nod.
Archer rises onto his elbow, taking a better look at me. "Are you okay?" he asks me again.
"Yes," I tell him, my voice cracking. "I'm okay."
He breathes a sigh of relief and traces the outline of my face. "Are you sure?"
I roll my eyes. "I'm sure, big boy."
Carefully, as if I might break completely if he makes the wrong move, Archer slips his cock out of me. He sits on his knees and scoops me into his arms.
"What are we doing now?" I question and consider using my safe word if he has more in store for me.
" We are going to take a shower. But I am going to do all the work. You've done enough, London. It's my turn to take care of you." Archer carries me from the bed toward the door.
"You just made me come how many times, and you came once. It's safe to say I have a little more work cut out for me," I respond.
"That was my plan all along." He kisses my forehead and takes me into the bathroom, somehow holding me in one arm as he turns the shower on, giving it a chance to warm up before bringing me inside. "I know you like it hot, but we're going to have to compromise." He sets me on the bench in the shower, turning some of the faucets to where they're hitting both of us at the same time. He grabs the showerhead and rinses my body, the stream both warm and comforting, but not as much as he is.
I didn't expect to feel so vulnerable once we hooked up, and now here I am, wondering why I did this to myself to begin with. I thought this could be a one-time thing, that maybe sleeping with Archer would get him out of my system, but I'm afraid all this did was make things worse, my desire to keep him in my life somehow stronger than it was before.
But I can't keep him, I know this, not when he'd hate me if he knew the truth.
"Archer…" I say, not quite ready to tell him but knowing I can't wait much longer. Not when he was kissing me like he loved me, touching me like he needed me, and especially not now, taking care of me like I'm the only girl in the world.
"Shh." Archer runs his fingers through my hair and lets the water hit it. "Don't waste your energy. I've got you."
Tears well in my eyes and I'm grateful that we're in the shower and I can easily disguise them. I sit here, allowing Archer to continue to do with me as he pleases, my throat aching to say my safe word, finally hitting the limits of what I'm capable of taking.
He washes my hair, this time because he wants to, not out of obligation like in the past. Archer lathers up a washcloth, cleaning every inch of my body, being extra gentle in all the sore spots. He kisses me and for a split second, I enjoy how he's pampering me, each time reminding myself that it can't continue, that it won't last—I can't let it.
Once he's done, Archer showers quickly, and I watch him, admiring every inked spot on his body. I hadn't noticed that his back was covered in a giant skull surrounded by roses. It's sort of poetically beautiful, in a cynical kind of way, but I can't help but wonder how painful it was, and what provoked him to get it. Or all his tattoos, for that matter. It takes a special sort of dedication to get one tattoo, let alone as many that could cover most of your skin. His body is a stunning canvas I want nothing but to explore, one night not long enough to navigate every inch of him.
Archer rinses himself and shuts the water off, stepping outside of the shower to retrieve a towel. He comes back, dabbing my damp skin and wrapping it around my body, not a word spoken between us, and still so much being said. He secures one around his waist before scooping me into his arms and setting me on the bathroom counter. Archer brushes my hair, and even goes as far as to apply lotion to my body, and the special one I use for my face. He hands me my toothbrush and pops his into his mouth, both of us brushing our teeth together, the thought of doing this forever crossing my mind.
I hop off the counter to finish brushing my teeth, my legs a bit wobbly underneath me. I ignore the pain in my ankle at not being completely healed just yet, the cast borderline taken off prematurely but not something I'd ever admit out loud.
"I can walk," I tell Archer as he comes toward me, no doubt to pick me up again.
He narrows his gaze at me. "Let me take care of you."
"I am," I admit. "But I can walk. It isn't far." The truth is that I'm not sure how much more I can stand to be in his arms if it won't last another night.
But maybe it could. Maybe I could find a way to make it all make sense. Maybe I could explain to him that my father was a disturbed man, and I tried, I really tried to save her, the love of Archer's life. I know damn well that's not the truth, though—I could have tried harder. I could have done something, anything, to save her, even if it meant dying alongside her. That's what should have happened. I shouldn't have bargained for my life, I should have bled out at the hands of Ricardo Gardella—only if I did, I wouldn't have been able to help Cora, and if I didn't help Cora, then my father might still be alive, his torturous reign needing to have come to an end.
"What's on your mind?" Archer tells me as he pulls back the comforter on his bed and fluffs my pillow for me.
"Nothing," I lie, climbing into the spot he makes for me. "You're staying, right?" I blink up at him, unsure of the words that come out of my mouth.
"Do you want me to?" He covers me up, his dark eyes meeting mine.
"More than you know."
"Okay." Archer turns off the light in his room before coming back. "Scoot over. I want to be closer to the door."
I fight the urge to smile at him and comply, barely giving him space and settling into his warm body once he's positioned himself horizontally. My head fits perfectly on his chest and only adds to the struggle I'm facing at not wanting to let him go.
At least for tonight, maybe I won't have to.
Archer lets out a sigh, holding me to him and kissing my forehead. "You sure you're okay?"
"I'm okay," I breathe into him. "Right now, I'm perfect."
"I was rough with you."
"I liked it." I kiss his bare chest. "I promise."
Archer keeps me close to him, his arms tightly around me, all night, occasionally pressing his lips to my face and head throughout the night. I doze in and out, never quite able to fall completely asleep, not wanting to miss the chance of enjoying what I have while it's right here.
Hours pass and I drift into a nightmare, jarring myself awake abruptly.
"Shh." Archer rubs circles on my back. "You're safe. I'm here," he murmurs, lulling me to sleep.
I wake sometime later, a vibration on the nightstand disturbing us both.
Archer kisses me and reaches blindly, his hand hitting the tabletop a few times until he locates the source of the ringing. "It's Ivy," he says, his voice jagged. "I should answer this, she doesn't often call this early."
My eyes adjust to see the time, two after six in the morning. I could use a few or thirty more hours of cuddling Archer.
"Hello?" he says into the receiver.
"Check your email." Ivy is clear and straight to the point.
"What?" Archer clears his throat and sits up, reaching to cover my shoulder with the blanket.
"I said check your email. Right now. It's urgent." Ivy pauses and adds. "I'll stay on the line."
Archer sighs dramatically. "Can't this wait?"
"No."
He grunts and shimmies out of bed, going over to his dresser to pull out a pair of boxers, sliding into them sloppily, almost falling over as he keeps the phone pressed between his ear and shoulder. "This better be good, Ivy."
I can’t make out what she says, not from my spot in bed. My heart races at what could have prompted her to demand this from Archer, none of it any of my business.
Archer slips out of the room, and I follow his footsteps quietly across the hall until I lose them near his desk. He types onto his keyboard and lowers himself into his chair, a sound I've gotten familiar with in the course of my time here with him.
Curiosity consuming me, I slip out of bed, too, and throw one of his shirts over my head, tiptoeing out, not trying to distract him from his family matters.
But when I settle on Archer's figure, he's tense, tenser than he ever has been, his phone held tightly in his grip.
I go behind him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and glancing at the screen, my pulse pounding wildly in my ears, threatening to give out completely, my arms going slack as they untangle from around him.
My picture. My face. My driver’s license from California.
My real name glaring back at me.
London Gardella .
My birth certificate loaded next to it, Ricardo Gardella's name listed as my father’s.
"Ivy," Archer says cooly. "I'm going to need to call you back." He drops the phone onto his desk, his chest heaving.
"I—I can explain."
Archer whips his head toward me. "What do you mean, you can explain?"
"I mean, I only just found out. Not that long ago. I wanted to tell you. I tried to tell you." But that's a lie, because if I was going to confess, I could have done it a million times over by now. No, I was being a selfish asshole and keeping this secret to myself. It's my fault he's staring at me the way he is right now, like I'm a fucking stranger to him, someone that he didn't just share an epic night with.
Archer lowers his head into his hand, rubbing his temples. "I don't understand. You're Ricardo Gardella's daughter?"
"Not by choice," I blurt out, tears streaming down my cheeks. "I hate him, as much as you hate him, especially for what he did to Madison."
Archer's eyes dart up to meet mine. "You knew about this?"
My mouth falls open, unable to find the words to say to make this right.
"You fucking knew about this?" Archer rises to his feet, and for the first time since I've known him, he holds all the cards to hurt me, to really fucking hurt me. And the sad thing about it is that I wouldn't blame him, not one bit. His nostrils flare and I sense the end before it even happens. "Get the fuck out."
"Archer, please…let me explain."
His hand balls into a fist and he looks at me like he's never looked at me—like he hates me, but not in a cute and annoying way, like he truly wouldn't be bothered whether I lived or died.
"Get the fuck out of my apartment right now before either one of us does anything they regret."
"Please," I protest, my voice smaller than it's ever been. In all the times I begged my father for my life, I've never been this desperate. I reach for Archer, but he yanks himself away.
"Get the fuck out of my apartment, London." His jaw tenses as if he's choosing his next words carefully. "I never want to see you again."
My heart rips in two, both from having something so wonderful and losing it, and from knowing there's not a single thing I could do to ever fix this. A sad reality that I'm going to have to learn how to face, even if it takes me forever.