15. Scarlet
15
SCARLET
T his is all wrong, isn’t it? There’s no way I should want him after what he’s done. Usually, when a guy kidnaps a girl, the last thing she wants is to touch him.
Much less touch him the way I’m thinking of now.
It shouldn’t come as a surprise. Since when has anything about Ren and me made sense?
I can’t think straight. When he’s this close and so big and warm and capable of overwhelming my entire awareness, I want nothing but more . More of him. His familiar, cherished smell—one whiff and I’m where I belong, who I’m meant to be. Everything that isn’t essential in life falls away. It’s addictive.
And that’s only one of my senses.
His voice rings in my ears, and its deep rumble vibrates through me when he holds me close. The way he is now, so close it’s like we’re one body.
The feel of him, those rough hands taking a slow tour of my body. They hold magic in them. They have the ability to wake me up and make me crave. To leave me sizzling, burning, and trembling in their wake. It’s enough to make my heart flutter, dancing on the edge between fear and yearning. This is dangerous, what he’s doing to me. What he makes me want to do.
And it’s more than begging him to touch and taste and all the things I’ve fantasized about so many times. More than urging him to take what I’ve saved for him, only for him.
He makes me want to forget everything he’s been accused of.
He even admitted it—and didn’t seem the least bit regretful—yet I want to push it all aside like it never happened. With him, I’m questioning my loyalty and why it ever mattered in the first place.
Especially when he presses his erection against my stomach, a soft groan stirring in his throat. “You mean that?”
“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.” It’s painful, straining against the leather binding my wrists. I grit my teeth against the bite of the belt but try again. The possibility of being able to touch him makes the pain worth it.
His gaze shifts, darting up to where I try to flex my hands in vain.
“Can you untie them?” I whisper, hopeful he will. “I need to touch you. You have no idea how much I want to touch you right now.”
“I think I do. I’ve felt that tremble, that same deep-rooted need for a very long time.”
Yes, I believe him when our eyes meet again.
When I recognize the naked need in them and understand, maybe for the first time ever, how he struggles to keep himself in check. It’s not like it was ever a secret—you can’t walk around with your dick sticking straight out and pretend there isn’t at least attraction going on.
I never knew with this sort of certainty what a battle I put him through. It shows in the way his chiseled features pinch together like he’s in pain. I hear it in the throb in his voice. I feel it in the pressure of his fingertips against my lower back, pulling me closer and trapping his erection between us.
He’s a living, breathing pile of need.
For me. It’s all for me.
I jerk my arms. “Please, Ren. Don’t make me beg you.”
Though I will if he wants me to. Right now, I’d do anything for him because he’s here, fully here, and there’s no more of that weird awkwardness. The alien with no feelings is gone, and in his place is Ren. My Ren.
Dark brows draw together an instant before he shakes his head.
“No. No, I like you better this way.” Light flickers in those familiar blue depths while a knowing grin tugs at his mouth. “I might lose control if I have your hands on me.”
“Please?” I beg, nonetheless, because I know he likes it.
A visible shudder ripples through him, and something close to a growl escapes his throat, deepening the torment he’s putting me through.
I need to touch, feel, hold.
“No,” he says again, and when he lets me go, pulling back, my heart sinks. Oh no. I’ve pissed him off.
I’m too needy. He’s going to punish me by going away. Immediately, my thoughts go to a bad place.
Instead, he rises to his knees, towering over me as he lifts a leg to straddle my upper half. This is so completely outside my realm of experience that I can barely process what’s happening. I only know I could become addicted to the breathless anticipation of what’s to come. Yet a tinge of fear zings through my gut.
He wouldn’t hurt me, right?
He couldn’t.
This is the first time I’ve witnessed him like this, and the thrill and anticipation overtake any fear I might be having. I remind myself that I have nothing to fear. Nothing beyond him leaving me like this, with my body burning for his touch, for relief from the ever-increasing tension that I’m pretty sure will kill me if it keeps going.
But I know I’d die if he stopped. There’s no pretty sure about it.
How’s he going to do this? What does he want from me? I can hardly form a question before another one comes in to push it out of the way.
“I’ll do my best to take it easy on you,” he vows, his voice raspy, thanks to the excitement making his breath come short and fast. I stare into his blue eyes as he continues. “But I can’t promise I won’t be rough. It’s been a very long time since I did anything with anyone, and my desire for you is at the forefront of my mind.”
I lick my lips, and he groans. “Whatever you need from me.”
His grin lights up my heart while moistening my pussy even more. “I’ll hold you to that.”
His grin dissolves once he’s lowered his zipper and dips a hand into his boxers. It’s like my heart’s going to explode if it doesn’t slow down, but there’s no slowing it. Every beat is heavy, the rush of blood filling my ears.
I watch with bated breath as he begins to pull himself free—the tension builds with every passing second, but he doesn’t seem to be in any hurry. He has me where he wants me. He doesn’t have to rush.
Who am I kidding? He’s always had me where he wants me.
That hasn’t changed.
“You want to give me pleasure?” All of a sudden, he’s free, in front of me, the thick head of his cock sticking out from inside his tight grip. “That means wrapping your pretty pink lips around this.” He strokes himself slowly, and I watch, mesmerized. “Are you sure you can handle this? You’ve never sucked a dick before, angel. It can take some practice, and it’s not always enjoyable. Are you sure you want to do this?”
“How do you know I’ve never given a blow job before?” I tease with a grin.
Ren’s hand is on me in a flash, and his fingers grip my chin firmly, forcing me to look nowhere else but at him. “Don’t tease me, angel. You aren’t in a position to tempt the beast inside me. I’ve wanted your pretty mouth around my cock for a very long time.”
A slow breath passes my lips while a nervous energy courses through me.
“I want you, and I’ll do my best to do a good job,” I promise in a shaky voice. “I trust you.”
He lets out a long breath and releases his hold on me. “You have no idea what it means to hear you say that.” Even as he speaks so gently, his hand moves up and down his hard length.
I’ve never seen a dick up close and personal like this. I’ve felt it. I’ve imagined what he would look like without pants. I knew he had to be big—it would only make sense with his large frame. But this is beyond what I imagined in all those lonely, late-night fantasies. He’s thick, long, and veiny, and for a moment, I contemplate if this is going to work. If I’ll be able to take him fully into my mouth.
I’m torn between fascination and anticipation as I watch a bead of clear liquid ooze from the swollen tip. He catches it with his thumb and rubs it over his head, groaning deeply, his eyes focused on me.
“Are you ready, angel?”
“Yes,” I blurt out, straining, wishing I could take hold of him. I want him to teach me. I need to learn how to please him. He’s already so good at pleasing me.
My breath catches when he reaches out, brushing hair away from my forehead, letting his hand slide over the top of my head until he cups the back. I can’t understand how he can make me feel this way—breathless and nervous and helpless, and so deeply wanted. The heat already blazing deep in my core flares until I’m surprised it doesn’t consume me.
“Open your mouth,” he orders gruffly.
Nothing about him is gentle now. The look in his eyes has changed. There’s still deep, burning desire, but there’s something else. Possession, a need to own me.
He has an edge to him, something dangerous. He’s no longer holding himself back. It’s unbelievable how much that turns me on. How much more I want him. How wet I am, so wet and aching I could cry.
For once, it isn’t my pleasure we’re focused on.
It’s his. He brings himself closer to my mouth, and his harsh breathing stops for an instant once the silky tip touches my lips. I part them to let him in, my entire body going still as I focus solely on the sensation of his velvet-covered steel invading my mouth one excruciating inch at a time.
Am I doing this right? I guess he’d tell me if I wasn’t.
A deep groan comes from his full lips, and my pulse quickens. The sound is almost as good as the feeling of his fingers and tongue on me. The memory of it invades my mind. It leaves me squeezing my thighs together in silent desperation to ease the painful ache in my clit, as he slowly fills my mouth and, eventually, hits the back of my throat.
“Fuck…” He draws out the sound, and from this angle, I can just make out the features of his face. The way his eyes close and his nostrils flare, the way his lips part ever so slightly, and his head tips back.
Is it supposed to feel like this? So… powerful? Because that’s the word that comes to mind as he pulls back, then pushes forward again. Slowly, so slowly.
I have power over him . I know it because he has the same power over me. When he went down on me and when he fingered me at the party, there weren’t many conscious thoughts going through my head except for one.
I would’ve done anything for him.
Absolutely anything. He could’ve asked me to jump off a bridge, and I probably would’ve done it if it meant he wouldn’t stop. My entire life hinged on whether or not he’d keep doing what he was doing.
With that in mind, I brace myself for the next sure thrust, for the next groan that tears its way from him when he reaches the back of my throat and leaves me gagging and struggling not to give away the panic that’s slowly creeping in.
I catch him watching me, our eyes meeting, and I’m sure he recognizes the way I’m fighting to go along with this. My heart swells in my chest. I’d do anything to make him feel as good as he’s made me feel. To make him come the way he’s so generously done for me.
But .
Instead of taking it easy or letting me up for air, his grip on my head tightens—my scalp tingles when he threads his fingers into my hair—and he drives himself deeper than before, so deep I gag. I should be better at this. I should be able to handle it. We were made for each other, yet his huge penis doesn’t seem to fit well with my mouth. Tears of frustration and confusion sting my eyes, and as hard as I try, I can’t blink them back.
They slip down my cheeks, a silent betrayal reminding me of how inexperienced I am. He only adds to the confusion when he grunts.
“Good girl.” He means it, I realize. The praise trailing off with a happy sigh while he enters me again, and again until he’s fucking my face in a sure, steady rhythm I’m helpless to do anything against.
He’s always teaching me something about myself.
How delicious danger can be.
How far I’m willing to go for something—someone—I want more than I’ve ever wanted anything. More than life itself.
Now, I’m learning how hot it is to feel used. Dirty, but in a good way. Like I’m nothing but a hole for his pleasure. It doesn’t matter that I’m gagging, choking, practically fighting for my life, my lungs burning as I sip in as much air as possible every time he pulls back.
I want this . I want him to use me like I’m nothing.
So long as he praises me like he is. With his hand cupping the back of my head as gently as he’d hold a fragile piece of crystal, something treasured and cherished. It’s all so mixed up, and I doubt I could make sense of it if I tried.
I don’t want to. I don’t need to.
“Take me deeper,” he grunts between thrusts, banging against my nose every time he buries himself deep. “Suck it like my good girl. My Scarlet. My angel.”
Yes, yes, this is what I’ve craved. What I’ve dreamed of. Being entirely in his hands, giving him what he needs. Making him happy—that’s all I want at the end of the day. His happiness, which would mean mine.
A salty taste hits my tongue, one I savor. It must mean I’m doing something right, and it entices me to heighten the pressure from my lips while, with my tongue, I stroke the underside of his dick.
“Yeah… oh, yes… you’re so fucking good…” He rocks his hips, the bedsprings creaking faster and faster. I’m caught between the panic flaring to life again as he gives me less and less time to breathe and the pulsing of my clit—my entire pussy—in time with him slamming deep. Almost brutally.
More. I can take more. I moan my approval, my encouragement, my need, and he growls before taking my head in both hands.
“My sweet, dirty angel,” he pants with approval dripping from his voice. “Tied up like this. You like it, don’t you? You like me using you. Owning your mouth.” I moan in agreement. Nothing could be truer.
“You’re hungry for more, aren’t you? My cock? My cum? You want me to fill that pretty mouth with my cum, angel?”
I moan louder, eager, as greedy as he says. I want to make him come. I need to. Almost as much as I need his hands, mouth, and tongue on me. Knowing I can do this to him is a rush unlike any I’ve ever known. My lungs burn, and tears slip from my eyes as he gags me with his entire length. It’s almost more than I can take.
He hasn’t come yet, and I already can’t wait to make him do it again and again in every way possible. I want to be his everything, in all ways, even if I’m afraid he’s going to smother me or break my nose or both in his frenzy, a frenzy I know all too well. He’s brought me to this point before.
And he held on for my sake, so I can do the same for him.
A feeling of pride overtakes me, almost as intense as the arousal threatening to tear my sanity to pieces.
Go on, take what you need. Come for me like I’ve come for you.
Like he can hear me, he dissolves in a flurry of furious thrusts, losing his grip a little more with every ragged breath. He tugs my hair hard, painfully, and I wince caught between pleasure and pain.
“Yeah… yes, like that… it’s coming… get ready, angel… fuck!”
He slams himself deep one last time before going still. All at once, he fills my mouth with his salty fluid, more and more with every deep grunt until I can’t hold it all, and it begins leaking out from the corners of my mouth, dribbling down my chin. I’m lost, caught in limbo, hanging between deep pride, relief that it’s over, and a deep, desperate craving for more. It can’t be over yet. Not when I’m so hot and wet and aching, I could weep. I hope he doesn’t make me beg.
I hope he does.
I don’t know what’s what anymore. I don’t know who I am or what any of this means. Taking pleasure in being used? Now that he’s slowly withdrawing from my mouth, and I’m swallowing most of what he left behind, it doesn’t seem so normal and even necessary to have my face fucked by someone who basically kidnapped me. Until he smiles down at me—hazy, happy, spent.
And I swear I’m glowing bright enough to light up the room.
“Good girl.” He strokes the back of my head, still holding it in his gentle, protective grip. “I knew you’d do well when the time came. You were made for me. That sweet mouth took my cock so perfectly.”
Before I can think of anything to say—this is still so new, I don’t want to say anything stupid or awkward—he’s off the bed, grinning, tucking himself into his pants again.
I bite my lip, confused and unsure of what happens next. His cum is beginning to dry on my chin, and I’m starting to wonder if he plans on leaving me this way. Is this all a part of the game? Another way of controlling me? I’m not sure how it makes me feel.
I’m about to call out to him, to voice my questions, when he returns with a cloth in hand. “I knew it would be like an explosion when I finally had your lips wrapped around me,” he muses in a soft voice while he cleans my face. “But I didn’t expect there to be so much.”
He lowers the cloth, shining with pride that sends a lightning bolt of fresh sensation straight to my clit. “You did so well, angel.”
“Thank you. I wanted to be good for you. I didn’t want to disappoint you.” I beam.
“Oh, angel.” My heart soars when he runs the backs of his fingers over my cheek. “You could never. Not if you tried your hardest. I nearly came simply from the sensation of your lips being wrapped around me.”
This is the Ren I know. The Ren I missed with every beat of my broken heart. I’m home, finally, because he’s here with me.
I feel so full and happy that I can’t put it into words.
Something else keeps me from forming a sentence, too. Something that hasn’t eased in the moments since Ren came.
No. In fact, it’s worse than ever.
I lift my hips, whimpering pitifully. “Is there such a thing as blue balls for women?” I finally mutter in misery. “Because I think I have it. Please, help me. Make it go away.”
His brows lift in time with the amusement twisting his lips in a smirk. “You want a little relief? Did tasting my cock get you all worked up?”
“Yes.” Because what’s the use of pride at a time like this? I’m dying, I’d swear it, dying from arousal that’s crossed the line into pain. “Please, god, it hurts. Please touch me. Make me come.”
Before he can respond, I blurt out, “Fuck me, Ren.”
I don’t know where it came from. I didn’t mean to say it. Like deeper wisdom forced it out of me. Because that’s what I really want, deep down inside. I want to feel him inside me, locked with me. I want to feel like I’m his, body and soul. I need it. I’ll die without it.
The same dark need I saw earlier flashes across his face again, and for a heartbeat, I’m sure he’s going to give me what I need. I don’t even care that my hands have gone numb, and my shoulders are going to hurt like hell by the time I can move my arms again. He’s finally going to fuck me, to claim me.
Thank god. There’s no silencing the groan of misery that comes from deep inside me when he shakes his head.
“No, angel. Not yet. I won’t fuck you like this.”
“But it hurts,” I whine in a voice I hardly recognize. Can’t he see what he’s doing to me? Of course he can, and he likes it.
And, dammit, a part of me likes it, too. Even if the rest of me is not a fan.
“Don’t worry.” His eyes twinkle as he reaches into his back pocket. “I didn’t forget about you. I knew giving me pleasure would turn you on. You’re a bad girl, after all, angel.”
My eyes widen at the sight of a silver device. Small, shaped like an elongated egg, with a slim cord and control knob attached to one end. I’ve seen them before, but I’ve never used one.
“Is that a vibrator?” I ask with my heart in my throat.
“It is, and it’ll keep you feeling good while I go and cool off. If I don’t, I won’t be able to stop myself from fucking you now.”
Before I can beg him again to do just that, he yanks the sweatpants down to my knees and spreads my thighs. The cool air against my hot skin leaves me arching my back, almost sobbing in pleasure so intense it’s closer to pain. It wouldn’t take long to make me come now.
Why won’t he give me what I need?
I can’t see the vibrator anymore, but I feel the pressure as he inserts it into my sopping pussy. It slides in easily, thanks to how wet I am.
It feels foreign and slightly uncomfortable, but my arousal makes up for it.
“Fuck,” he breathes, staring down at me. “So wet. I can smell it from here.” The hunger in his voice is promising, but he doesn’t so much as lower his head for a lick. Instead, he picks up the control knob and twists it.
“Oh. My. God.” My head falls back, eyes closed, when a light vibration begins rumbling between my thighs, inside me. It feels so incredibly good and painfully miserable at the same time.
“Please,” I whine. “It’s good, so good, but not enough to push me over the edge.”
Ren simply smiles knowingly before pulling the vibrator out and holding it to my clit. The orgasm hits me so fast and unexpectedly that, for a moment, I’m so overwhelmed by it that I worry I might pass out. I’m still coming down from my release when I feel the vibrator back in my pussy.
“This will keep you feeling good for now, and the next orgasm is going to be ten times stronger than this.”
Did he just say ten times? I blink my eyes open, the veil of pleasure still heavily draped over them. The orgasm I just had isn’t doing much to quench the thirst for more.
Even when I squeeze my legs tight, it’s not enough sensation to do the trick. It’s only enough to keep me close to the edge, to make me writhe and moan with mindless lust.
“You stay put, angel.” His lips ghost against my clammy forehead, his voice barely audible under my pitiful cries begging for relief. “And remember, only I can make this stop. I’m in control. Isn’t that right?”
Only one word comes to mind, the only word I know right now. “Yes!” I nearly shriek—a sound that ends on a sob when I hear him chuckling as he exits the room, leaving me to my helpless misery.