Chapter Seventeen
I f Serge wanted to prove what an asshole he was, he'd succeeded. Aubrey tapped her foot in the office after grabbing her sweater and checking in with Greg and Vic for the evening.
Messing with her was one thing. To screw with a child's health and wellbeing crossed the line.
He, of all people, knew the hardships of being a child living on the streets.
Already out of sorts from being away from Serge all day and thinking she couldn't live without him, she'd questioned her sanity after he had hauled her away as if she'd done something wrong. What if no one had helped the woman and child? She had to do something.
The absence of medical and dental care, an insufficient diet, and exposure to the elements led to daily fatalities. A child's delicate existence bore the brunt of these dangers.
She shut down the computer but left the lights on for the employees, who often took breaks in the office throughout the night.
Nothing was stopping her from going back outside and getting in Serge's car, except her reluctance to deal with him.
A small part of her understood why he was mad. It was risky for her to go inside a homeless encampment. But walking down the streets of any major city was just as dangerous.
Deliberately stalling, she set down her bag, filled a glass with water from the sink, and watered the plant in the corner of her desk. She also took out a case of disinfectant wipes from the closet in case they ran out tonight. When she could find no other tasks to complete, she walked out the door and locked the building for the night.
Down the block at metered parking, Serge leaned against his car with his arms crossed, ankles crossed, his mood even more crossed. Yeah, she'd successfully pissed him off even more.
In her anger, she'd forgotten how scary he could look in person. She also ignored how her nipples peaked at seeing him, regardless of his mood.
She approached him and stood in the middle of the sidewalk. "I did nothing wrong. I had to help a mother and her child. Nothing you do to me will stop me from helping someone else. So, if you want to be mad or push me away or dump me, go ahead."
His gaze narrowed. Her whole body shook. She had put up with a lot from him and always gave him the benefit of the doubt because he could make her feel on top of the world when he was around. But he couldn't be around all the time. She had a life to lead. She had people to help.
"Say something, dammit," she said.
Still, he stood there without a care in the world, unconcerned about whether he had hurt her or ruined what they had started. It was as if he had no feelings at all.
She marched over and poked him in the chest with her finger. "If you're mad, then tell me. If you've stopped wanting to be with me, then leave me alone. I can't stand not knowing how I fit in your life when you close yourself off from me."
She hadn't even realized she cried until the salty taste of tears fell onto her lips. She grabbed his shirt and shook him. "She's a baby. A sick baby—she sobbed—it isn't fair that she has nowhere to live, no father to keep her safe, no mother who is healthy enough to do more for her. I won't stop helping them."
Exhausted, she laid her forehead on his chest. Her cries continued after her feet left the ground, and even afterward when he set her in his car and buckled the seatbelt. Her desperation for Serge and her fear of that child dying without getting any help broke her.
Frustrated that Serge refused to empathize with someone who had been in the same position he was as a kid, she tried to understand what made him so uncaring, except when they were having sex.
She'd calmed by the time Serge pulled the BMW into his garage. Content to sit, hugging herself, she stayed in the passenger seat. She had nothing left to say or do.
Growing up with the belief that it was impossible to please her mom, she constantly second-guessed herself. Accepting others was challenging for her, while trusting them was even harder. Loving them felt almost impossible at times. Or perhaps she was the one who was impossible to love. Maybe her mom was right, and she wasn't good enough to receive love.
Those doubts were present in her childhood and continued to haunt her into adulthood.
Today, she'd disappointed Serge. Again.
How would he ever fall in love if she always upset him? She was setting herself up for heartbreak.
Serge opened her door, unfastened her seatbelt, and picked her up. She buried her head in his shoulder and closed her eyes. The need to understand his thoughts and the reasons behind his disapproval no longer troubled her. She only required his arms around her.
She shot up when he placed her on the bed and stepped away. "Don't go." She scrambled off the bed and lunged at him. "Please."
He held her away from him, his hands on her shoulders. "Stop."
"Don't leave," she said, hating the whine in her voice.
"I'm going to get you some Tylenol." He turned her around and smacked her ass, sending her toward the bed. "I'll be right back."
She whirled around and grabbed him, plastering herself against him. "No. Don't go."
The raw panic building inside of her burst out. She climbed him, throwing her arms around his neck, pulling him down, and kissing him. She shoved her tongue into his mouth, needing him to forget what she'd done, to forgive her, to let her have another chance.
She wanted to show him everything she couldn't say as she grabbed his cock through his pants, stroking him through the material. She could make him forget how angry he was with her.
He fisted her hair, pulling her away from him, and then pushed her down on her knees. "Stop, Bree."
Her body hummed. She wanted to beg and scream, but all her attention went to the front of his trousers.
She fumbled with his belt. He was hard inside his pants. She could feel him. His arousal had to mean something.
He pushed her hands away, pulled the leather belt out of the loops on his trousers, and ran the end of the strap under her chin. "Don't move."
Her vision clouded. "Serge, I—"
"Don't talk." His fingers let go of her hair.
Her scalp prickled as the strands fell back into place, sending a shiver down her spine. She held her breath as he walked behind her. His hands stroked her arms, pulling them back until her wrists crossed. He'd bound her arms behind her and looped the belt around her ankles, tying her like an animal to slaughter.
She tugged. Serge grabbed her hair to keep her from falling forward. "I told you not to move."
He walked around her, twisting her hair, immobilizing her, until he returned in front of her and undid the zipper of his jeans, freeing his erection.
She strained against his hold, needing his heat, wanting him inside of her, possessing her, showing her he'd never leave. He stepped forward, cock in hand, and she opened her mouth and closed her eyes.
"Look at me." He tapped her cheek with the head of his dick.
She'd barely opened her eyes when he took his hardness and slapped her cheek. Her pussy spasmed and she widened her knees, tilting her head up higher so she could gaze into his face.
Stern and unforgiving, he watched her intently while rubbing his dick along the length of her neck. "If I ever catch you talking, walking, looking at the people on the street, I will spank your ass until you're too sore to walk out the door."
She bit her lip to keep her teeth from chattering. Why was that threat better than any promise he could've given her? She wasn't looking for someone to control her, was she?
The thrill of what he could make her do overpowered every worry, and she opened herself to anything he gave her.
He pulled on her hair, and when she cried out from the startling pain, he stuck his cock in her mouth. She sucked greedily, pulling on his hold, needing him to fill her.
His hips thrust forward. She gagged but went right back to taking his length into her mouth. She closed her eyes and moaned low in her throat.
"No." He removed his cock. "Look. At. Me."
Unable to shake her arousal, she steeled herself for what would happen next, but he held her head in front of him and held his cock from her.
"I will prove to you as often as you need that I'll never leave you." He rubbed the swollen head of his erection against her lips. "I swear, Bree."
The air in her lungs whooshed out with more force than she could muster. A calm she had missed all day swept over her.
He stroked his length viciously. The strength and violent movements were painful for her to watch. His fist moved fast, coming to the end of his cock, and brushed her cheek with each pump. Her panties were wet, and she sat back on her ankles.
"You breathe because of me. You live because of me. You get up in the fucking morning, because I'm the one who put you to bed and watched over you all night while you slept." He grunted, straining as he jerked himself. "I'm taking care of you."
With each testimony, her body accepted her position at his feet and screamed yes. She wanted him to stay, to take care of her, to keep her safe, and never leave.
She understood that he'd always lived the same way, watching over his brother, staying alive, fighting for everything he had. He was going to fight for her.
No one in her life had ever wanted her. Knowing that he needed her as much as she needed him filled her with strength, love, and acceptance.
She was wanted. That's all she had ever wanted in her life.
He fisted the root of his cock and whipped his dick across her mouth. She licked her lips, tasting his pre-cum and the tang of blood where her lip had hit her eyetooth. Pleasure coiled in her core.
Serge intoxicated her. Every touch. Every word. He made her deliriously excited.
Her pussy pulsed. She writhed against her restraints. Her orgasm teased within her grasp.
He pulled back. "No. Do not come."
She rocked. The belt pulled on her arms. She ached inside, between her legs, her breasts.
Serge leaned over, unbuckled the belt, and loosened her arms from her legs. She pitched forward, but he caught her before she faceplanted on the floor.
He scooped her under the arms and lifted her into his arms as if she weighed nothing. She melted against his chest.
Serge tossed her on the bed and then landed on top of her. Her breath escaped her, but the pressure—God, the pressure. He was here. He stayed with her. He was never leaving.
She squirmed until one leg escaped from under him, and she hooked the back of his knee. Holding him in place, she grabbed his neck, pulled her head off the mattress, and captured his mouth.
"I want it rough," he murmured against her lips.
She sucked at his bottom lip. "Yes. Yes. Yes."
His hand pulled her jeans over her hips without undoing the button. She wiggled, getting rid of the offending material holding her from him. She kicked her other leg to the side, holding him in the V of her legs.
He linked her hands and then clasped them in his left hand, pinning her arms above her head. While he rolled to the left and, without taking her panties off, pulled the material to the side and plunged into her. She jolted underneath him as if in a seizure. Immense pleasure mixed with searing pain at the intrusion.
Having him that way made everything bigger, harder, more forceful. She was at his mercy, and it was the one place where she wanted to stay.
Unable to move her arms, she bucked underneath him until he fucked her so hard it left her impaired. She lay there, taking his passion, his anger, his attention, and soaking in the knowledge that he was here. As long as he was inside of her, stroking her, pounding on her, she had proof that she belonged with him.
The heels of her feet dug into the mattress, and she screamed in pleasure.
Then he was gone. She panicked, pulling her arms. "No..."
He rolled her over, pushed her face into the mattress, heaved her hips into the air, and gathered her hands, putting them underneath her. "Don't move."
She turned her head to find out what he was doing and a sharp pinch landed on her butt cheek where he bit her. She buried her face in the mattress.
Wet warmth from his tongue stroked the sting off her ass. She swayed on her knees, enjoying the softness. The difference in touch soothed her into relaxing, and she caught her breath.
Then his mouth was on her, licking the length of her, from clit to ass. One swipe. Two. Three. She panted against the comforter, straining for the relief that was near and yet wanting the pleasure to last forever. She rocked back against his face in rhythm with his plunging tongue.
"Oh, God." She groaned.
As if punishing her, he stopped and moved away. She lunged backward, searching for contact. Her pussy throbbed, wet and oh-God-so hot. Serge's hands went around her waist and he flipped her onto her back. She found herself staring up into his hardened face.
"I am the only one who will give you what you want," he said.
She nodded, trusting him.
He offered his hand, and she let him guide her off the bed. He remained sitting on the edge of the mattress. Sometime between kneeling on the floor and lying on the bed, he'd removed his trousers.
She straddled his legs, planting her knees on the mattress. He held one of his ties in his hand. She hadn't even seen him take one from the stand in the bedroom.
He removed her hands from his shoulders and bound her arms in front of him.
"Put your hands over my head," he said.
She raised her arms and slipped them behind his neck. He grasped her waist and settled her on his cock. Her head fell back at the fullness of him filling every inch of her.
Instead of letting her move, he simply held her down on him while he locked his gaze on her. Together, suspended in time, she looked deep into his eyes, feeling more connected to him than ever.
The change came over him first. He blinked, reaching between them to rub her clitoris. Unable to hold still, she rode him.
"Wrap your legs around my back." He put his mouth on her neck and sucked hard.
As she locked her ankles, her pussy spasmed. His cock throbbed inside of her. In this position, she couldn't move. She couldn't take any more of him. She had to depend on him to give her pleasure.
"Give it all to me," he said against her skin.
As if the vibration of his words, the heat of his breath in her ear, she let go. Every muscle constricted. All the blood left her head, leaving her disoriented. Her hands tingled, whether from the tie binding her hands or from her approaching climax, she couldn't say. She ground down, rubbing against his fingers that continued to manipulate her pleasure.
She panted in urgency, unable to stop. Then her world exploded. Her thighs clamped down on him. Her head went back, and she screamed his name as her orgasm coursed through her soul.
His hands palmed her hips, forcing her still. Through the racking shudders and sensitivity, she lost control again when his cock pumped his release in her. One hot spurt after another, warming her, filling her.
He sucked in his breath, his eyes locked on her. She laid her forehead against him and hung on.
When they both caught their breath, Serge lifted her off him and laid her down. He untied her hands. "I'll be right back."
Unable to keep her eyes open, she snuggled against the pillow and sighed in contentment. A few minutes later, she became aware of the warmth between her legs. She blinked at Serge, sitting on the edge of the bed, washing and caressing her with a wet washcloth.
Intent on soothing her, she took that moment to watch him. The rollercoaster of emotions he'd taken her on left her more clearheaded. Beyond his fierceness, there was softness and concern in his gaze.
No one had ever taken responsibility for her happiness before. She was afraid he'd never understand how special he was.
He leaned over her lower body. She held her breath, but when he kissed each of the red marks he'd made on her skin, she reached down and slid her fingers through his hair.
"I'm okay," she whispered.
His gaze clouded over. Once again, the curtain concealing his emotions snapped into place. He'd gone somewhere she couldn't reach him.
She moistened her lips. "Come to bed."
Finally settled, wrapped in his arms with her back pressed against his chest, she closed her eyes again. In the dark, she found enough bravery to accept what she wanted. "Serge?"
"Hm?"
"I won't go to the homeless camp again, but I'd like it if you could check on Evie and Sia for me," she whispered.
They had to compromise if they were going to make their relationship work. She couldn't lose him.