Chapter 30
Chapter
Thirty
ASHER
Those first few seconds after I slip inside Anabelle’s pussy must be what heaven feels like. That’s the only thought running through my mind as I rut into her like a wild beast.
Gone are the lingering shadows from my nightmares last night. Gone are the tendrils of the past trying to wrap around me. In their place is Anabelle, who is full of life and light and everything I’ll never be and will never deserve.
And I’m a selfish enough bastard to take what I can get while I can.
She does as instructed, keeping her gaze steady on the two of us.
Her tits bounce with every thrust inside her body, the chain between the clamps dangling.
I know that by now her nipples will be somewhat numb, so I tug on the chain again.
She cries out and looks as though she might close her eyes but stops herself at the last second.
Her ass looks so perfect hanging over the edge of the counter. Like an offering just for me.
“Next time I’m going to fuck your ass like this. Would you like that, pet?”
“Ah, yes, sir.”
I glance down between us and harden even further at the evidence of her arousal coating my cock.
This woman has me so twisted up inside. It’s invigorating and frustrating all at once, and I take it out on her body as I set a punishing pace, not easing up in the least. She takes it all with no complaint, watching in the mirror.
It’s impossible not to look down again and watch her pussy stretch around my girth. The feeling of ownership that I have over her when I’m inside her is concerning, but I can’t stop. I can’t. Anabelle is as necessary as air to me now.
Knowing I can’t hold out much longer, I bring both hands around her body and unclip the nipple clamps. Now that the blood is rushing back into them, I twist her nipples between my thumbs and fingers.
Her back arches, and she cries out in pleasure.
I keep it up, wanting her to experience as much pleasure as possible because she’s close.
When I twist a little harder, I feel the first flutter of her womb around my cock.
Then her back arches even more, and she’s unable to keep her eyes open any longer, closing them as she comes.
Her pussy tries to milk my cock, vibrating around it, and I’m done for.
After a few more thrusts, I pull out, fisting the base.
I jerk my cock until her lower back and ass is coated in my cum.
And then, because she makes me feel proprietary as fuck, I wipe it into her skin as though in doing so, I’m claiming her as mine.
Leaning in, I pull her hair off to one side and kiss the top of her spine, savoring the taste of her skin. “Are you okay?” I murmur against her heated skin.
She nods. “Yeah. That was… intense.”
I raise my head and grin at her in the mirror. “That’s a yes to nipple clamps then.”
Anabelle has the gall to look embarrassed, which is ridiculous after all we’ve done.
I help her up off the counter and turn her to face me. “Come on, let’s have a shower.”
Then I kiss the corner of her brow and take her hand, leading her to the walk-in shower that could easily fit fifteen people.
Once the water is up to temperature, I pull her in under the spray.
She moans when the warm water hits her skin, and my dick twitches, ready for another round.
But her pussy must be sore after that pounding, so it’ll just have to calm the fuck down.
Reaching for the shampoo, I tell her, “Turn around.”
Even though we’re done playing, she does as I say, ever obedient when it comes to me. I squirt some shampoo in my hand and lather it in her hair, rubbing her scalp and making sure I get it all the way down the length of her hair.
She looks at me over her shoulder. “I’m going to smell like you now.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Is that a bad thing?”
She shakes her head. “I like the way you smell.”
Anabelle says the sweetest, most innocent things sometimes. She’s too honest for her own good. It’s going to get her in trouble or put her at risk someday.
“Rinse out now.”
She goes back under the spray until the water runs clear around our feet. I repeat the exercise with conditioner, finger combing it through.
“Thank you for sharing everything you did with me.” Her voice is quieter than normal, as though she’s hoping maybe I can’t hear her, but she can’t go without telling me because it means a lot to her.
I still for a beat, pausing before I resume combing through her hair. “I’ve never spoken to anyone about it. Even my brothers and I rarely speak of what happened growing up.”
There’s really no explanation for why I told Anabelle, other than it felt like the right thing to do. I trust her, I suppose.
“Do you think that’s healthy? Maybe you guys should discuss it more. Bring it into the light rather than letting it fester in the shadows. Perhaps it would help you guys heal.”
I don’t think there is any healing from what we went through, but I don’t tell Anabelle that. I don’t ever want her to know how dark the world can be. She may not have had a perfect life, but she’s untarnished compared to me.
“Perhaps,” is all I say on that subject. “How do you feel about playing hooky today?”
She spins around to face me. “Really?”
I chuckle. “Really. I know the boss and can probably swing it.”
She smiles wide. Just the reaction I was looking for. “What would we do?”
“Have you ever been horseback riding?”
“I’m no expert, but I can hold my own if you put me on a gentle horse.”
I twist the ends of her long hair in my hand then lean in for a kiss. “Let’s finish this and get you saddled up then.”
Mrs. Potter outdid herself. I survey the food spread over the blanket where we stopped to let the horses graze while we eat the picnic I had asked her to prepare under the shade of a tree. I saw the gleam in Mrs. Potter’s eye when I told her what I needed it for, but I ignored it.
She’s about the only person I would tolerate telling me I need to find someone special, and she thinks that Anabelle is going to be it, but that’s not what this is.
I might have already crossed some lines with her—fucking her outside of the sex club nights, inviting her into my bed—but there will be no fairy tale happy ever after for us.
“Have you been riding ever since you were a little boy?” Anabelle asks before popping a grape into her mouth.
“Yeah, I’ve always been pretty solitary. I liked riding far from the manor and exploring the grounds when I was younger. Until I was shipped off to boarding school as a teen.”
“Did you spend all of high school there?”
I nod, still chewing some of the bean salad Mrs. Potter packed for us. “In Europe. I hated having to go, having to leave my brothers and my mom to fend for themselves against my father, but at the same time, a part of me was happy to be away from him. I felt guilty about that.”
She takes my hand. “You shouldn’t. You were a child, and I think that’s a normal reaction.”
I tug on the end of her ponytail. “Are you sure you’re only twenty-two? So wise beyond your years.”
She tosses a grape at me, and I duck so it hits the grass behind us. “It really bothers you, doesn’t it?”
My forehead creases. “What does?”
“The difference in our ages.”
“Doesn’t it bother you?”
She shakes her head. “Not at all. It’s just a number. Who cares?”
“Me apparently.” I bring the fork to my mouth and take another bite of the salad.
“What bothers you so much about it?” Her head tilts.
“Do you ever stop asking questions?” My hands pull at a blade of grass.
“Nope.” She pops the P.
“I already have control issues around sex. The fact that I find someone so much younger than I am to be such a turn-on makes me feel a little like a dirty old man. There, happy now?” I arch an eyebrow, trying to whistle the blade of grass.
“Maybe I like dirty old men.” She drops her voice and says it in a way that makes me think she just might.
“Don’t start.” I narrow my eyes.
“What, I’m just saying.” She bats her eyelashes as though she’s so fucking innocent.
“You know exactly what you’re doing, and unless you want to end up over my lap with me smacking your bare ass for all of mother nature to see, you’ll stop.”
She grins then bites a grape. “Maybe that’s exactly what I’m hoping for.”
I shake my head at her, amused. “You’re relentless.”
“Relentless is what you were when you were pounding into me earlier.”
“Jesus Christ. Let’s talk about something else.” I toss the blade of grass and set the salad aside, no longer hungry because right now, it’s taking everything in me not to pounce on her and make her scream my name by way of my cock.
“All right. There is something I want to talk to you about, but I don’t want you to think I’m pressuring you or that I expect something.”
I nod for her to continue. “Go on.”
“What does this mean for us? You said we were only going to have sex in the basement, but that’s obviously not the case now. Does that mean it’s open season?”
At least she didn’t ask me what it means for us as far as a relationship goes. Being each other’s fuck buddies and sometimes-confidants is one thing, but a relationship… no. It’s too risky.
“What do you want it to mean?” I may be the one who controls the scene while we’re fucking, but it’s not like she gets no say.
“You know what I want. I want to be able to sleep with you whenever and wherever we want.”
I hold back a laugh because she doesn’t want to say the word fuck, though she says worse when she’s heated. “Just sleep?”
She throws her hands in the air. “Fine, I want you to fuck me. I want you to tell me what you want me to do, and I want to please you by doing it. I want to be your little pet.”
It takes every bit of my restraint not to lunge at her and take her right here after that statement, and based on the grin on her face, she knows what she did.
“Fine then. Our physical relationship is no longer just for the basement. Satisfied?”
She sets her food aside and crawls toward me. “Not yet, but you can help with that.”
This woman will be the death of me. I’m going to become an addict if I don’t practice some restraint.
I gently push her back with a hand to her shoulder. “Eat. There’ll be plenty of time for that later.”
She pouts but does as I ask.
While we eat in silence for a few moments, I ponder the change in the rules and wonder if I’m making a mistake. We’re already fucking, so what’s the big deal if we do it more than we planned? It’s not as if we’ll be spending every night in each other’s bed.
Sleeping together feels too intimate. It implies more than I want this to be. Sure, she slept in my bed last night, but that was due to extenuating circumstances. It can’t become a regular thing.
The lines are already blurry enough. I don’t need to take an eraser to them.