Chapter 13 #2
“Maybe you've been a bad influence on me,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest. The movement pushes her breasts together, and I force my gaze back to her face.
“Oh, I've definitely been a bad influence,” I agree, stepping closer to her. “And I plan on being an even worse one before I'm done with you.”
She doesn't back away when I crowd her space. Instead, she tilts her chin up, defiant and beautiful in her nakedness.
“Is that a promise?”
“Baby, that's a guarantee.” I reach out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, letting my fingers linger on her cheek. “You sure about this, though? About your dad?”
The playfulness dims slightly, replaced by something more serious. “Yeah,” She leans into my touch. “I’m done living my life to someone else’s standards.”
“Even if it's me you're not hiding?”
She steps closer, completely unashamed of her nakedness. “The entire town already knows I rode off with you last night. It's not exactly a secret anymore, so there’s no reason to start hiding now.”
“Fuck,” I breathe out, something expanding in my chest. Something volatile. Something that feels too much like hope. “You’re something else, you know that?”
“Is that good or bad?” she asks, a hint of vulnerability slipping through her bravado.
“It’s exactly what I wanted to hear,” I tell her—and it’s the truth. I draw her into my arms, her warmth settling against my chest. “Say it again.”
“What part?” Her hands slide up my arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake.
“The part where you don't give a fuck what anyone thinks.”
She grins up at me, wicked and beautiful. “I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks.” The curse rolls off her tongue with the ease of someone who’s been saying it her whole life, not just since I pulled her onto my bike.
“Christ, hearing you swear does things to me,” I growl, my hands finding her hips, squeezing hard enough to make her gasp.
She knows exactly what she’s doing, standing there naked and unashamed, full of fire. My fire.
I walk her backward until the backs of her thighs hit the edge of the bed. She lets me guide her, never breaking eye contact. That mouth of hers—defiant, dirty, irresistible—is parted slightly like she’s waiting for what comes next.
“You know what else I want to hear from that mouth?” I ask.
She tilts her head, playing innocent. “What?”
I lean in close, letting her feel the heat of my breath against her ear. “I want to hear what you sound like when your dirty little mouth is put to work.”
She shivers, just slightly, but doesn't flinch. Doesn't back down.
“On what?” she asks, soft and sharp at the same time.
I grip her jaw gently, tilting her face toward mine. “On me.”
Her lips part, a flush creeping across her chest, and I feel her pulse pick up beneath my fingers. She’s breathing faster, but her gaze never drops. That’s what makes her irresistible.
“You gonna kneel for me, Cece?” I murmur, letting one hand trail down her body, slow and deliberate. “Gonna show me just how unholy that mouth of yours can be?”
Her breath hitches. “Only if you ask nicely.”
I let out a low, humorless chuckle, my thumb brushing the corner of her mouth. “There’s nothing gentle about what I want from you right now.”
She bites her lip, then sinks to her knees in front of me without another word.
Her knees hit the floor with a soft thud, and I swear I forget how to breathe. And fuck me, nothing in my life has ever looked more like worship.
I've seen women on their knees before, plenty of them, but never like this. Never with that look in their eyes.
She holds my gaze as her fingers find my zipper, tugging it down with deliberate slowness. I should help her, should hurry this along, but I'm transfixed by the sight of her kneeling before me like I'm worth the sin.
“You just gonna stare?” she asks.
“Maybe.” I reach down, threading my fingers through her hair. “Maybe I enjoy seeing you this way.”
She smiles, wicked and sweet all at once. “And here I thought you wanted my mouth busy with something other than talking.”
“Oh, I do.” I tighten my grip on her hair, just enough to make her gasp. “But don't rush. We've got time.”
Her eyes flicker with something—surprise, maybe. Like she expected me to be all demand and no patience, she doesn't know yet that I could watch her for hours, tracing every freckle, every scar, every perfect imperfection of her.
She tugs my jeans down, along with my boxers, and I spring free, already hard enough to hurt. Yeah, she remembers what it felt like inside her.
“Go on,” I murmur. “Show me what that mouth can do besides talk back.”
She licks her lips, a nervous gesture that makes my cock twitch. Then she leans forward, gaze still locked on mine, and wraps her lips around the head.
Holy fucking Christ. I’ve never prayed a day in my life, but fuck, I may start now.
I hiss through my teeth, my hand tightening in her hair. Wet, hot suction envelops me, and it takes everything I have not to thrust forward, to take what I want. But I force myself to stay still, to let her set the pace.
She starts slow, tentative, almost as if she's relearning something forgotten. I wonder briefly if that dickhead ex-husband of hers ever let her do this, or if he was too concerned with propriety to let his wife get on her knees. The thought makes a deep, possessive pull stir inside me.
“That's it,” I encourage, watching as she takes me deeper. “Just like that.”
She makes a little humming sound, pleased with herself, and the vibration sends a jolt straight to my core. I let my head fall back, a groan escaping my throat as she grows bolder, taking more of me, her tongue exploring with growing confidence.
“Fuck,” I breathe, looking down to watch her. The sight nearly undoes me—her lips stretched around my cock. “Look at me.”
Her eyes open, meeting mine. I cup her cheek with my free hand, feeling the movement of my cock inside her mouth. “That's it, baby. You're taking me so good.”
She moans around me, and I feel her hand come up to grip my thigh, steadying herself as she takes me deeper. The other wraps around what she can't fit in her mouth, working me in rhythm with her lips.
“Jesus Christ,” I hiss. “Where'd you learn to do that?”
She pulls back, just enough to speak, her lips shiny and swollen. “Maybe I'm a natural.”
The sass, even now, makes me laugh—a strained, desperate sound. “Get back to work, princess.”
She grins up at me, all wicked innocence, before taking me in again, deeper this time.
Her tongue swirls around the head, teasing the sensitive spot underneath, and I feel my control slipping.
My hips jerk forward involuntarily, pushing deeper into her mouth.
She doesn't pull away—takes it, adjusts, even with tears streaking down her face.
“Fuck, I'm sorry,” I mutter, trying to hold still.
She pulls back just enough to say, “Don't be,” before taking me again, deeper, her hand guiding my hip now. Encouraging.
Holy shit. She wants it. Wants me to let go.
I tighten my grip in her hair, testing. “You sure about this?”
Her answer is to relax her throat, taking me even deeper, and I swear I see stars. I start to move, careful at first, shallow thrusts that have her humming around me. When she doesn't pull back, I get bolder, setting a rhythm that has us both breathing hard.
“Look at you,” I groan, watching her take me. “The preacher's daughter, on her knees for a man like me.”
She moans her answer. She likes it. Likes the reminder of who she is, who I am, how wrong this should be. My perfect, filthy angel.
“You like that, don't you?” I growl. “Knowing what your daddy would say if he could see you now.”
She moans around me, and I feel her free hand slip between her own legs.
Fuck. She's touching herself while she sucks me off.
The sight of her touching herself while I'm in her mouth is too much.
I've never been a religious man, but watching Cece get herself off while taking my cock down her throat?
That's a kind of worship I can get behind.
But as good as her mouth feels, as much as I want to finish right there between those now swollen lips, I want something else more.
I want to send her back to her father's house with a reminder of exactly who she belongs to now.
I want her walking through that sanctimonious house with my cum sliding down her thighs.
I pull back suddenly, yanking her up by her hair. Her eyes are glazed, lips swollen and wet. She looks confused, bereft.
“Brayden?” she questions.
“Get on the bed,” I growl, already manhandling her up. “Hands and knees.”
She scrambles onto the mattress, assuming the position without hesitation, looking back at me over her shoulder. Her ass is raised, presenting herself to me like an offering.
“Like this?” she asks, and there's a teasing note in her voice that makes me want to spank her.
So I do. My palm connects with her right cheek, the sharp crack echoing in the room. She gasps softly, her posture shifting in response.
“Exactly like that,” I tell her. I position myself behind her, running my hands along the curves of her ass. She looks breathtaking in this moment—spine bending with confidence, hair cascading over her shoulders, daring me with nothing more than her gaze to ruin her.
“You ready for me, princess?” I ask, lining myself up against her entrance. She's already slick, already wanting.
“Yes,” she breathes, pushing back against me. “Please, Brayden.”
I push into her with one smooth thrust, bottoming out inside her. The tight heat of her nearly undoes me right there. She gasps, fingers clutching at the sheets as she adjusts to the sudden fullness.
“Fuck, you feel good,” I groan, gripping her hips hard enough to leave marks.
I start moving, setting a punishing pace that has her moaning with each thrust. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mixed with her breathless cries and my own rough grunts.
I reach up and thread my fingers through her hair, tugging just enough to tilt her head back. I need to see her—really see her.
The flushed cheeks.
The parted lips.
The unfiltered want in her eyes.
The sight of her like that—open, wrecked, meeting me with the same intensity I’m giving her—nearly undoes me.
“You like being fucked from behind like an animal by a man your daddy would call the devil himself?” I growl, driving deeper.
“Yes,” she moans, the word broken and desperate. “God, yes.”
I slam into her harder, watching her face contort with pleasure. There's something fucking beautiful about her coming undone on my cock, begging for more, taking everything I give her. Her skin is flushed pink, her lips parted, eyes half-closed in ecstasy.
“Touch yourself,” I command. “I want to feel you come around me.”
She obeys without hesitation, one hand snaking beneath her to find her clit. I feel the exact moment she touches herself—her walls clench around me, a broken moan escaping her throat. The feel of her pleasuring herself while I drive into her from behind is almost enough to push me over the edge.
But I hold back. I want to feel her come apart first.
“Take it,” I growl, slapping her ass again, harder this time. “Take all of it.”
She's close—I can feel her walls fluttering around me, her body shaking beneath my hands. I lean over her, one hand braced beside her head, the other snaking around to replace hers, my fingers finding her clit.
“Oh God,” she gasps. “Brayden, I'm going to—”
“Do it,” I demand, circling her clit faster, matching the rhythm of my thrusts. “Come for me. Let me feel it.”
She shatters with a cry that sounds like salvation, her body clenching around me, milking me for all I'm worth. The sight of her coming undone beneath me, because of me, pushes me over the edge. I drive into her one last time, burying myself to the hilt as I empty inside her with a guttural groan.
For a moment, we stay frozen, both of us panting. Then her arms give out, and she collapses onto the mattress. I follow her down, careful not to crush her, my body still joined with hers.
“Holy shit,” she breathes, her words muffled by the pillow.
I chuckle against her shoulder, pressing a kiss to the damp skin there. “Yeah.”
I roll off her, careful not to hurt her as I collapse onto the mattress beside her. She turns her head to look at me, her cheek still pressed against the pillow, hair a tangled mess across her face. There's something so goddamn perfect about her like this, thoroughly fucked, glowing, mine.
“I don't think I can walk,” she mumbles, a lazy smile spreading across her face.
“Good.” I reach out, brushing her hair away from her face. “That was the plan.”
She laughs, the sound soft and unguarded. “You're terrible.”
“And yet, here you are.”
“Here I am,” she agrees, turning onto her side to face me properly. Her eyes search mine, suddenly serious.
For a long moment, neither of us speaks. The room feels smaller, quieter. The only sound is her breathing.
Her fingers drift along the edge of one of my tattoos, tracing the curve of ink as though she’s trying to learn me through touch alone. “What happens now?” she whispers.
I could tell her the truth—that I don’t know. That people in my world don’t get to hold on to good things. That morning light has a way of burning down anything that feels right once the dark is gone.
But I can’t make myself say any of it.
Instead, I catch her hand and press a kiss to her knuckles. “Now, you sleep. Let the world wait for once.”
She studies me for another heartbeat, then nods, her lashes lowering as she settles back against me. Within moments, her breathing evens out, her body softening into mine.
I stay awake, staring at the cracked ceiling, her scent still lingering on my skin. The sun creeps through the blinds, painting stripes across the tangled sheets, across her shoulder, across me.
And for the first time in longer than I can remember, I don’t feel the urge to run.