Chapter Twelve #3
It takes me a second to place it, that smoky, aching voice—female, rich enough to taste in the air.
I don’t know the movie, but I know the song.
It’s what we heard out on the patio earlier.
Now it fills the room around us, the visuals on the screen showing a woman in what is obviously the Pacific Northwest somewhere.
It’s the kind of sound that makes you think about danger and devotion in the same breath.
Surry sets the remote down, right there in the cup holder, and leans back against the pillows. Her head tilts just enough for her eyes to meet mine. The faint light from the sconces catches the gold in her irises.
“Guess we’ll let that play,” she murmurs.
I nod, throat dry. “Guess we will.”
The song lingers in the air, haunting and slow, wrapping around the space between us until it feels almost alive.
I turn slightly, close enough now to smell the faint trace of her perfume—something soft, like vanilla and smoke.
She shifts toward me, legs brushing mine, her lips parting just slightly.
The air hums. The song swells. My pulse kicks hard against my ribs.
I lean down and turn, just enough to wrap my hands under the soft curve of her ass, feeling the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric as I pull her over to straddle my waist. Her thighs grip me tightly on either side, and I feel the heat of her core against my stomach.
I place my lips onto hers—soft, plump, tasting faintly of cherry—and take full control over her mouth, using my tongue to trace the delicate ridge of her teeth before delving deeper.
We kiss, tongues dancing in a slow, deliberate rhythm, her small gasps vibrating against my lips.
My hands wander from her hips to her waist, fingers splaying across the dip of her lower back, while hers thread through my hair, nails lightly scraping my scalp, discovering one another at a leisurely pace.
I sit up with her still in my lap and flip us over gently, watching her golden hair fan across the white linen of the daybed.
Her skin flushes pink where my hands press against her waist, her breath catching as I lower myself over her.
The curve of her hip fits perfectly into my palm, as if sculpted by an artist who knew exactly what I would crave.
Every inch of her—from the hollow of her throat to the soft dip behind her knee—calls to be traced, tasted, memorized.
When her body arches up to meet mine, the contact ignites something primal between us, like two pieces of a lock finally clicking into place.
“What are you..”
She doesn’t get to finish because I sit forward and place a finger in her mouth, pumping it in and out. Her eyes widen as she explores the finger that has intruded into her.
“Be a good girl and suck. I don’t want to hear you talk unless it’s ‘yes sir’, or your safe word. Which is red. Tap my hand if you understand.”
She reaches up hesitantly and taps the hand that's still thrusting into her mouth. She sucks on it like such a good girl. I stifle a groan as she continues her ministrations on my finger. I wonder what she could do with my dick in her mouth.
“If you need to use your safe word but are unable, two quick taps will also be your safe word, tap me again if you understand.” She once again taps me on the arm.
I use my free hand to start undoing the button of her faded jeans, tugging the zipper down tooth by tooth while my finger continues its rhythm in her mouth. The denim slides over her smooth thighs, taking her black lace underwear with it until both pool on the hardwood floor beside me.
When I withdraw my now slick finger from her mouth, a glistening thread connects us momentarily before breaking.
I trace that wetness down to the pink, swollen bud between her thighs, circling it with deliberate pressure before dipping lower to where she's already molten and waiting.
The sound she makes—half gasp, half moan—vibrates through her body as her head falls back, throat exposed, her weight still balanced on trembling elbows as she stares unseeing at the textured ceiling.
I pump into her a few times before removing my finger and placing it into my own mouth, sucking off the delectable juices she imbues them with.
I place my slick fingers into my mouth, ensuring they are nice and wet before plunging them both into her hot slit.
Surry drops from her elbows onto her back, closing her eyes and enjoying the feeling of me thrusting into her.
Her hands reach above her head, fisting into the soft fabric of the daybed’s comforter that we didn’t bother to move before we sat down.
She moans, and so I take her open mouth as an opportunity to put the fingers on my other hand into her mouth, going down her throat.
Like a good girl, she automatically closes her lips around it, sucking and using her tongue to explore the sides of the intrusion.
I continue fucking two of her holes with both hands as she relaxes more and more into the daybed.
Leaning down, I nibble on her inner thigh, causing her to moan around my finger, so I continue with the bites from knee to inner thigh.
She begins making more noises in her throat—little desperate whimpers that vibrate against my palm—her eyes rolling back until only crescents of emerald remain visible beneath fluttering lashes.
I know she is close. I pick up my speed, slamming my knuckles into her pelvis while my other hand continues forcing its way down the beautiful column of her throat, feeling her pulse hammering wildly against my fingertips.
Before long she arches back, her spine a perfect bow, and moans so loud the sound seems to ricochet off the walls.
I am sure the movie was pointless and our friends know exactly what we're doing in here. But I don't stop. I don't care.
“Good girl, Surry. Come for me.”
She claws at the bed, thrashing and moaning, until she finally begins to come down, and I slow my movements with hers.
She lets go of the bed sheets as I pull both hands out of her mouth and pussy and lies there panting.
I only give her about a five-second reprieve until I can’t contain myself any longer.
I lean down and press my face into her ready center, the heat of her radiating against my lips as I taste her slick arousal.
She wiggles beneath me, her thighs trembling against my shoulders as a breathy moan escapes her parted lips.
I trace slow, deliberate circles with my tongue, savoring the sweet-salt tang of her desire, letting her adjust to the sensation before I dive in fully.
"You taste like honey and sin," I murmur against her tender flesh, my breath hot against her wetness.
"I cannot wait until your scent clings to my skin like a second heartbeat. "
With that, I move lower and place my tongue into her tight channel, and begin to thrust into her with my tongue, curling it up.
If there was ever a time I gave thanks for having such a long tongue, now would be it.
Surry is already clawing at the bed again with one hand, the other in my hair, pulling roughly at the strands she can reach.
“Good girl, Surry. Fuck my face,” I say before I go back down to continue my feast.
She grips my hair tighter and begins maneuvering my face so it slides up and down, up and down. With her free hand, she circles her clit. I swat her hand out of the way.
“Well, if you aren’t going to, then I am,” she throws at me, her voice breathy but commanding. I love this version of Surry.
I nip at her skin, and she lets out an angry-sounding moan.
Oh. So my girl wants a little pain with her pleasure, does she?
I nip some more, working my way up to her clit.
I take it between my teeth and start biting down just enough that I can tell she feels just a spark of pain.
She lets out a moan so loud I know I’ve found it.
I continue to work on her clit, and use my hand to enter her wet pussy once again, finger fucking her until she screams her orgasm to the ether around us.
“Your moans are damn near enough to bring me to my own finish. I want everyone to know how well I worship you.” I grind my hand against her, and curl my fingers up within her while I speak, causing her to cry out in pleasure even louder.
The moment she has finished, I sit up and remove my own clothes before descending on her. I sit her up enough to peel her shirt up and over her head, and remove her bra. Grabbing her hips, I flip her over onto her stomach, welcoming the most beautiful view.
“This perfect ass is all I have been able to think about today, Siren. Your shorts were so short, they possessed my every thought. Did you pick them out on purpose?”
“Yes, sir.” She replies, voice breathy. Coming out as nearly a moan.
“Were you aware that not only would I see your ass, but everyone else in the house?”
“Yes, sir,” she smirked, her tone becoming firmer. “I hoped that it would drive you crazy enough to take me.” She is so evil, I think I’m already falling for her.
“Well, my beautiful, dangerous Siren,” I say before I spit on her tight back entrance,” this will become mine tonight then. Have you ever had anything here before?” I ask her this as I rub my thumb on the entrance, just slightly pushing inward.
She gasps and throws her head back the deeper my thumb enters. “Yes sir, but...” I freeze.
“Tell me,” I demand. I need clarification and triple explicit consent from her now. I am not going to do this unless she tells me to, in all the words.
“I told you I would try and open up. Please don’t ruin this. I want this. In my ass, in my pussy, in my mouth. I want to explore with you. New positions, new places. Please take me.” Her eyes are serious, but still full of lust. I reach down and grab her chin, turning her eyes toward mine.
“Say it again,” I answer.
“I told…”
“Not that,” I interrupt.
“I want you…”
“Good girl.” That’s what I needed.
The movie’s long over. The credits have finished rolling. The only light left comes from the faint blue wash of the screen saver, flickering soft shadows across her bare shoulders.
Surry’s head rests on my chest, her breathing slow but not quite steady—like she’s still trying to come down from more than just what we did.
My arm’s around her, tracing idle lines down her spine, memorizing every quiet tremor of her body, every line of tattoo and scarring.
I noticed that her tattoos are covering up various shaped and sized scars.
I can feel the weight of the words she’s not saying. It’s a tension I know too well—the silence that isn’t peace, it’s fear trying to stay quiet.
“Talk to me, Siren,” I whisper into her hair. “Don’t hold it in. Not with me.”
She’s still for a long moment. Then she exhales, long and shaky.
“It’s not that I don’t want this,” she finally says, her voice barely audible against my skin. “I just… I don’t know how to start something new when the last thing nearly killed me.”
I don’t speak. I just keep tracing her back, letting her pace herself. As long as she is talking, I’m happy to wait.
“My marriage to Gavin was—” she stops, swallows.
“It wasn’t love. Not real love. It was control dressed up as protection.
Everything was a transaction. Every smile, every touch, even the way I breathed felt…
managed. If I said the wrong thing, if I looked at someone too long, he’d find a way to make me regret it. ”
She pauses again. I feel her tense under my hand.
“I left eleven years ago. Since then, I haven’t been with anyone longer than a night. Just… empty things. Things I could leave before they hurt me.”
Her voice cracks. “And then you walked into my life like a hurricane and made it impossible to breathe without feeling something again. And that terrifies me, Brenden. Because if I fall for you, I don’t know if I’ll survive losing you.”
I tighten my hold, pressing my lips against the top of her head. Her words hit hard—not because of what they say about the bastard Gavin, but what they say about her. About how much she’s carried and still somehow shines through it.
“You won’t lose me, Siren,” I say, my voice low. “I’m not him. I won’t cage you. I don’t want your obedience, I want your honesty. Even if it’s messy.” I pause, letting her feel the truth. “Especially if it’s messy.”
She shifts, looking up at me, her eyes glassy but fierce. “Then you’ll get it. All of it. Just… not tonight.”
“I can accept that, Siren. Just be honest, and tell me what you can, when you’re ready,” before reaching down and kissing her temple gently.
We lie there in the quiet, the only sound the soft hum of the screen and our breathing syncing together. I can feel her heartbeat through my chest, steady now, calmer.
After a while, I find myself talking without planning to. “My mom used to say love should never feel like fear.”
Surry lifts her head slightly, eyes searching mine. “She sounds like a wise woman.”
“She was.” I swallow hard, feeling that familiar ache when I think of her. “She… she didn’t get to live by her own words for long.”
She doesn’t ask, but she doesn’t look away either. Her fingers now drawing soft circles against my chest, patient, waiting.
I take a breath, feel it stick in my throat. “She was the first person who ever taught me to fight for peace. Even when it kills you a little to do it.”
Surry’s hand stills, her eyes soft and open. “Tell me about her?”
I nod, staring up at the ceiling, the words coming slow but certain. “Yeah, I’ll tell you.”
The blue light flickers once, fades to black. The screen goes dark, but neither of us move.
And in that darkness, I start to talk. I tell her about my mom, the years of her trying her best, only to fall victim to a bad men more times than I can count, and how ultimately that is how she lost her life.
I explain what Joshua, Corver, and I do outside of Slater Construction, and how we got to this point.
How we know Natasha, how we assume Surry’s father knows us. I tell her everything. Because there is nothing more that I want than for this woman to know me. All of me. The light and the dark. The hard and the easy. I want her to have it all.