Chapter 35 #2
His fingers find my folds, and I can’t help but let out another gasp as my body turns to a slop of sparkling tingles.
He moves his fingers slowly, but they’re firm and thick, filling me.
He teases my insides with every firm thrust, and I have to bite my lip really hard to keep quiet.
He's fucking with my impatience, and I think he knows.
“Rye,” I whisper, my voice shaky as fuck. “Please.” He pulls on my hair hard enough that I arch my back, a sting of pleasure rippling through me.
"I want to see your face when I own you with my cock so deep inside you you forget you were never mine.
" He whips me around like a flimsy doll, propping me on the counter.
My legs wrap around him, and he takes no time, the tip of his glistening cock at my entrance.
He teases my clit, my slit wet, ready, waiting as the heat inside me roars.
His lips land on mine when he finally enters me and... holy, fucking, hell. The fire inside me erupts, my body tingling when he sinks himself fully inside me.
He takes over my system, pleasure rolling through me. I press my lips harder into his as I try to fight my moans, his first thrusts hard, maddening, claiming. And when he finds his rhythm, I hope he never stops.
“You’re right,” I gasp between his thrusts, my nails clawing at his back, my legs tightening around him. “I fucking love it when you control me.” My head falls back, one hand sinking my nails into his skin, the other gripping the edge of the counter.
“I know,” he growls. His pace quickening, his thrusts hard. Deep. Perfect. “I fucking know.” Our sweat makes our bodies stick together, the room turning into a sauna.
“Harder,” I beg. “Please.” He’s a better listener than I thought, putting his all into his thrusts, his skin slapping against mine. “Fuuuck, yes!”
His hand slaps over my mouth.
“You’re so defiant. So reckless,” he groans, his hand caressing my face.
“You’ll always give me a reason to lose control.
You’ll always give me a reason to ruin myself.
” He keeps thrusting hard into me as he reaches over to the cutlery drawer.
He slams his hand around, forks and spoons clattering to the floor.
Then he pulls out a knife, the edge glistening in the light.
“I’ll ruin you first, Kitten. Always.” His thrusts become more intoxicating when he presses that blade against my neck. “But that’s what you want. Isn’t it?”
The knife against my skin brings me back to the gallery. The dean's office. The skate. It always does something to me. Something I can't explain, but he understands.
"We can’t keep-fuck…” It’s hard to keep quiet and respond at the same time when he’s so deep inside me, I’m seeing Pluto. “We can’t keep ruining ourselves.”
“I want to ruin you forever.” His words make my insides tingle, his thrusts getting firmer.
He drags that blade to my hardened nipples, my breasts bouncing hard with each thrust. He has me right on the edge, and I’m losing my fucking mind.
“Tell me you don’t want that, too.” He lowers the knife to my thigh, pressing harder until I feel a small sting. “Go on. Lie to me.”
“More.” I can feel myself tightening around his cock. I can feel myself falling apart. My body. My words. My heart. “I want more.”
The knife clatters to the floor, his lips crashing down on mine as his pace quickens. Frantic and ravaging. “Fuck, you take me so well,” he groans, his forehead falling against mine. I meet his eyes, and everything inside me electrifies. “You’re making me lose it, Hannah."
“Don’t be an idiot.” The room keeps spinning, the walls disappearing. The sweat on his forehead glistens; his chiselled cheeks reddening. His eyes look as determined as his thrusts feel. “Make me yours.”
“Say that again.” His eyes linger on mine, like we’re on some fucked up drug. We’re mesmerized by each other, but we’re completely fucking sober, yet completely fucked. “I love the sound of you being mine.”
Fuck. What the fuck?
Why does that make my entire body shake?
Why does that make me feel like I'm floating?
“You’re almost there,” he encourages me. “Let it go, Kitten.”
“Not without you.” My legs tighten around him, keeping him close as I'm right on the edge. I fight it. I fight that release so fucking hard I’m going numb, but I know what I want. “Not without you.”
“Fuuuck, Hannah!” I feel him throb, I feel him harden, and that’s it. That’s what takes me right over the edge.
“Please, Rye,” I whisper against his ear. “Please, I want it all.” I cling to his body as I meet my release. It’s zombifying as my body comes alive, my thighs tightening against his hard body.
He lets go, too, sending my brain on another spiral as he fills me with his release.
He groans against my face while I ride that sweet orgasm until the very last moment.
Until we’re both left gasping for air. Until our bodies sink into each other.
Until we’re looking at each other like absolute fucking idiots.
We stay in our warm goop of a mess, his head pressed to mine, as we catch our breath. I can’t breathe. I can’t speak. I want to ask if he meant what he said or if it was just horned-up bullshit. But that’s when he places his lips against my forehead, and it shatters me entirely.
When he lowers his lips to kiss me again, soft, tender, like he’ll take care of me forever, I know there’s no going back. Not this time.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”
His croaky voice comes from behind me. It's something I can get used to hearing every morning.
Rye reaches for my hand before my feet even touch the floor. Feeling at home at the Rowens feels surreal. Of all the places I’ve tried to belong, I didn’t think I’d fit here.
“I’m not done with you," he croaks.
“What more could you possibly give me, right now?” It was bound to happen.
I’m not sure how many times we’ve made each other see gods last night, and this morning.
It wasn’t until the sun pushed through his velvet curtains that we crashed into each other’s arms and fell asleep.
“You’ve left me parched, and hydration is the base of this flawless skin.
” I let my hand linger in his, my eyes raking his body sprawled across the bed.
Even facedown, he looks like he’s on the cover of a magazine. His silk sheets drape over his body, those muscles still on display. Just for me.
“You saying I’ve left you thirsty?” He brings my hand to his soft lips as a grumble comes from my stomach. He catches it, my cheeks flushing. “And famished?”
“Not the best treatment for your guest,” I tease, sliding my hand out of his hold. Grabbing his shirt from the floor, I slip it over my head, the soft cotton soothing my skin.
“You’re not a guest. Not here.” That feeling fills me again.
Warmth. Tightness. Tingles. But before I can ask what that means, he grabs his phone, tapping on the screen.
“And I’ll have Antoine’s eclairs at our door in twenty.
” He tosses his phone to the side, popping one eye open towards me.
“What? You’re predictable. Your favourite snack hasn’t changed in years.
You deserve a good morning. You've had some tough ones. "
“Is that an apology?” I ask, hiding my smile.
“Bribery.” He positions himself on one elbow, the sheet slipping down to reveal those abs.
Turning around, I move back to the bed, where he lets me push him on his back so I can climb on top of him, straddling him. “It’s going to take so much more than some pastries to apologize to me, don’t you think?” He stares at me with that darkness in his eyes, and now, I let him pull me in.
“I agree.” He leans up, pressing his lips to mine. I let myself get lost in him, that rush flowing through me, filling me. Warmth. Heat. Fire. We part, and he looks at my face like I'm a piece of precious jewelry. “Hurry up and get that pretty face hydrated so I can continue making it up to you.”
“Yes, sir,” I mock with a smirk he matches.
Could I be figuring out how to get a new internship? Could I be figuring out how the rest of my life looks? Could I be plotting revenge on a certain friend group who never had my back? Yes, yes, and yes. But right now, there’s nowhere else I'd rather be. And I want to bask in that.
A girl deserves it.
“The pastries will be here in ten, so you have exactly that to get my ass.” And boy does he grab a handful. “Back here.” With one last world-shattering kiss, he lifts me off him, helping me to the floor. “Don’t keep me waiting.”
The air in the Rowen mansion is warm when I make my way down the hall. It’s a different kind of lavish compared to my parents' mansion. The Rowens’ home is newer. Sharper. But you can still feel the history in these walls.
Passing by a portrait of his family, my feet slow, his father staring right at me. His mother is next to him with that disappointed look on her face. We’re all fighting our battles in Paradise, but it’s like we all choose to ignore it.
Don’t keep me waiting.
A smile spreads across my face as I crave his body on mine again. Is this really a thing? Could this really work? Or are we just sitting in some post-war glow that’ll eventually fade?
My bare feet slow when I approach the entrance of the kitchen, the lights dim.
Krystal sits on a stool in front of the island with a bottle of gin next to her, her back turned to me. Her dark hair is wet like she just showered or walked through the rain.
“You’re awake,” I say, moving to one of the sleek black cupboards.
My cheeks burn when I remember I’m in her brother’s shirt, my hair a mess, smelling like him.
Did she hear everything? I mention the bottle, trying to keep it casual.
“On the Paradise diet this morning?” Flipping the little tap for the water next to the sink, a stream comes out as I glance behind me.
A knife sits in Krystal’s hand, shining under the dimmed lights above the island.
In front of her is a framed photo of her father.
“Do you ever feel like you’re broken?” Krystal finally asks. Turning around, I lean against the counter. She doesn’t lift her head, keeping her eyes on that photo. “Or like your body forgot how to react like a normal human?”
“All the time.” Taking a sip, I let the cold water wash down my parched throat. “Why?”
“I didn’t feel anything when our dad died.” Then she laughs, taking a swig out of the bottle. “That’s a lie. I felt relief. And I can’t help it but… I think his death and this scandal were for the better.”
I take a minute to answer, her words lingering in the air.
“I know being without my parents is for the better, too.” My heart still breaks when I think about them.
When I think about my mother. I’ll never be in their good graces after what happened.
I’ve also never felt as calm in my home as I do in the Rowens’, which makes me wonder.
Was I ever truly home before? “Sometimes you try so hard to fit in, you forget it’s an act. ”
Krystal lifts her head. “Didn’t a Playboy bunny say that?”
“Yeah, and she’s worth millions.”
That gets a small laugh and a momentary glance.
“Do you think he feels relief? Like…” Krystal takes another drink from the bottle.
“Like if there’s an afterlife?” Then another.
“He didn’t look at us with love. I don’t even think he liked us.
He only had expectations.” Her brows knit before she lets out another small laugh.
“He definitely never looked at our mother the way Ryung looks at you.”
It’s hard to ignore the tingle in my chest, hearing her words. “If there is an afterlife, I think he feels more relief there than my father does here.” Another soft smile flickers on Krystal's face before it fades again. “Will you release a statement?”
I don’t remember seeing anything about his death since it happened. While families in The Hill like to keep things as under wraps as possible, Andrew Rowen wasn’t just some dude.
Krystal snorts. “We didn’t even bury him.”
“He doesn’t deserve it.” Rye’s voice comes from the entrance, and when I look towards it, he stands with a pink box in his hands, his eyes on me.