Chapter 7 #2
I let my other hand slide up the rigid length of him, slow, teasing, dragging my nails along the base just to watch his abs tighten.
Then, finally, I taste him.
My tongue flicks over the head, a slow, tempting lick, and his reaction is instant. A groan escapes him, deep and satisfied. A smirk still plays at the corner of his mouth, but I can see the shift in his eyes.
I keep my gaze locked on his, never breaking eye contact, watching him watch me as I drag my tongue along the length of his cock.
His breathing changes. His jaw clenches, like he's barely keeping himself restrained.
On the outside, he might look controlled, calculated, but I can feel the tension building inside him. The pressure. The desperation.
I lick him again, slowly, circling the tip with my tongue, pulling him further into my mouth.
He inhales deeply, his chest rising, releasing a long, almost controlled breath. His fingers tangle in my wet hair.
He's holding back, but he won't be doing that for long.
"Play with yourself, Adora."
His voice is rough, strangled, but a clear command.
"I want to see your fingers between your thighs."
A shiver rips through me.
I obey, it would be impossible not to.
My free hand slides down between my legs, fingers slipping through my slick pussy. I moan around his cock, the sound vibrating through him, making his muscles twitch, his lips parting on a silent gasp.
His eyes flash with something wild. He wants more.
"Finger yourself. Three."
A fucking order.
He's always liked this. Controlling my pleasure. Owning my body. I do as I'm told, slipping three fingers inside, gasping as the pleasure spikes.
Too much. Not enough.
I swirl my tongue over the head of his cock, sucking harder, taking him deeper.
He groans, his hips jerking forward, unable to hold back.
"Your clit. Play with it."
His voice is a dark rasp, barely more than a breath.
My fingers find that perfect spot, and the second I touch it lightning strikes, making me moan around him again.
His fingers tighten in my hair. The control he's clinging to finally snaps.
He grips my hair harder, forcing my head still, dragging himself out of my mouth.
I whimper at the loss, but before I can complain, his mouth crashes down on mine. The kiss is slow and deep, but oh, so brutal.
His teeth scrape my lips, his fingers pinching and twisting one of my nipples, making my body arch against him.
"Keep playing with yourself. I want to see you come apart with my cock inside your defiant mouth," he whispers, his breath hot against my skin.
I don't have time to react before he straightens, and shoves himself back between my lips.
His grip tightens, forcing my head back, angling my neck just how he wants it. He breaks completely, fucking my mouth like he owns it. Like I'm just his to use, his personal fuck toy.
And I fucking love it.
I lose myself in the way he takes, the way he groans, curses, grips my hair so tight I feel my scalp stinging.
His muscles lock, his thighs tremble, his breath stutters as he edges closer, closer, closer...
I shatter before him. A single swipe over my clit and I’m gone. I convulse around my own fingers, moaning around his cock, taking him deeper as my body locks, my vision flashing white.
He curses, his jaw going slack, his body tensing… and he's gone too.
His come spills across my tongue, hot and thick, his body shaking, his head tilting back as he lets go completely.
I don't move. Because I know what he wants next. What he always wanted before, too.
And I'm right.
He pulls out of my mouth, his fingers gripping my cheeks, forcing my mouth open.
His voice is quiet, edged with satisfaction.
"Tongue."
I stick it out, slowly, and he smiles lazily. Possessively.
"Good girl."
Fuck, I could come again just from that. From the way he looks at me.
His thumb drags over my lower lip, slow and deliberate, before he straightens.
"Swallow it all, Adora."
I listen and I do. I fucking do. My body isn't mine when he looks at me like that.
He helps me up, steadying me, watching me, something unreadable in his dark eyes.
I don't say anything because I don't want to shatter the moment. I don't even know what the fuck just happened between us. I just know I don't want it to end. I don't want to go back to that cold cell. I don't want to go back to a place where he only visits me to bring torment and mind games.
I turn my back to him and turn on the water, trying to avoid the moment of truth for as long as possible.
Ghost
My entire plan just went to shit. One fucking taste of her, and that was it. Gone. Fucked. Straight to hell.
I grip her, dragging her back against my chest, her bare skin pressed to mine, her body still trembling from the wreckage we both brought upon ourselves. I drop my forehead against her shoulder, my breath coming hard, uneven, fucking desperate.
I should let go. But I don't. I can't.
My hand spans the curve of her ribs, my thumb moving absently, soothing over the soft skin. She leans into me, silent, letting me hold her.
And that's the fucking problem. Because this is not how it was supposed to go. I was supposed to break her. I was supposed to watch her shatter, make her crawl, destroy her piece by piece until there was nothing left of the girl I used to love.
Instead, I’m standing here, holding her, feeling her heartbeat slow under my palm.
For the first time in thirteen fucking years, I feel something other than rage. Other than darkness. It's something worse. Because I should have seen it coming. I should have known it was only a matter of time before she got inside my head again.
I felt it creeping in before, in the cell. But of course, I thought I was strong enough to resist. Because I forgot how fucking addictive she is. How her touch used to dispel the darkness inside me even back then. I thought she wouldn't have that power anymore.
But I was wrong, and I am so fucking done for.
I can feel it deep in the marrow of my bones.
Fuck!
Bones!
He's going to lose his fucking mind when he finds out about this. Especially that we fucked.
I need a new plan. A better one. A smarter one. Something that keeps me from falling straight into the fucking trap she doesn't even know she's setting.
"Let's go to bed," I murmur against her skin, my voice muffled. "We'll talk tomorrow."
She nods. Still silent. Still letting me hold her.
I press my lips to her shoulder. Soft, slow, barely a kiss. Then I straighten, pulling myself together, forcing logic, forcing fucking control.
We wash each other, and it’s comforting in a strange way. Her hands explore me, and mine do the same to her.
It's too fucking quiet between us.
Before we leave the shower, her fingers spread over my chest.
I still.
She wants to say something, but she doesn't know how to ask. Then, slowly, she looks up, and I see the worry behind her eyes. The question.
"No more dungeon, Adora." My voice is low, rough. A whispered promise.
Because the dungeon part is over. I can't go back to that plan. I need to calm my fucking thoughts and figure out what the hell happens next.
We step out together. I pat her dry, wrapping a towel around her before leading her into my bedroom. And it's only when I stop near the bed that I realize how much I just fucked myself over. Because this entire house will smell like her now. The sheets. The walls. Everything.
Years of planning, waiting, hunting, wasted in one second. Because she still fucking lives under my skin in a way that she shouldn't.
I sigh, dragging a hand through my wet hair.
I need control. I need distance. I need to fucking think.
Instead, I turn to her and break the silence first.
"You know the rules. No clothes in bed."
She smiles, just a little. A sad, nostalgic kind of smile.
"Yeah. I remember." She rolls her eyes at me. "And I also don't have any clothes, duh."
I move closer, my hand curling around the side of her throat. Her pulse jumps beneath my thumb.
"Things changed tonight, Adora," I murmur. "But that doesn't mean you can leave. Yet."
I look straight into her eyes, making sure she hears me, understands me and accepts it.
"Don't try anything stupid, thinking I'm asleep. You know you won't be able to."
Her lips press together, and she nods once. "Yeah, I know. I won't try anything, I promise.”
"Good."
I study her, the way she chews on the inside of her cheek, something itching behind her expression. I see the exact moment she can't help herself.
"We didn't use protection," she finally blurts.
I lift an eyebrow, unimpressed. "You have an implant."
Her eyes go wide, and her lips part slowly. "How the hell do you know that? That's private medical information!"
She crosses her arms, and my gaze instantly drops to her tits. Perfect. Perky. Mine. I didn't get to play with them tonight as much as I wanted.
She snaps her fingers in front of my face.
"Hello! You're having a conversation with me, not my nipples!" Her voice is fake outrage, playful despite herself.
I finally drag my eyes back up, smirking. "I know everything about you, Adora."
I pause, watching the way her chest rises, the way she waits for my next words like she's dreading them.
"You don't just kidnap someone and hope for the best. That no one comes looking. You prepare. So I prepared. With every piece of information I could get my hands on. Therefore, I know you have an implant. I also know you're clean."
I pause, my lips pressing together at the realization that crawls up my spine.
"Which is good, because, honestly, even if you had something, I probably would have been too far gone to stop," I whisper to myself, but she hears me.
Her brows pull together.
She notices. She notices that I said too much. Fuck!
"I know I'm clean!" she huffs. "Are you? With the number of clubgirls you're sharing with your brothers..." Her voice trails off. I see the shudder pass through her. The horror.
I smile, wide and slow.
"You are so fucking adorable." I pause and let the moment stretch, making her wonder if I'm about to fuck with her. "I'm clean, too. No worries there. And I don't mess with the clubgirls. Too much fucking drama," I finally admit.
She narrows her eyes, sharp and suspicious. I can tell she's ready to bite back, keep pushing, keep poking, keep testing me. If I don't stop this, she can go at it for hours.
So I don't let her.
I grab her, throw her onto the bed, watch her bounce, watch her tits fucking bounce, and fuck, I wasn't prepared for that. I have to give my head a little shake to focus.
"We'll talk tomorrow. See where we go from here." My voice is final, leaving no room for a challenge.
She pouts, but I see the way her body relaxes into the mattress instantly. The one in her cell wasn't that great. On purpose, of course.
"Fine," she mutters through a yawn.
I slide in beside her, drag the covers over us, and like thirteen fucking years never passed between us, I pull her against me. Legs tangled. Arms wrapped around her.
She falls asleep within minutes. And I don't sleep at all.