Chapter 16 Ozzy
SIXTEEN
OZZY
I hold her against the tree like she’s the only thing keeping me upright, my cock still buried deep inside her, pulsing with the last aftershocks. Her legs are locked around my waist, her breath hot and ragged against my neck, and all I can think is: Fuck. What did I just do?
I wanted to be better than this. I swore I would be.
After everything she’s been through—the abduction, the fear, the night she woke up gasping—I told myself I’d give her safety first. Patience.
Control. I was supposed to be the steady one, the one who kept his hands to himself until she was ready, until she asked.
Instead I fucked her like an animal out here in the open, against rough bark, no gentleness, no slow build.
Just raw need and days of pent-up hunger slamming into her until she screamed my name.
Guilt twists sharp in my gut, even as her walls are still fluttering around me, milking the last drops from my cock.
“Salem,” I rasp, voice wrecked. I ease back just enough to look at her. Her lips are swollen, cheeks flushed, eyes glassy with pleasure. She’s never looked more beautiful. Or more fragile. “Baby, I—”
She cuts me off with a soft, breathless laugh and tightens her thighs around me. “Don’t you dare say you’re sorry.”
I shake my head, forehead pressed to hers. “I lost it. I took you like I had no control. Out here, against a fucking tree—”
“I wanted it,” she whispers. “I needed it. Ozzy, I’ve been dying for you since the moment you climbed into that bed last night. Even longer.”
Her words sink into me, warm and dangerous, loosening the knot in my chest just a fraction.
But I still hear the scrape of bark on her back when I shift.
I can see the faint red marks already blooming on her skin.
I slide out of her slowly, hating the loss of her heat, and lower her feet to the grass.
My cum is already slipping down her inner thighs, glistening in the morning light.
The sight makes my spent cock twitch again. Fucking, greedy bastard.
I scoop her up without another word, one arm under her knees, the other around her back, and carry her inside like she weighs nothing.
The screen door bangs shut behind us. The house is cool and quiet, coffee still warm on the counter from earlier.
I head straight for the bathroom, set her gently on the edge of the sink, and turn on the shower until steam curls around us.
She watches me with those big eyes, silently, while I strip off my sweats and T-shirt.
Then I peel her clothes off her and drop them to the floor.
Her body is a map I want to memorize: the faint curve of her waist, the soft swell of her breasts, the way her nipples are still tight from the cool air and my mouth.
Reddened marks from my fingers on her hips. The shine of us between her legs.
I guide her under the spray first, stepping in behind her.
The water sluices over her shoulders, down her back, washing away the evidence of how rough I was.
I grab the soap, lather my hands, and start slowly.
I do gentle circles over her shoulders, down her arms, and across the small of her back where the bark left faint scratches.
She sighs, leaning into me, and the sound unravels something deep in my chest.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur against her wet hair. “I wanted to do this right. Take my time. Make you feel safe, not… claimed like that.”
She turns in my arms, water streaming down her face, and cups my jaw with both hands. “Don’t you dare apologize for wanting me that much. I wanted you just as badly. I still do.” Her thumb brushes my lower lip. “You didn’t hurt me, Ozzy. You made me feel alive.”
Relief crashes through me so hard my knees almost buckle.
I kiss her then—not the frantic, desperate kiss from outside, but deep and slow, like I’m pouring every unsaid thing into her mouth.
My tongue slides against hers, tasting coffee and salt and her.
She melts against me, her arms looping around my neck, and for long minutes we just stand there under the spray, kissing like the world outside doesn’t exist.
When we finally break apart, I shut off the water, towel her off with careful strokes. I dry every drop from the hollow of her throat, the dip of her navel, and the sensitive skin behind her knees. She’s shivering, but not from the cold. I can see the fresh heat building in her eyes.
I lift her again, and into the bedroom. The sheets are still rumpled from last night. I lay her down in the center like she’s something precious, then step back just long enough to drink her in: naked, flushed, hair damp and dark against the white pillow. Mine. Finally mine.
I crawl over her, bracketing her body with my arms, and start worshipping.
I kiss her forehead first, then each closed eyelid.
I kiss the tip of her nose, and then the corners of her mouth.
Soft, reverent presses that make her smile.
Then lower—along her jaw, down the slender column of her throat where her pulse flutters wild under my lips.
I linger at the hollow above her collarbone, sucking gently until she arches with a soft gasp.
My hands follow: big palms sliding up her sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts but not quite touching where she wants me yet.
“Ozzy…” Her voice is already breathy.
“Shh. Let me take care of you.” I kiss between her breasts, then detour to one nipple, circling it with my tongue before drawing it into my mouth.
I suck slow and deep, rolling it against the roof of my mouth until she’s squirming, her fingers threading into my hair.
I give the other the same treatment, teeth grazing just enough to make her moan, then soothe with my tongue.
I work my way down her stomach, kissing every rib, dipping my tongue into her navel until she giggles and gasps at the same time.
Lower still. I hook her thighs over my shoulders and settle between her legs like I belong there.
She’s glistening again, pink and swollen from earlier.
The sight makes my cock throb painfully against the mattress, but I ignore it. This is for her.
I lick a long, slow stripe up her center, tasting us together.
She cries out, hips jerking. I press her down gently with one forearm across her lower belly and do it again, slower, savoring.
I circle her clit with the flat of my tongue, then flick the tip until her thighs start to tremble.
Two fingers slide into her easily, curling upward to find that spot that makes her back bow off the bed.
“Oh God—right there—”
I hum against her, the vibration pulling another broken moan from her throat.
I suck her clit into my mouth, gentle pressure, tongue working in tight circles while my fingers pump slow and deep, scissoring, stretching.
Her walls flutter around me, gripping, and I add a third finger, curling harder. She’s so wet the sounds are obscene.
I don’t stop until she comes the first time, thighs clamping around my head, a sharp cry ripping out of her as she pulses around my fingers. I keep licking her through it, softer now, drawing it out until she’s whimpering.
I climb back up her body, kissing every inch on the way. I drag my tongue over her inner thighs, her hip bones, and the soft underside of each breast. When I reach her mouth I kiss her deep, letting her taste herself on my tongue. She moans into it, hands roaming my back, nails digging in.
“Please,” she whispers against my lips. “I need you inside me again.”
“Not yet.” I smile against her mouth. “I’m not done worshipping.”
I flip her onto her stomach, gentle but firm, and start over from the back.
I kiss down her spine, one vertebrae at a time.
I bite the curve of her ass, then soothe it with my tongue.
I spread her cheeks and lick her there too—slow, filthy circles around her tight little hole until she’s pushing back against my face, gasping my name like a prayer.
My fingers find her clit from underneath, rubbing in lazy circles while I tongue her ass, driving her higher again.
She comes a second time like that, face buried in the pillow, body shaking so hard the bed creaks.
Only then do I turn her back over.
I’m aching, cock so hard it’s leaking steadily onto her thigh, but I take my time lining up. I rub the head at her entrance, coating myself in her fresh slick, teasing her clit until she’s begging.
“Look at me,” I murmur.
Her eyes flutter open, dark and glassy.
I push in—inch by inch, slow and relentless—until I’m seated to the hilt. The stretch makes her gasp, walls rippling around me like she’s trying to pull me deeper. I stay there, buried deep, hips flush to hers, and just feel her. The heat. The perfect fit. The way her body trembles under mine.
Then I start to move.
Not the frantic rutting from outside. This is deep, rolling thrusts.
I pull almost all the way out, then slide back in so slow she feels every vein, every ridge.
Every fucking thing. I grind against her clit on every downstroke, watching her face the whole time.
Her lips part on a silent cry, eyes locked on mine like she’s drowning and I’m the only air.
I lean down, forearms bracketing her head, and kiss her through every thrust. They’re deep, lazy kisses that match the pace of my hips. “You feel so fucking good,” I whisper against her mouth. “So tight. So wet for me. Taking me so perfectly.”
Her hands slide up my back, nails scoring my skin. “Harder—please—”
I give it to her, but still controlled. Deeper.
Faster now, but never losing that grinding rhythm against her clit.
Sweat slicks between us. The room fills with the wet slap of skin, her soft moans, my low groans.
I hook one of her legs over my arm, opening her wider, and drive in harder, hitting that spot inside her that makes her eyes roll back.
“Come for me again, baby. One more time. Let me feel you squeeze my cock.”
She shatters on the next thrust, crying out, walls clamping down so hard I see stars.
I fuck her through it, drawing it out, then let myself go.
Pleasure coils tight at the base of my spine, and explodes outward.
I bury myself deep and come with a guttural groan, pulsing hot and endless inside her, filling her until it leaks out around us.
I collapse half on top of her, careful not to crush her, and bury my face in her neck. Her arms wrap around me, holding me close. Our hearts hammer against each other.
For a long time we just breathe.
I lift my head eventually, brushing damp hair from her face. “You okay?”
She smiles. It’s soft, sated, and radiant. “Better than okay.”
Guilt is still there, faint now, but it’s drowned out by something bigger. Something warm and certain that settles deep in my chest.
I kiss her again, slow and sweet. “Stay right here. I’m getting you water and something to eat. Then I’m doing all of that again.”
She laughs, the sound light and perfect, and pulls me back down for another kiss.
I’m never letting her go.