Chapter 18 – Rowan
ROWAN
Icame up here to change into swim trunks. I’ve been restless all day, and I couldn’t pinpoint why, so it was either go for a run, which I wasn’t in the mood for since it’s hotter than the blazes of hell out, or swim laps until my muscles ached and my mind quieted.
Then I walked in here and found Marcella’s face in my pillow and realized why I was restless.
Her. Marcella Russo.
A fantasy. A preoccupation. A woman I promised I wouldn’t touch, and yet here I am.
I press my hard cock into her ass and grip her long blonde braid so I can wrap it around my fist, and use it to wrench her back to expose her throat to me.
A strangled noise flees her lips that somehow manages to make my cock harder.
Fuck yes.
I greedily take advantage, licking and sucking at her skin. A low growl tickles my lips as my tongue flicks her racing pulse point. Her taste. Holy fuck, the way her skin tastes. I know this taste. I swear I do.
“Stop licking me,” she demands even as she attempts to angle herself further against me, fighting the grip in her hair and the control I’m imposing.
I grin, my teeth sinking into her flesh, making her whimper and buck against me. I’ve got her held pretty good between her hair in my fist and her body caged by mine.
“This can’t happen.”
“It won’t. I’m not fucking you.”
She laughs. “Who said I was going to let you try?”
“Oh, sweetheart, if I wanted to put my cock in your tight little cunt, we both know you’d let me, and you’d love it.”
She snorts. “So arrogant, Your Highness.”
I use my free hand to tear at her pants, ripping the button open and scissoring her fly before I shove the hem down past her hips. Her creamy ass is right here, and I smack it. Hard. She squirms and rocks away from me, but I can’t have that.
“Say it again,” I dare her.
“Your Royal Highness.”
I grin like the devil. She thinks I’m going to spank her again, but I’ve got other ideas. I rip her tired, cotton thong down until it catches on her pants, locked right above her knees. Then I shove two fingers straight into her.
“Holy fuck!” she cries out, arching and attempting to move, to buck, but she won’t go anywhere unless I allow her to.
“So fucking tight. So fucking wet for me, aren’t you?”
I pound into her, finger fucking right against her front wall. She seems to like it rough, and my body blazes at the thought. At all the wicked, dirty, depraved things I want to do to her.
“I was wet before you came in.”
I chuckle darkly. “You mean from smelling my pillow?”
“Fuck you!”
“Is that what you want me to do? Is that why your hot little cunt is gripping my fingers, practically begging for my cock? You can lie and deny it all you want, but your body is all the proof I need that you want this.”
“Ah! Rowan, please.”
I lick her earlobe and bite the soft skin, dragging it with my teeth. “You say fuck you to me, and then you start to beg? Which is it?”
Her face pinches up. “I…I…I don’t know. We can’t do this, and yet if you stop...”
I continue to pump my fingers in and out of her, but I slow my pace, rubbing her, gliding them instead, making sure she feels everywhere I touch. “Let me make you come.”
Now I’m the one almost begging.
“Oh god. This is a mistake. Such a big mistake.”
“I’m taking the choice from you. You’re mine right now. Mine to pleasure however I choose. Lower your chest to the bed, arms above your head,” I command. “Palms flat. Don’t move unless you’re told, and do not disappoint me by attempting to say no.”
To my astonishment, she obeys immediately.
I release her braid and run my hand down her back, pressing on her spine until her chest is flat against the bed and her ass is high. She shakes, her back twisting to fight me off her, but that won’t happen.
I smack her ass. “You can’t push me off, so stop trying.”
I want to eat her out. I want to eat her ass and cunt, but I don’t because I know if I taste her, I’ll be done for. I won’t get her naked either. I won’t see or touch her tits. I won’t kiss her. But fuck, I want that.
All of it. All of her.
This is scratching an itch and nothing more. A one-time momentary lapse in judgment that won’t carry over. It’s not as though she’d want that anyway.
My other hand wraps around her hip, and I rub her clit while I finger fuck her pussy.
She’s so wet, and she smells so good, and I’m dying.
Excruciating, crippling agony with the need to be inside her.
To come. It’s robbing me of my brain cells and blood flow.
The visual of her like this is everything.
Her hips cant into my touch, seeking more, wanting me to work her harder. It makes me want to edge her. To keep her here like this all day, right on the brink. But time isn’t on my side, and playing games isn’t in my best interest for self-control.
I’m going to fuck my hand morning, noon, and night to her. It’s going to be just one more time. It’s going to be me fighting everything not to seek her out. Not to sneak down to her room at night, open her door, and climb into her bed to claim what’s now mine.
Mine. Shit. No. I can’t have these predatory, possessive thoughts about her.
My cock leaks in my shorts, and I rub it against the globe of her ass, anxious to touch myself but knowing that won’t happen. My heart pounds and my veins thrum with liquid lust. She sets my blood on fire.
She feels like silk. Her clit pulses and is hard and slick from her dripping cunt.
I rut and thrust and grind against her, dry humping her ass without even so much as a fuck to give about it.
I want to pull my cock out and come on her.
I want to watch the ropes of white coat her perfect skin.
I want to mark her so she knows exactly what’s happening and who she now belongs to.
I pick up my pace, feeling her pussy flutter and tighten against my fingers. Feeling her grow even wetter, hotter. Her moans fill the quiet of my bedroom, and if anyone walked by, they’d hear her for sure. What we’re doing is incredibly risky. But it won’t stop me now. Nothing will.
Sebastian, Althea, and Bellamy could walk in right now, and I’d still make sure my girl came. Arousal is so fucking beautiful on her. The side of her face is smashed against the bed and I have the most perfect view of her profile. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips parted, and her eyes are tightened.
I swivel my hips faster, fucking myself between the fabric of my boxer briefs, my shorts, and her sweet ass.
I groan at the feel of her clenching, all hot and needy on my fingers.
I rub her clit harder, adding more pressure, moving in tight, fast circles.
Her nails scratch at the bed, but she doesn’t move away from her position.
She keeps herself locked in place, twisting and shifting, but obedient all the same.
It makes me deliriously happy.
I come down over her back and lick the shell of her ear. “So sweet. Such a good, sweet girl for me.”
A shudder rolls through her, and her pussy clenches, holding my fingers in, refusing to let them go. I rub her front wall and press in on her clit. Her pussy is leaking all over my hand, soaking my fingers.
I can’t bear it. Not another second. If she doesn’t come right now—
“Oh god. Oh hell. Oh fuck!”
And that’s when it hits me.
It’s her. It has to be. I pull back and stare down at her face when she comes. The way she moves and responds. Her sounds. The words she just said—they’re identical to the ones she said after I made her come the first time.
She comes all over my hand, tattered noises and strangled pleasure that nearly make me orgasm on the spot tumbling out of her.
I watch with rapt attention, studying her in a way I haven’t until now.
The moment she goes limp, the tension on her face relaxing, I pull my fingers from her cunt and put them straight into my mouth.
I tasted her cunt that night. I know what my girl tastes like.
It’s a revelation, and my throat closes around my gasp. She tastes like innocence and sin. Like temptation and ruination.
Exactly the way Ella did that night.
I may not have a ton of clear memories, but I remember how her pussy tastes. I remember how her face looked as I made her come. How she sounded when she moaned for me.
I use my other hand to unzip my shorts and pull my cock out.
Her eyes flash open, and she twists her head over her shoulder, but I shake my head, pull my fingers from my mouth, and reclaim her braid, stopping her as I give myself three firm jerks and come all over her ass and the back of her black shirt.
Wordlessly, she arches so she can stare at my dick, which only makes me come harder with grunts and growls.
Maybe I’m going mad. Maybe it’s delusion and insanity and obsession. One night shouldn’t do me so hard. It shouldn’t lead to something like this.
But it’s her. I’d swear in front of a military tribunal to it.
All this time, I’ve ignored it and justified it away.
Rationalized its impossibility.
But no. Marcella is Ella. Ella is Marcella.
I slap her ass, jarring her forward. I do it again, and she tosses me a scowl over her shoulder. I stare down at her perfect profile. Her lovely lines. I’m fuming. Lost. Insane.
She’s painted in my cum, the sight erotic and beautiful, like her, and without a word—because I don’t think I’m capable at this moment—I head into my bathroom to retrieve a cloth while I tuck myself back in and zip up.
I take a moment to give my reflection a what the fuck glare. By the time I return, she’s gone, and I lean against the doorframe, locked on the rumpled spot on the bed where she had been moments ago.
I don’t know what this means. I don’t know who she is or what she’s doing here. I don’t know if someone sent her or if she came on her own. I don’t know if this is about me or if she’s here to hurt my family. I don’t know how she got past the facial recognition or security.
Her accent is different. Her hair is different. Her eyes are different.
The rest is her.
Now I have to figure out what I’m going to do about it. And how to prove it.