Chapter 21
Chapter twenty-one
Olivia
His mouth is on mine before I can take the words back, hard and consuming, his tongue sweeping in like he owns every part of me already.
One minute I’m outside in the cool air, the next I’m stumbling backward, his hands unrelenting on my waist, steering me until the world blurs.
My back slams against the bedroom wall, a gasp catching in my throat as he cages me in with his body.
His hand pins my wrists high above my head, the other gripping my hip, dragging me flush against the thick, unmistakable ridge straining his slacks.
The contact rips a moan from me, shameful and needy, and he swallows it like it feeds him.
My dress strap slips. Cool air hits the bare line of my shoulder, and I flinch, tugging against his hold. I know what comes next. The strapless bra beneath, the one that always makes me feel too exposed, too soft. My body isn’t the kind men like him want stripped bare under the lights.
He feels the hesitation instantly. His grip hardens, his mouth dragging lower, hot against my throat until his teeth scrape the sensitive spot that makes me tremble.
“Don’t you fucking hide from me,” he growls, rough and dangerous, every word vibrating against my skin. “You think I don’t know what’s under this dress? I’ve imagined every inch of you. Every curve. Every soft place I’m going to sink into. You were made to be devoured, my sweet girl.”
He releases my wrists and steps back. Just enough to make me ache from the loss of contact.
“Strip,” he says, voice low and final. “Then lie on the bed. I want to see you.”
My heart skips. Shame flares up fast, what if he sees the softness of my stomach, the dip at my waist that I always try to disguise?
“Now,” he adds, eyes dark. “Unless you want me to tear it off for you.”
That jolts me into motion. I take a breath and turn toward the bed, the air cool against my flushed skin as I ease the side zipper down. I don’t dare look back. Not when I can feel his eyes on me like heat, like hunger, like punishment.
The dress falls and I face him.
Air skims my skin; every inch feels awake.
His gaze drags over me, slow and consuming until I forget why I ever tried to hide.
I climb onto the bed slowly, nerves alive and sparking. Lying there in just a bra and panties, I feel exposed. Too much. Too soft. Too everything.
But then he moves.
War peels off his shirt like he’s undressing for a ritual. His pants follow. His cock strains thick and heavy behind his underwear, and when his eyes land on me, they go molten.
“Fuck,” he breathes, his voice rough now. “Look at you. Laid out like temptation itself.”
My breath shudders.
“Take it off,” he says.
I blink.
“The bra. I want it gone.”
My hands shake as I reach behind me and unhook the clasp. The cups fall away.
He lets out a low, dangerous sound that shoots straight between my legs.
“I knew those would be perfect,” he mutters, crawling onto the bed like a man possessed. “Fuck, Olivia.”
He palms one breast, then leans in to suck the nipple between his lips, teeth grazing it just enough to make me gasp.
“That’s it,” he groans. “Make those sounds for me. Let me hear what that perfect body does when it’s finally getting what it needs.”
His mouth moves from one breast to the other, tongue flicking over the hardened peak before he sucks deep, possessive. My hands tangle in his hair, holding on, my thighs shifting restlessly beneath him.
“War—”
“You’re perfect.” His voice is low, wrecked. “These tits were made to fill my hands. They’re mine now. You hear me?”
I nod, breathless.
“No.” His teeth graze my nipple, sharp enough to make me gasp. “Say it.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks. “They’re yours.”
His cock jerks against me through the fabric between us, and he groans like the words undid him.
“Damn right they are.”
His hand drags down my body, large palm skimming over my soft stomach, my hips, until his fingers press between my thighs. The thin fabric of my panties does nothing to hide how wet I am.
“You’re soaked.” His voice is a dangerous rasp. “All this just from a little praise? From me telling you what’s mine?”
A helpless sound breaks in my throat when his thumb circles my clit through the damp fabric.
“Talk to me, sweet girl. Tell me what this greedy cunt needs.”
“I-I don’t—” I whimper. “I don’t know.”
He lifts his head, eyes narrowing. “You do. You’re just shy. But I’ll drag it out of you.”
He slides lower, his mouth blazing a trail down my stomach, lips brushing the edge of my panties. When he kisses just above the waistband, my whole body jerks.
“Perfect little mess,” he mutters. Then his fingers hook under the band, and in one sharp motion he rips the panties down my legs and tosses them aside.
He stares for a beat, gaze dark and hungry. “Fuck. Look at you. Glorious. And all mine.”
I try to close my thighs, too bare, too raw, too big, but his hands clamp around them, forcing them open.
“Don’t.” His growl vibrates straight through me. “You don’t hide from me. You keep these thighs parted and let me see what’s mine.”
And then his mouth is on me.
I gasp, choking on the sound, as his tongue circles my clit in a hot, wet stroke that rips the air from my lungs. My hips jerk on instinct, before I can stop them, but his hands clamp down hard on my thighs, pinning me to the mattress.
“Stay still,” he growls against me, his breath hot over my pussy. “You don’t grind on me. You take what I give you.”
And then he devours me.
His tongue lashes over my clit in ruthless strokes, sucking it into his mouth, releasing it, then doing it again until I’m gasping his name like a prayer.
My hands claw the sheets, reaching for anything to hold on to, but he doesn’t let up.
Every flick of his tongue, every hard pull of his mouth is calculated torture.
“War! Oh fuck—” I sob, the plea ragged.
A dark groan vibrates from deep in his chest as he pushes two fingers inside me, thick and unrelenting. The sudden stretch rips a cry from me, my body clenching helplessly around him.
“Fuck,” he rasps sucking hard on my clit while his fingers thrust deep. “Tight little cunt’s desperate for me already. You feel that? That’s mine. Every squeeze, every drip; mine.”
The wet sounds are obscene. The slick thrust of his fingers, the greedy suck of his mouth, the rough growl vibrating against my most sensitive spot, it’s filth and hunger, raw and consuming.
I thrash, trembling, my orgasm clawing up fast, wild.
He pulls back just enough to rasp, “You don’t come until I tell you. Do you understand?” His fingers still, buried inside me. His hot breath hovers over my clit, tormenting me with absence.
I whimper, shaking my head, desperate. “Please—”
His teeth graze my clit, sharp enough to make me cry out. “Say it, Olivia. Say you’ll hold it.”
“Yes!” My voice cracks, high and frantic. “Yes, I’ll wait—”
“Good girl.”
And then he’s on me again, tongue relentless, fingers thrusting, curling just right until my back arches clean off the bed. He controls every second, dragging me higher, forcing me to teeter right at the edge without falling.
I know I won’t last. He’s destroying me, orchestrating even the way I break.
His tongue is merciless, dragging me higher with every flick, every rough pull, his fingers pumping inside me until I’m trembling, begging. My nails rake at the sheets, desperate for something to anchor me.
“War, please, I can’t—”
“Yes, you can,” he growls into me, mouth sealing over my clit again. His words vibrate against me, dark and consuming. “You’ll hold it until I give you permission. You’ll take it because I said so.”
I’m shaking, my body betraying me, walls clenching hard around his fingers. The pressure is unbearable, my orgasm begging to break free.
“Beg for it,” he rasps, pulling back just enough to torment me with air. “Tell me exactly what you need.”
“Please!” My voice is high, frantic. “Please let me come!”
“Say my name while you beg for it.”
“War, please, I need it, I need to come—”
He growls like the sound feeds him. “Beautiful. Now give it to me.”
His mouth latches back onto my clit, tongue ruthless, fingers curling deep; just right, and the dam bursts.
I cry out, my body trembling, as wave after wave tears through me. His mouth doesn’t relent. He rides me through it, owning every spasm, every helpless cry, until I’m nothing but a trembling wreck beneath him.
When he finally pulls away, I melt into the sheets. My chest heaves. My mind blanks. I’m still gasping for air when the mattress dips beneath his weight.
He crawls over me, heat sliding between my thighs.
I keep my eyes closed, trying to catch a breath, until his hand grips my jaw, firm, commanding, and tilts my face to his.
“Look at me.”
His voice is gravel. Rough and unrelenting.
My lashes flutter open. He’s there, above me. Pupils blown with hunger. His cock thick and heavy between my thighs.
My cheeks burn hot, shameful and exposed, and his lips twist into a filthy smirk.
“There it is,” he rasps. “That blush. That sweet little look that says you know you’re mine. Don’t hide it, Olivia. Wear it for me.”
Before I can even form a thought, he pushes inside me.
The stretch punches a gasp out of my lungs, sharp and visceral, my hands grasp at his shoulders, my nails digging into his skin as he fills me; thick, deep, relentless. I haven’t had sex in over a year, and it feels like my body is splitting open, reawakened, alive.
“Oh!” The word rips out of me, broken.
He stills, buried deep, eyes locked on mine. “Breathe with me.”
I do. In. Out. Slowly. The ache softens. The pressure shifts to pleasure.
“There she is,” he growls as he begins to move.
His mouth is at my ear, his tone dark and triumphant.
“That’s it. Take it. Feel this cock owning you, opening you up. You’re mine now. You hear me?”
I nod frantically, lost in the ache, the fire of being stretched and claimed.
He thrusts harder, deeper, forcing me to feel every brutal inch.
“Say it,” he hisses. “Say you’re mine.”
“You—I’m yours,” I choke, voice shaking.
“Good girl.” His pace quickens, fucking me harder, his hold unyielding, as he keeps my eyes on his. “Don’t you dare look away. I want you red-cheeked and wrecked, staring at the man who owns this pussy now.”
My face burns hotter, my body helpless under his, and I never want to be anywhere else. This is exactly where I want to be.
His cock drives deeper, relentless, and I can’t breathe. My body feels split apart, every nerve ending sparking, my pulse pounding in my ears. A year of nothing, and now this—him, and it’s too much, it’s everything, it’s exactly what I didn’t know I’d been starving for.
“Fuck,” he snarls, hips slamming into mine. “This pussy is meant for me. Perfect, tight, wet; gripping me like you’ve been waiting for my cock to claim you.”
I moan, shameful and wrecked, my cheeks blazing hotter with every filthy word.
“There it is,” he growls, watching my face. “That blush. You can’t hide how much you love this. Being filled. Owned. Fucked just like this body deserves.”
My nails claw uselessly at his shoulders, at the sheets, at anything I can find to ground me. He doesn’t give me a chance. Every thrust is sharp, pounding me into the mattress, dragging me right back to where he wants me.
“You feel that?” His voice is low, dangerous, his grip firm so I can’t look away. “That’s me. Every inch. Every thrust. You’re not running from it, Olivia. You’re taking it. You’re mine.”
“Yes,” I sob, my voice breaking. “Yes—”
His breath hot against my ear, his words filth pouring straight into my bloodstream with every thrust.
“Say it again. Say you’re mine while I fuck you open.”
“I’m yours!” I cry, my body clenching tight around him. “War, I’m yours!”
“Good girl.” The praise is rough, almost guttural. “Now come for me. Milk this cock like the desperate little slut you are.”
The word hits me like a lash, slut, and instead of flinching, something in me tightens. My body responds before my brain can catch up, pulsing around him so hard it drags a groan from his chest.
Heat floods my cheeks. I don’t know what shocks me more, that he said it, or that I loved it.
“Oh,” he growls, fucking me deeper, “you liked that.”
My breath shudders. My blush blooms deeper. I can’t look away.
“Didn’t you, Olivia?” he presses. “You like being called my little slut?”
I moan, shameless and wrecked, the need in me so sharp it hurts. “Yes,” I gasp. “I-I loved it.”
The confession rips something loose inside me. My orgasm slams into me with brutal force, my body shaking, back arching, walls clenching so tight around him it hurts. I scream his name, incoherent and undone, as he fucks me through it.
He doesn’t stop. His thrusts riding the convulsions of my body, groaning in my ear.
“Look at you. Falling apart on my cock. Mine. Every whimper, every blush, every messy little spasm. It belongs to me now.”
I can barely see, barely think, but the way my pussy clutches around him drags a savage groan from his chest. His thrusts turn rougher, almost frantic, and then he breaks, driving deep, grinding hard as he comes inside me.
The heat floods me, hot and claiming, his cock pulsing with every release. He releases my jaw and holds me pinned, buried to the hilt, making sure I feel every drop.
His forehead presses against mine, his breath ragged, his grip tightening. His eyes burn into me, dark and feral.
“You’re ruined, Olivia,” he rasps, still throbbing inside me. “No one else will ever have you like this. No one else gets this pussy. It’s mine now. Understand?”
I nod breathless, cheeks flaming, body limp beneath him, still trembling from the aftershocks.
I’ve never wanted to belong to anyone more.