Chapter 33
Colton
I’m crashing. The adrenaline that carried me through is gone, leaving my body heavy and useless. Even breathing feels like work. But this whole mess is far from over. I need… something. I’m not sure what.
When I couldn’t get Ollie to stop screaming, I felt as though I was failing him again. Ronan calms him, hell, Ronan calms me. He’s what I need. What I will always need.
“You all will need dinner first. I will make something quick,” Franklin says. Ollie’s head whips around to him.
“Eat, eat.” He reaches for the cook, who takes him without hesitation.
“Mister Colton, is it okay if I take him with me to the kitchen? I will guard him with my life.”
I nod because I don’t trust my voice right now.
Everything is overwhelming. The attack, Alessia shooting a man, Ollie’s screams, the knowledge that somewhere in the basement a man is being tortured.
Somehow, all of that is overshadowed by the support and care from everyone around us.
Liam was even trying to calm Ollie down.
He’s been antagonistic with Ronan, but when Ollie was screaming, he tried to help.
I’m spiraling in my thoughts when I feel his touch. His large hand squeezes the nape of my neck, pulling me back to the here and now. The room is empty except for us.
“What do you need?” Ronan asks.
“You,” I manage to get out. I need his grounding, his touch, his safety.
Ronan doesn’t respond; he just guides me from the room.
I follow willingly. God, I would follow this man anywhere.
Ronan pulls me into a bedroom. This must be his childhood room.
It’s exactly what you would picture for a teenage Ronan.
There are no posters on the wall; instead, it’s dry-erase and cork boards.
A large desk against one wall holds four monitors and stacks of laptops.
“This is where you grew up?”
“Yes.”
Ronan shifts me to face him. He’s a man of few words, and I appreciate that about him. Because the words he does say have meaning. His large hand cups my face, and he places his forehead on mine.
“You’re safe. I’m going to end this for you. But tell me what you need from me right now.”
“I need to not think for just a little while.”
He pulls my shirt over my head. I’m pliant to his commands.
Kneeling, he removes my shoes and socks, then my pants.
I’m standing before this man stripped bare.
He sweeps me into his arms and carries me into the en suite.
After sitting me on the closed toilet lid, he turns the water on.
He strips slowly for me. Slow and deliberate, never breaking eye contact with me.
As much as I want to ogle his body, I can’t make myself look away from those piercing green eyes.
It’s like they have latched onto part of my soul, and it would kill me to look away.
Hot water slides down my chest. Ronan uses the citrus-smelling body wash, and all the tension that I had been holding flows down the drain with the suds.
No words are spoken as he tends to my body.
The feel of his strong fingers in my hair soothes parts of me that had been left jagged by life.
I hardly notice when he turns the water off. He dries me with care, then himself.
Lying on the bed, he covers my body with his. My skin heats as my focus is solely on the feel of his larger body pressing into mine. When he kisses me, I close my eyes just to feel him.
This isn’t the cold, calculating Ronan; this is his tender, gentle side. A side of him meant just for me and no one else. The hands that would kill for me run down my sides as he mouths at my skin, taking first the right nipple with a bite, then soothing it with his tongue.
He presses his nose in the junction of my thigh and groin, breathing in my scent. My hard cock is weeping for his attention, and when he gives in to it, my back arches off the bed. Hot wet heat surrounds my length as he takes me into his mouth. I moan in relief.
“Fuck, Ronan,” I say his name like a prayer. He’s not the prayer but the answer to it. Just when I think I will lose my mind and cum down his throat, he pulls away.
“No, don’t stop, so close,” I whine.
“I’m not stopping. You’ll cum when I’m buried inside of you.
” Ronan reaches into the drawer of the bedside table and comes back with a bottle of lube.
Pouring a generous amount on his fingers, he presses against my hole.
One finger, then two. The burn was intense; this was only my second time.
Ronan’s eyes never left mine. His movements are slow.
“No, please, don’t stop,” I beg. With a single crook of his finger, everything around me disappears. In this world, in this universe, it’s only Ronan and me. I don’t notice when he adds the third finger, readying me to take him.
He pulls back enough to pour more lube over his cock. There’s a moment in my mind when I think taking him is impossible. That thought quickly dissolves as he slowly, tenderly breaches my channel. It’s a complete surrender to him.
Once I feel his hips resting against my ass, I let out a sigh of release.
“Are you okay. You tell me to stop, and I stop.”
“If you stop, I’ll get the address of the compound and take you there myself. Fuck me, Ronan. Fuck me like you own me.”
“I do own you. No one else can ever have you. I will kill anyone who touches you.”
The declaration of murder should turn me off, but it only heightens the sensations thundering through me. Ronan is mine. He is the one person who is just for me. I chant mine over and over again as he slams into me, hitting my prostate on every thrust.
My mind goes blank. I can’t think of anything other than this moment. He takes my mouth in a bruising kiss, tongue pushing against my lips seeking entry. I open to it, to him, to a life I never thought possible.
His hand, still slick with lube, wraps around my aching cock.
He jerks me in time with his own movements.
I don’t know what is happening to me when my body arches and my vision goes white.
My orgasm is unlike any that I’ve had before.
Intense energy shoots through my nervous system, hard and jolting.
The sight of Ronan’s head rearing backward brings me back to him.
His muscles tighten as he finds his own release.
Ronan brings my legs down but doesn’t pull out. His body rests over mine, holding most of his weight on his elbows. Both of us are trying to catch our breath.
I smile up at him, eyes half lidded. I’ve never been drunk before, but this must be what it feels like. I’m floating on clouds, and my brain is fuzzy.
“I love you,” I whisper just as I slip off to sleep.