Chapter 20 #2
“Get on the bed properly.” I step back. “All the way up. On your back.”
She hesitates for half a second, testing me.
“Remy.” The warning in my voice is clear.
She moves, crawling onto the bed and settling against the pillows, watching me with wide eyes. I strip off my shirt, then my pants, never breaking eye contact. When I’m down to just my underwear, I kneel on the bed at her feet.
I wrap my hands around her ankles. “I’m going to touch you now. Everywhere. And you’re going to tell me what you like. Not by asking nicely, but by demanding it. Can you do that?”
She nods.
“Out loud.”
“Yes.” Her voice is breathless.
I run my hands up her calves, over her knees, along her thighs. She trembles under my touch, and I feel the tension in her muscles. “Relax.”
“I can’t relax when you’re between my legs,” she gasps.
“Yes, you can.” I settle between her thighs, my hands gripping her hips. “Because you trust me. Don’t you?”
“Yes, but—”
“No buts.” My mouth finds the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, and her protests stop.
I take my time, kissing and biting my way higher, listening to every hitch in her breathing, every slight sound she makes. When I reach the edge of her underwear, I pause. “Tell me what you want.”
“You know what I want.” Her hips lift slightly, seeking contact.
“Say it anyway.” I press her hips back down firmly. “Or I’ll stop right here.”
“Damn it, Ansel. You know what I want.”
“Say it,” I command.
“I want your mouth on me.” The words rush out. “I want you to make me come. I want you to stop making me beg for it.”
“But you look so good when you beg.” I pull her underwear down slowly. “And I like hearing you say what you want.”
“You’re impossible.”
“I’m thorough.” I toss her underwear aside and spread her thighs wider. “There’s a difference.”
When I finally put my mouth on her, she cries out, her hands flying to my hair. I work her thoroughly, learning what makes her gasp and what makes her fingers tighten in my hair hard enough to hurt.
“Ansel! Oh, fuck!” Her hips buck against my mouth, and I hold her down, controlling her movements.
She’s getting close; her body is wound tight. I slide two fingers inside her, not stopping what I’m doing with my mouth, just adding more. The combination makes her moan.
“Come for me, Remy.” I curl my fingers, finding that spot inside her that drives her wild while my tongue maintains its rhythm.
She comes apart spectacularly, screaming my name, her entire body convulsing. I don’t let up, drawing it out until tears leak from the corners of her eyes and she’s begging me to stop. Only then do I ease back, moving up her body with satisfaction.
She reaches for me, trying to pull me down to touch me, but I catch her wrists.
“No.” I pin her hands above her head, holding both wrists in one hand. “You don’t touch me until I say you can.”
“That’s not fair!”
“Life’s not fair.” I lean down, my mouth finding her breast. I take my time with her, using my free hand and my mouth to explore every inch of her body while she writhes beneath me, unable to touch me back. When she’s gasping and begging again, I release her wrists.
“Now you can touch me.” It’s an order, not a request.
Her hands are on me immediately, sliding down my chest, gripping my shoulders, pulling me closer. I strip off my underwear and settle between her thighs again, but I don’t give her what she wants. Not yet.
“Ansel, please.” She tries to wrap her legs around me, to pull me to her, but I resist.
“Please, what?” I grip her thigh, holding her open. “Be specific.”
“I need you inside me.” Her nails dig into my shoulders. “Stop making me wait.”
“I’ll stop making you wait when I’m satisfied that you understand something.”
“Understand what?” Frustration and desire war in her voice.
“That you’re mine.” I position myself at her entrance, not moving. “Say it.”
“I’m yours.” The words come out immediately.
I thrust into her, and she cries out, her back arching off the bed. I don’t give her time to adjust. I set a demanding pace immediately, one hand gripping her hip hard enough to leave marks, the other braced beside her head.
“Look at me.” I wait until her eyes open, unfocused and dark with pleasure.
She tries to respond, but her words break on a moan.
I slow down, making each thrust deliberate, controlled. “You can take everything I give you. Can’t you?”
“Yes.” Her legs wrap around my waist. “Yes, I can.”
“Good.” I shift the angle slightly, and she gasps. “Because I’m not going easy on you. Not tonight. Not ever.”
“I don’t want you to.” Her nails rake down my back. “I want this. I want you like this—losing control, not holding back.”
Something breaks in me at her words, the last restraint I’ve been holding on to. I capture her mouth in a brutal kiss, pouring months of want and frustration and need into it. She kisses me back just as fiercely, taking everything I give her and demanding more.
The control I’m known for fractures completely. I grip her thigh, pushing it higher, changing the angle, and she makes a sound that’s half gasp, half scream.
“Harder.” She demands it, not asks.
I comply, driving into her with enough force to make the headboard hit the wall. She meets me thrust for thrust, her body moving with mine, and I realize this is what she needed—not gentleness, not careful handling, but proof that I see her as strong enough to take all of me.
“Ansel, I’m close!” Her voice breaks.
“Not yet.” I slow down again, making her whimper in frustration. “Not until I say.”
“You can’t just—”
“I can.” I pull almost all the way out, then thrust back in slowly. “And I will. Because you’re mine, Remy. And when you come, it’s going to be because I let you. Because I made you. Understand?”
“Yes.” She’s trembling beneath me. “Yes, I understand.”
“Good.” I pick up the pace again, reading her body, knowing exactly how close she is. “Then come for me. Now.”
She shatters around me, my name torn from her throat, her entire body arching and tightening. I follow seconds later, the control I’ve been holding onto finally snapping completely as I drive into her one last time.
We stay locked together, both of us gasping for air. I don’t roll away, don’t give her space. Instead, I keep her pinned beneath me, my forehead pressed against hers.
Her hands slide up my back.
I pull back enough to look at her. There are marks on her hips from my fingers, and I trace one with my thumb. “Did I hurt you?”
“No.” She catches my hand, bringing it to her lips. “You gave me exactly what I asked for. What I needed.”
I capture her mouth in a kiss that’s softer than before, but no less possessive. When I pull back, she’s smiling. “What?”
“You.” She traces the line of my jaw. “You’re not what I expected.”
“In bed?”
“In general.” Her smile widens. “I thought you’d be all controlled and restrained. But you’re not. You’re intense and demanding and just a little bit overwhelming.”
“Is that a complaint?”
“It’s a compliment.” She pulls me down for another kiss. “A very sincere compliment.”
I roll us to our sides, but I don’t let her go. My hand grips her hip, holding her against me, and she doesn’t protest. She settles into my hold like she belongs there.
“I’m not good at this,” I admit.
“At what?”
“Letting go. Being vulnerable. Sharing control.” I press a kiss to her forehead. “But with you, I want to try.”
“You just did.” Her fingers trace patterns on my chest. “And it was perfect.”
“I want to do it again.” I tighten my grip on her.
She laughs, breathless and pleased. “How soon?”
“Whenever you want.” I pull her closer.
She’s quiet for a long moment, and I watch emotions play across her face—satisfaction, affection, and something that might be wonder.
“Ansel?”
“Hmm?”
“Thank you.”
I pull back enough to see her face. “For what?”
“For this. For caring enough to be terrified. For turning your home into a fortress to keep me safe.” Her smile is soft. “For finally stopping long enough to let me in.”
“Remy.” I cup her face, thumb brushing her cheekbone. “You’ve been in since the moment you walked into that conference room and looked at me like I didn’t intimidate you.”
“You did intimidate me.” She laughs. “You still do sometimes.”
“Good.” I kiss her forehead, her nose, her lips. “Someone needs to keep you on your toes.”
“Is that your job now?”
“One of them.” I pull her closer, tucking her against my chest. “Along with keeping you safe, and keeping you satisfied, and keeping you from working through meals.”
“That’s quite a list.”
“I’m very thorough.”
“Yes, you’ve said that, and I’ve noticed.” She yawns, exhaustion finally catching up to her. “But right now, I just want to sleep.”
“Then sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
She’s asleep within minutes, her breathing evening out against my chest.
I should sleep, too. I’ve been awake for over thirty hours, running on adrenaline and coffee. But I can’t stop watching her, can’t stop marveling at the fact that she’s here, in my bed, trusting me.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand. I reach for it carefully, not wanting to disturb Remy.
Enzo: Everything okay?
Me: Everything’s perfect.
Enzo: About damn time.
I silence my phone and set it aside, then settle back against the pillows with Remy still curled against me. I press a kiss to her hair and close my eyes.
For the first time in months, I let go of the need to control everything. Because right now, holding Remy in my arms, knowing she’s safe and satisfied and mine, I realize that some things are worth surrendering control for.
Some things—some people—are worth everything.