Chapter 6 #3
He sees the dark pieces, the shattered jagged edges, the things I’ve hidden even from myself, and instead of flinching away, he touches them like they’re worth loving.
Like they’re beautiful.
I can’t say any of that out loud. I can only lie there, wrists bound, chest rising too fast, eyes shining up at him, hoping he reads every unspoken confession in the way I tremble for him.
Nick looks down at me, and his expression softens.
“Don’t worry,” he murmurs. “I’ve got you, Vixen.”
He leans back, and his gaze traces over my body, slow and unbearably tender for a man about to ruin me.
“Gorgeous,” he murmurs. “Open your legs for me.”
I do. Immediately. Shamefully fast.
His eyes darken.
I whimper, straining toward him, but the ribbon holds me tight.
Nick smirks, a sinful curve of his mouth. “You want it? Me?”
I nod, breathless. “Please.”
“Oh, Vixen.” He leans down and kisses the corner of my mouth, soft, mocking, affectionate. “You’ve got some more begging to do.”
His thumb slides down and rubs my clit, delicate at first, then firmer.
My back arches off the mattress. I tug against the ribbon hard enough to make the headboard creak.
Nick watches my hips tilt helplessly toward his hand.
“Sensitive,” he says softly, brushing my clit again. “I like that.”
“More,” I gasp. “Please, more.”
He laughs under his breath, a dark, satisfied sound. He moves his thumb again, but slower this time, teasing little circles that make me frantic.
My thighs start to tremble.
“Already shaking?” he taunts gently. “I haven’t even touched you properly.”
“You are touching me,” I gasp, breathless and desperate.
“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, leaning down until his lips brush my ear, “I haven’t even started.”
He shifts, and I think he’s going to enter me, but no. His head lowers instead. His breath ghosts over my inner thigh.
My whole body jolts.
Nick grins against my skin. “You want my mouth, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I gasp. “Oh, yes—”
“Good.” He licks one slow, devastating stripe up my center.
My entire soul leaves my body.
The sound that escapes me isn’t human. Nick groans in response, hands gripping my thighs to hold me still as he drags his tongue over me again, swirling it this time.
“Fuck,” he mutters against my clit. “Tasting you should be illegal.”
I tug helplessly at my bound wrists.
“Mmm.” Another slow lick. Then he wraps his lips around my clit and sucks gently.
I cry out as he devours me. His mouth seals around me, and his tongue flicks. My hips buck, but his hands hold me down, owning every twitch, every gasp, every desperate grind.
I feel the orgasm building, fast, vicious, overwhelming.
“I—Nick—I’m gonna—”
He pulls back instantly, leaving me right on the edge.
“Not yet,” he murmurs, licking his lips slowly like he’s savoring me. “Not until I say.”
I whine, half-plea, half-protest.
He climbs back over me, the heat of his body swallowing mine, his cock sliding along my slit again, wet and teasing and too much.
“Are you ready?” he asks, and I nod frantically.
“Good.” He lines himself up, the thick head nudging my entrance in lazy, taunting strokes. “Because when I fuck you this time—” he thrusts just the tip inside me and I gasp— “I’m not stopping until you scream my name.”
Those words have me panting in anticipation.
He pushes in, slow, brutal, inch by inch, until he’s fully sheathed inside me and I swear I see stars.
He leans down, his lips brushing mine.
“Now,” he breathes, “you can beg.”
I do. I whimper and whine and plead, saying his name about a million times while he holds still, filling me up so completely I can feel his pulse inside of me but not moving. Nick just stares down, watching me, until I start to give up. He gives one small thrust, and I feel every inch.
“Go on,” he encourages. “Ask for what you want.”
My pride tries to rise.
It dies instantly.
“Please,” I gasp, already squirming, already lost. “Fuck me. Nick—please—move. I need you to move.”
His eyes grow heavy-lidded. He cups my jaw, thumb dragging over my cheek with obscene tenderness.
“That’s it,” he murmurs. “My good girl. So polite when you’re desperate.”
He pulls out an inch, just an inch, then pushes back in slow enough to break me.
A strangled sound tears from my throat.
Nick’s mouth curves into a sinful half-smile. “Again.”
“Please,” I breathe, barely recognizing myself, “please—more.”
His hand slides until his thumb rests under my chin, tilting my head up so I have no choice but to stare him in the eyes while he ruins me.
“Look at you,” he says, voice low and devastating. “Tied up for me, begging for me… you’re going to be the end of me.”
My wrists strain, my back arches, the ribbon burns around my skin from how hard I’m fighting it.
Nick watches all of it.
“Fuck,” he whispers, reverently. “You look so good like this. Look at your body taking me.”
He thrusts again. Deeper. Harder.
A rhythm that makes my vision blur at the edges.
My legs shake violently.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t remember how.
I’m drowning in him.
“N—Nick—,” I gasp. “I can’t—”
“Yes, you can.” His voice turns to gravel as he leans down, his pelvis grinding deliciously against my clit with each thrust. “You’re going to take everything I give you.”
My orgasm builds again, fast and sharp and terrifying.
“I’m—close—I’m—”
Nick’s hand leaves my throat to clamp over my mouth just as his hips snap harder.
“Hold it,” he orders, breath hot against my ear. “You don’t come yet.”
My cry is muffled against his palm.
My entire body trembles uncontrollably beneath him, the pleasure so intense it feels like pain.
He slides down my body again, eyes dark with a feral purpose that makes my pulse sprint.
“I want to watch you break. Come now,” he growls. “Right now.”
And I do.
I fall apart so violently the ribbon burns my wrists and my legs clamp around his waist, My back arches off the bed. My vision goes white.
Nick groans like he’s in heaven.
He doesn’t stop the rolling of his hips, driving into me.
Not through my climax.
Not after.
He keeps going until I’m shaking so hard I can’t hold still.
“Nick—please—please—I can’t—”
“Not yet. Look at me,” he demands, trembling. “I want you to see what you do to me. Watch while I come in you.”
I do.
The moment our eyes lock, he pumps his hips once more and comes with a low, guttural groan he buries in my shoulder.
I feel all of it.
Every pulse.
Every shudder.
Every crack in his voice as he empties into the condom.
Once he’s done, he slowly pulls out, then reaches up and unwraps my hands, taking his time so the ribbon doesn’t burn as he tugs it off.
I drop my hands into my lap, pins and needles pricking at my skin as the blood returns.
Nick runs his hands over the red marks on my wrists, soothing them.
As I watch, the marks fade, slowly disappearing.
Then he’s gone again. I half-sit up, blinking through my post-orgasm haze.
Nick comes back into the room with a wet washcloth in his hands.
Gently, he cleans between my legs and then between his as well.
That done, he puts the washcloth on the nightstand and lies down next to me.
I scoot closer, and he slides his arm under my head.
I shift until my cheek is nestled in the crook of his shoulder, where there’s a dip that fits me just right.
I let out a soft, contented sigh and speak a single word, “Stay.”
Nick
Amber’s head is on my shoulder, her hair tickling my cheek, when she says, “Stay.” The way she says it sounds like she’s begging all over again, and that hurts something deep inside of me because this woman? I’ll give her anything she asks for. The fucking moon if that’s what she wants.
I turn and kiss the top of her head. “I won’t leave you.”
That makes her melt against me, finally relaxing although tiny aftershocks still wrack her body, making her shudder.
“I don’t know why I’m still shaking,” she says, almost like she’s embarrassed, which after everything we just did stirs a sense of tenderness deep in my chest.
“It’s because I fucked you senseless,” I say lightly, only half joking, “and because you held back for me. That takes a toll.”
Another twitch.
I stroke her hair, slow and steady, grounding her until the last tremor fades. When she finally lifts her head a little, her eyes are glassy, soft, still dazed.
“You okay?” I ask quietly.
She nods, but it’s small. Barely there.
“Overwhelmed,” she whispers into my chest.
Yeah.
Me too.
I pull her closer. “Shhh,” I soothe. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”
She quiets; her breathing slows. She shifts and peers up at me.
I give her a soft smile. “You did so good for me,” I praise, watching her eyes dilate. She likes that, being told she’s good.
Fine by me. I’ll tell her every damn day.
“I did?” she questions, staring up at me so open and vulnerable.
“Yes.” I lean down to give her a gentle kiss, just a brush of our lips. “You were perfect. Just right.”
That makes her smile, a slow sleepy smile with long blinks.
I wore her out, I think with pride.
Her breathing slows. Deepens.
A warm weight settles against me.
She’s falling asleep. Holding on to me. Trusting me even now.
I tighten my arm around her waist, press one last kiss to her temple, and whisper, “Sleep, Amber. I’m not going anywhere.”
Except… I am.
Eventually.
Not to leave her. Not a chance in hell.
But because there’s a bike in her living room with one missing bolt.
And after the way she gave herself to me tonight?
After the way she trusted me with every soft, fragile part of her?
The least I can do, the absolute least, is make sure her kid wakes up to a perfect Christmas surprise.
I wait until her breath goes slow and steady, until I’m sure she’s out, then I untangle myself. Reluctantly, I slip from the bed, grab my jeans, and tiptoe to the door. I look back at her sleeping form once, just to make sure she’s still breathing evenly, safe and calm.
Then I whisper to myself, quietly but certain:
“Don’t screw this up, Nick.”