51. Addy
Chapter fifty-one
Addy
T he moon is just a sliver in the sky, casting a faint light through my window when Dre's silhouette darkens it. There's no shock in me, not even a flicker of surprise, as he shoves himself through with the grace of a storm—forceful and sudden.
"Jesus, Dre," I whisper, though my voice doesn't tremble like it might have once upon a time. The familiar thud of his boots on my floorboards is oddly comforting in its predictability.
He doesn't say a word. Instead, he storms across my room, a contained whirlwind dressed in black, muscles coiled tight beneath his clothes. His ice-blue eyes are focused, sharp, missing nothing as they flick over to the door. In one swift motion, he crouches and shoves a large wedge under it, jamming it firmly in place. I know without asking that it's meant to keep the world out, to keep us isolated in this little bubble where it's just Dre and me and the night.
"Is that really necessary?" I ask, raising an eyebrow at his back. I don't even know why I'm pushing. I'm more thankful for that little wedge than I have been anything else in...maybe ever.
"Oh it most definitely fucking is," he grunts, his voice low and edged with something dark that makes my heart skip a beat.
"Okay then." I draw my knees up to my chest, watching him. He's a hurricane given human form, and yet there's this odd sense of peace that settles over me when he's here, like I'm in the eye of the storm where everything is deceptively calm.
Dre's presence fills the room, a tangible force that crackles with his barely contained fury. He stands there, an imposing shadow, his chest heaving as if he's been running from demons only he can see. Mine it seems.
I'm still perched on my bed, knees drawn up, and suddenly very aware of the scant inches of space that separate us. His anger is this living thing between us, hot and electric. It scares me, not because I think he'll lash out at me, but because it's a reminder of how much we both carry inside us, how close to the edge we are.
"Are you just going to stand there all night?" I venture, trying to keep my voice steady.
He turns on his heel, and I flinch inwardly, bracing for whatever comes next. But Dre doesn't yell or break things; instead, he strides towards me until he's close enough that I can see the storm in his ice-blue eyes. There's something feral about him tonight, something that's got nothing to do with the wedge wedged under my door or the darkness outside.
"Snowflake," he starts, and his voice is rough as gravel. "You drive me insane."
"Good to know," I reply, injecting a bravado I don't feel into my words. "Any particular reason why?"
"Because every time I think I've figured you out, you slip through my fingers like smoke." He reaches out, and before I can react, his hands are cradling my face, thumbs stroking my cheeks with a gentleness that belies his earlier aggression. "I want to crack you open, Addy. I want to rip out all your secrets and drown in them."
His admission sends a shiver down my spine, a mix of fear and longing. I should pull away, should tell him that some things are better left buried. Instead, I find myself leaning into his touch, craving the raw intensity in his gaze.
"Is that all you want?" I whisper, challenging him even as my heart races.
"No," he breathes out, and then his lips crash against mine.
It's not a gentle kiss, not with Dre's need pressing insistently against my own, not with his hands framing my face like I'm something precious, something worth his fury. His kiss is a question and an answer all at once, demanding and giving in equal measure. And when I kiss him back, it's with everything I am—every scar, every secret, every hope I've tried so hard to smother.
In this moment, with Dre's mouth moving over mine, I let myself forget about the locked doors and the battles waiting for us. Right now, it's just him and me, and the way he makes me feel seen, known, and fiercely wanted.
Heat unfurls in my belly as Dre's touch becomes a soothing exploration, his fingers trailing paths of fire across my skin. I expect him to surge forward, to take what he wants with the same fervor that crackles like electricity in the air between us. But he doesn't. Instead, he watches me with those ice blue eyes, waiting for a sign, a nod, an invitation.
"Show me," I whisper, and it's all the permission he needs.
He doesn’t hesitate. Dre's fingers glide along my skin, teasing and tantalizing every nerve ending. A low growl escapes his lips as he explores my curves with gentle yet confident strokes. I can feel the heat radiating from his palms, igniting a fire within me that begs for more.
The air around us crackles with erotic tension as he leans in closer, his breath hot against my neck, and I can't help but let out a soft moan in anticipation. Despite the tender caresses, there's an undeniable hunger in his touch that leaves me breathless and wanting.
My heart races as his he wraps his fingers around the column of my throat, firm but not suffocating. The bristle of his fingers grazing lightly against my skin sends a shiver darting down my spine. The contact isn't simply touch; it is a bold claim, raw and possessive, which has me gasping for air.
He maneuvers me smoothly until my back nestles flush against the hard plane of his chest. His fiery warmth seeping through the thin veil of our clothing acts as an aphrodisiac, fueling the simmering heat within me.
His grip tightens around my throat, cutting off my breath as he presses his body against mine. The
hard, hot length of his desire presses into my lower back, sending a shock of heat through me. I can feel every inch of him, and it makes my breath quicken and my skin flush.
He runs his other hand down my body, slipping his fingers under the elastic of my panties, sending shivers down my spine. He runs one finger along the edges of my lower lips and lets out a deep, satisfied hum as he feels how wet and eager I am. I can't help but squirm as he continues to tease me. His deep chuckle only adds to the torment, sending vibrations through my body.
“Needy little thing, aren’t you. Be a good girl and stay still, Snowflake. I’ll give you what you need.”
His breath, warm and rich with desire, ghosts over my ear as his lips brush against my skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. I can't help but arch into his touch, craving more of his attention.
I try to breathe, but his grip on my throat makes it difficult. But, even as I struggle for air, I can't help but feel a strange sense of safety and desire. This man, with his dangerous hands and heated touch, is making me feel things I've never felt before.
He guides his rough, calloused fingers to my entrance and plunges them inside without warning, a low growl escaping from his throat as I let out a loud moan in response to the intense pleasure.
“Snowflake,” he rumbles softly, his voice resonating with ardor and reverence. “You are breathtaking like this—laid bare, so intense and wholly mine .”
His final word sends an electric jolt down my spine as a shuddering gasp escapes my lips. But there’s no alarm in that tremble; it's an acceptance of the undeniable truth we’ve been skirting around.
This is unadulterated desire—raw, passionate, dirty, and yet so beautifully exquisite that it tips us over the edge, into the realm of pure ecstasy where only pleasure reigns supreme.
He moves slowly, pressing and circling with a patience I hadn't known he possessed. The sensations build, coiling tighter and tighter until I can't breathe, can't think, can only feel the crescendo that he orchestrates within me.
“Please,” the plea tumbles out, almost choked with anticipation as I clasp onto his forearm feeling the tide starting to surge within me.
“Let go,” His whispers gently stoke the flames already raging inside me. His hot breath grazing my earlobe sent waves of pleasure rippling through me. “I’ve got you. Come for me, baby.”
And I do. I shatter spectacularly as if shot through with lightning—the raw intensity leaving me helpless as he cradles my convulsing body against his chest with whispered words that sound a lot like love.
His relentless dance continues without a pause—thumb circling that sweet spot, two fingers buried deep inside exploring my wet depths. Every stroke sends a wave of pleasure, each wave more powerful than the last. I moan and squirm under his touch, my body a puppet to his skilled maneuvers.
His fingers plunge deeper, hitting that velvety wall inside me while his thumb presses firmly against my clit. He bites down, his teeth pressing into the skin where my neck meets my shoulder as he squeezes my throat. The combination sends an electric shock through my body, triggering another tidal wave of intense pleasure.
I whimper out his name as another orgasm crashes over me, leaving me panting and spent. But still, Dre doesn't stop; instead he presses gentle kisses along my neck, whispers sweet nothings in the afterglow.
But reality intrudes with the sharp click of my lock, and I jerk in Dre's arms as someone tries to force their way into my sanctuary. The wedge Dre had shoved under the door is an immovable object; it holds firm even as the handle jiggles violently from the outside.
"Adelaide! Open this door right now!" William's voice, always so commanding, now drips with fury.
Fear spikes through me, but it's quickly replaced by a strange sense of safety as Dre's arm tightens protectively around my waist. His anger is a tangible thing, a dark force that rises to meet the threat on the other side of the door. And though the walls seem to shake with William's rage, Dre's presence is a fortress, impenetrable and unyielding.
"Snowflake," Dre says softly, turning my face to his. "No matter what happens, I'm here. You remember that."
His kiss lands on my forehead, a promise and a vow, just as William's shouts echo through the night, a storm raging against the calm Dre and I have found within the eye.
The moment of tranquility shatters as Dre's body tenses like a coiled serpent. He pulls away from me, the warmth of his touch replaced by a sudden chill that seeps into my bones. I watch, heart hammering in my chest, as he fishes out the knife, its blade catching the moonlight sneaking through my curtains.
"Stay here," he growls, low and dangerous, before he storms over to the door.
I can only nod, frozen in place, as he kicks the wedge with brutal force. The door flings open with such violence that it seems to recoil from his fury. In an instant, he's on William, the edge of the storm now inside my room.
"Oh!" I hear myself yell, but it's like my voice comes from somewhere far away.
Dre doesn't even flinch at the sound; his focus is laser-sharp on William. With the knife at William's throat, pinning him against the wall, Dre's body is a shield between me and whatever threat looms in the hallway.
"Listen closely," Dre's voice is a venomous whisper, every word laced with deadly intent. "You're going to step back, turn around, and forget this night ever happened. If you so much as breathe wrong towards her again..."
William tries to respond, a feeble attempt at authority that falls flat in the face of Dre's wrath. But Dre isn't having any of it. His fingers tighten on the handle, the blade pressing just enough to warn without drawing blood.
"She doesn't belong to you anymore. You will not fucking touch her. Or I swear to God they will never find your body. Understand?" Dre demands, and the word is not a question but a command that expects no other answer than silent obedience.
My heart thunders, a chaotic symphony against the backdrop of raised voices and the knife that glints dangerously in Dre's hand. His words should scare me—they're meant to terrify—but instead, they send an unexpected surge of heat through my veins. I'm freaked out, not by Dre himself, but by the fact that this display of violence, this promise of protection, it does something to me.
My breath catches as I watch them, the predator and the prey, locked in a silent battle of wills. It's terrifying—the raw power emanating from Dre, the way he stands ready to strike, to protect, to claim vengeance. And yet, amid the fear, there's an undeniable thrill that courses through me, a dark fascination with the lengths he'd go—to keep me safe, to keep me his.
"You think you can command me in my own home? Do you know who I am? What I'm capable of?" My father's demand slices through the raw energy of the moment, but all I can focus on is the curve of Dre's back, the set of his shoulders as he stands between me and whatever consequence looms beyond that door.
"Stay away from her," Dre commands again, his voice a low growl that seems to resonate with every fiber of my being.
I clasp my hands together, fingernails digging into my skin as I watch, conflicted by fear and fascination. The sick part of me that finds arousal in Dre's dominance is at war with the reasonable side that knows there will be repercussions for tonight—repercussions I'm not sure I have the strength to face. But as I stand there, in the eye of the storm, I realize I'm not afraid of Dre. It's the consequences of his actions that terrify me—the ripples that will spread through my already tumultuous life.
William's body stumbles back from the force of Dre's shove, and I hear him grunt as he regains his footing. The next sound is the solid thud of my bedroom door slamming shut. I watch, almost in slow motion, as Dre jams the heavy wedge back under the door with a swift kick. His movements are precise, efficient, born of an instinctual need to protect.
He turns to face me, his eyes burning fiercely—a stormy blue that seems both violent and tender. "I'm not going anywhere," he says, and there's a resolute firmness in his voice that makes me want to believe him despite everything. "One of us will be here every night. You're not alone anymore. He will never fucking touch you again."
I swallow hard, feeling my heart thunder against my ribcage. Alone has been my reality for so long—it's familiar cold touch wrapped around me like a shroud. Part of me yearns to reach out and grasp the lifeline Dre is throwing, but fear anchors me in place.
"Every night?" My voice is barely above a whisper, laced with the skepticism that has kept me safe until now. "Why? Why would you do that?"
"Because someone has to." His jaw clenches, and I see the protective fury still simmering beneath his skin. "Because you deserve better than what you've been given. Because... fuck, Snowflake, because we care about you, even if you don't understand why."
The idea of it—of not being alone—is intoxicating, and terror grips me because hope is a dangerous thing. It's the light that promises warmth only to burn when you get too close. I've learned that lesson well.
"Snowflake?" Dre steps closer, reaching out as though he wants to pull me into his orbit, away from the doubts and fears that have always haunted me. "Do you believe me?"
I want to. God, how I want to. But belief is a leap, and I've never been good at jumping. "I'm scared," I confess, the words tumbling out, raw and honest. "Scared to hope, scared of what comes next if I do."
"Then don't jump yet," he says softly, understanding in his gaze. "Just take a step. We'll be right there with you."
I nod, my breath catching in my throat as I meet his unwavering stare. Terrified to give in, terrified not to—I stand on the precipice, with Dre offering his hand, asking me to trust in something I've never had before.
"Okay," I finally say. "One step." And for the first time in a long time, the darkness doesn't feel quite so all-consuming.