Chapter 29 #2
A low growl rumbles in his chest as he stops me from falling while walking me backward until the backs of my thighs hit the edge of the bed.
The mattress dips as he lowers me onto it, never breaking the kiss, following me down until his weight settles over me, heavy and perfect.
I arch up into him, desperate for more contact.
The thin straps of my dress slip off my shoulders under the slow drag of his palms. Cool air kisses my skin, then his mouth is there, tracing the line of my collarbone, nipping lightly at the hollow of my throat, then sucking on my hickey until I can't tell what's pain and what's euphoria.
I moan, "Red…"
He lifts his head, eyes almost black in the low light. "Say it the right way."
"Dr. Mercer," I whisper, bolder this time, and he rewards me with a kiss that's somehow deeper and hungrier. His fingers find the hem of my dress and push it upward, inch by inch, exposing the white lace beneath. When the fabric bunches at my waist, he pulls back just enough to study me.
The hunger on his face steals what little air I have left. He mutters, voice rough, "Christ, Bluebird. You look so innocent."
The word trembles out of me. "Yes. I've saved myself for you, Dr. Mercer."
His hands skim up my thighs, thumbs brushing the sensitive skin just beneath the lace. I'm already soaked, and a drop trickles down my leg.
"Look at you," he murmurs, dark approval threading his tone. "Offering yourself like this…knowing I won't be gentle just to spare you."
"Don't be," I beg, shaking harder. I blink hard, trying to take a deep breath.
He hooks his fingers under the delicate strings at my hips and drags the panties down my legs, slow enough that I feel every second of exposure. When they're gone, he spreads my thighs wider, settling between them like he belongs there.
Then he stares.
Time freezes, growing hotter until I'm about to burst from anticipation.
Red glides his knuckles from my pussy up my torso, then grabs the neckline of my dress. "You'll never be innocent again, Bluebird."
"I know," I admit, meeting his gaze.
"Tell me to stop."
"No. Own me. Take what's yours," I manage to get out.
The corners of his mouth twitch. His other hand grabs more material, and he rips my dress in two, right down the middle.
I gasp, my lips shaking with excitement.
He slides a hand behind my back, unlatches my bra, then circles his thumbs over the lace on my nipples, before sliding it past my arms. Then he pushes my thighs wider.
I've never been this open with anyone, and I've never wanted to be. But with him, I want to give everything.
He lowers his head and presses a kiss to the inside of my knee.
I arch off the bed.
He chuckles, then he moves his lips higher, open-mouthed and hot, working his way up.
My hips lift without permission, seeking more. When his tongue finally slides through my folds, slow and deliberate, I cry out, fingers clutching the sheets.
He doesn't rush. He tastes me like he's memorizing me, long licks and gentle circles around my clit that make my thighs shake against his shoulders. Every time I get close, he backs off, soothing with soft kisses until I'm whining, begging, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes.
"Please… Red, please…"
Only then does he slide one thick finger inside me, curling it slowly, exquisitely stretching me. He adds a second, scissoring gently, prying me open while his tongue returns to my clit with devastating precision.
I come hard, back bowing off the bed, his name a broken sob on my lips. He doesn't stop, drawing it out until I'm trembling, oversensitive, pushing weakly at his shoulders.
He rises, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes locked on mine. He slowly removes his shirt. His broad chest, dusted with dark hair, narrows to the waistband of his trousers.
I sit up and reach for his belt with shaking fingers, fumbling until he brushes my hands away and does it himself.
When he pushes his trousers down, his cock springs free, thick and flushed, a bead of moisture at the tip.
My mouth goes dry.
He looks bigger than I remember from under his desk.
"Still want this?" he asks, gripping his cock, enlarging it further.
I swallow hard. "Please."
He leans over me again, kissing me softly this time. "We'll go slow. You tell me if it's too much."
I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. "Only if that's what you want."
A tiny groan escapes his throat. He warns, "Careful. If I give you what I want instead of what's slow, you won't forget it."
"I don't want to forget it."
"You won't either way," he promises, then settles between my thighs again. The head of his cock nudges my entrance, and intense pressure is immediate. He pushes in just barely, then stops, letting me adjust.
"Breathe, Bluebird."
I exhale shakily, blurting out, "Sorry."
"Shh. No sorries," he instructs, caressing the side of my head. "Now relax your pretty pussy for me." He slides his tongue back in my mouth.
I match his slow, exploratory speed, and it forces my body to relax.
He slides in another inch, and the stretch burns, but it's a good burn, the kind that makes me feel utterly claimed. He keeps going at the same slow, steady speed, pausing whenever I tense, kissing my neck, my jaw, whispering praise against my skin.
"So good for me…taking me so perfectly…my beautiful Bluebird."
"Yes. I'm your good girl," I tell him, arching toward him and wanting more.
Another sharp sting hits, but this time, he pushes past it.
"Oh god," I cry out, gasping for air.
He groans. "Fuck, you're tight."
I dig my nails into his shoulders. "More."
"You can't handle all of me right now," he cautions.
"I can. I want all of you inside me, Red."
His face goes taut, like something feral just slammed into the bars of his restraint. His jaw locks so hard, the muscle jumps. His teeth clench as he forces himself to stay exactly where he is instead of giving in to the demand in my voice.
"I decide when you get me, Bluebird," he asserts, any softness in his gaze disappearing, blown wide with hunger he's barely containing. But a flicker of pride flares, sharp and dangerous.
"Own me," I breathe, trying to move my hips, but he has my hips pinned beneath his.
His nostrils flare as he drags in a controlled breath through his nose, chest rising slowly as if he's grounding himself before he loses control completely. A vein stands out at his temple. Sweat beads along his hairline, and his expression holds equal parts warning and possession.
A new euphoric buzz dances down my spine. I beg, "Please."
"Take all of me, then," Red says. With a thrust, he pushes fully inside me and groans.
He's throbbing, hot, and impossibly deep. I feel so full, I can barely think. He stays still, forehead pressed to mine, breathing hard. "You okay?"
I nod, tears slipping from the corners of my eyes, not from pain but from the overwhelming rightness of it. I plead, "Move. Please move."
He starts slow, shallow thrusts that drag over every sensitive spot inside me.
The burn fades into pure pleasure, and soon I'm rocking up to meet him, nails digging deeper into his back.
His rhythm builds gradually, deeper, harder, until the headboard taps softly against the wall and the room fills with the sounds of our bodies coming together.
"Red...oh God! Red!" I whimper.
He pins my leg higher, kisses me, then says against my lips, "I'm holding back for you. Don't mistake that for mercy."
"Don't hold back. Please. Don't," I gasp, wrapping my leg around his waist. My heel digs into his back thigh, urging him on.
"I don't give back what's handed to me," he warns.
"No. Don't!"
He shifts his angle and hits something inside me that makes me see stars. A broken cry tears from my throat.
"Th-there," I stutter. "Right there—"
He growls and drives into me again and again, hitting that spot relentlessly. One hand slides between us, thumb circling my clit, and I'm climbing fast, higher than before. My whole body tightens, coiling, ready to snap.
"Come for me, Blue," he orders, voice rough with need. "Let me feel your pussy grasping for me." He thrusts harder three more times.
I shatter into spasms, clenching around him so hard he curses, hips stuttering. The blinding pleasure rolls through me in endless waves.
He follows moments later, burying himself deep and spilling inside me with a low, guttural groan, until hot liquid soaks the sheets underneath me.
We stay locked together, breathing hard, sweat-slicked skin cooling slowly. He presses soft kisses to my temple, my cheek, the corner of my mouth. Eventually, he pulls out gently, leaving all of him behind.
There was no condom, and we both knew it. The intimacy of that, of him marking me inside, makes fresh heat bloom low in my belly even though I'm spent.
He rolls us so I'm draped across his chest, fingers stroking lazily through my hair, undoing what's left of my updo. I listen to his heartbeat slow under my ear.
"Mine," he murmurs, so quietly I almost miss it.
I press a kiss over his heart. "Yours."
And in the quiet aftermath, with his arms wrapped around me and the scent of us thick in the air, I know there's no going back.
But I never wanted to. I knew that before I let him own me.