39. To own to is to… Salvage
Chapter thirty-nine
To own to is to… Salvage
Close by Nick Jonas
C hloe
I’m not okay, not by a long shot, but I feel like something in this estate, surrounded by its rolling hills and stained glass, might fix me. We weren’t in the jet heading back here for a few minutes before I told him about what Mistress cooed in her buzzed state. He sat quietly for only a moment, but that explosion of rage never came. He only nodded, assuring me it didn’t matter. None of it had, but I could see the turbulent waters that lingered underneath the air of calm. I opened my mouth to press before his lips slammed against mine, taking my breath. We stayed like that for the rest of the ride, barely coming up for air.
I gasp as he hauls me into his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist, tugging at every slash on my flesh, but I don’t mind. I could never mind. Because I’m here. I’m home. My core grinds against his as he climbs the stairs, and I want to tell him to stop, to beg him to let me take it all in, but his eyes catch mine, and again, I’m in technicolor .
Seen.
Perhaps for the very first time.
Chloe, but also Pup.
A woman and my master’s dog.
He doesn’t break that magnetic tension until my back meets the wall of his bathroom. I don’t miss the messy, untouched state of his room, but he doesn’t give me a moment to take it in. Whatever damage he caused himself after he sent me away needles at my heart, making my breath thin. My stomach and mind swirl, because it does that easily these days. Everything is pounding until it’s not, until my master drags me back to Earth with him. That desperate, hungry look in his eyes drowns everything else out the way only he can, making the world quiet and deafening all at the same time.
He’s reverent as he lifts the dress he gave me on the plane over my head, the one from Bloom shredded on the floor. I watch him count every mark, every slash, the way he did on the plane. The look, the shame in his eyes…the fire burning there, it makes me wonder how I ever thought him indifferent.
“Master…”
He shakes his head, swallowing hard, his eyes mapping every inch of my flesh. “I am…endlessly sorry, Chloe. This house… It was a shell without you to fill it. I was a shell. It nearly killed me, and I did it to myself. I will spend every waking moment begging—"
“Shhh,” I whisper, cupping his stubbled face in my hands. “I’m home now.”
His jaw clenches, and I can see the emotion he’s battling. “Chloe…”
I shake my head, giving him a little smile before I lean forward, letting my lips dance over his. “I don’t want to be Chloe right now; I’d rather be Pup. Your Pup.”
Hazel eyes darken as they look up, finding mine. “I will never know what I did to deserve you.”
I laugh, and the sound feels… wrong in my throat, but I know it won’t forever. One day, I’ll laugh, and I won’t feel like I’m betraying the pain festering below my sternum. “I’m not sure you do, not yet.”
He smiles back, and I swear, my heart stops cold in my chest. It’s…devastating and mine .
“You could start by making me come, though…” I offer.
And if I thought what came before was devastating, his smirk is…so fucking much more. “Anything for you, my precious pet.”
I melt.
I’m a puddle, malleable puddy in his arms, but that’s okay, because my master knows just what to do with me.
Again, I’m disturbed by how quickly that need to please, that trust in him, comes to me, but like before, I don’t question it. All I want is to be adored, not because I have something to offer, but simply because I’m me. How could I ever not bask in it when it’s so readily given by the terrifying, dangerous man in front of me? I watch his restraint crumble, and suddenly, he’s everywhere… everything . All at once, I’m panting, my body coming alive in ways it hasn’t for anyone but him as his mouth finds my nipple, lapping at the taut mound, testing and rolling his tongue in a way that makes light burst behind my eyes. I grind my soaked core into his hardened length, feeling alive because he thought me worthy of breathing it into me. My master feasts on my nipples, my fingers knotting in auburn hair as my core tightens, needing so badly to be stretched by him again.
“I—” My words cut off in a moan, his hands bruising as he holds me up, rubbing my clit hard over his pants.
“The way I’ve missed those sounds.”
I whimper, canting forward as my orgasm rips through me. He doesn’t let up, grinding me into him with measured strokes until my legs shake. My skin is flushed, my breasts reddened and swollen as he sits me down, leaving me to lean against the wall for support. The cool tile does nothing to quell the heat inside me. I watch him through lidded eyes, a demon in his domain as he turns on the shower, but instead of tugging me into it…he kneels. His fingers and lips run the gentlest path over abused, torn flesh, marks that will turn to more scars, reminders I’ll never be without again. He does it as if he’s taking penance, and when he kisses the first slash, I’m not ready for the wealth of emotion that assaults me. It's heady, and I’m drunk on it, tears pouring down my cheeks as he moves on to the next, licking and kissing the angry, gashed skin.
“Warrick…”
“ Chloe .” My name sounds like a prayer on his lips, a name he returned to me. His hazel eyes are filled with such regret as they turn toward me. I watch as my tears drip onto the handsome planes of his face. He doesn’t so much as blink, making no move to wipe them away.
“Everything will be okay now. I’m home.”
He nods, keeping his eyes on mine as he kisses the last one, his arms banding around me to hold me close to him. “I’m not a good man, not even a good person. The mistakes I’ve made could fill novels, but—" He swallows, running the tip of his nose along my flesh as he composes himself. “One of the most wrenching will be not telling you how much I adored you, how madly, stupidly in love with you I am. Sending you away will weigh down my heart long after my body returns to the Earth. Even in death, I will endeavor to earn your forgiveness.”
My chin wobbles as I close my good eye, silent sobs heaving my chest. I watch him through flawed vision, like staring at someone disrupted by hazy waters. “I love you too, Master.”
A yelp leaves my throat as he quickly rises, taking me with him like I weigh nothing at all, only letting us part long enough for him to rip his suit off and join me beneath the steam. The eucalyptus plants hung around the squared shower head tickle my shoulder as the realization of what he said settles on me.
He loves me.
Master loves me.
And he said it out loud.
Head of the House of Serpents, Basilisk, loves the sad, failed child prodigy he bought at auction.
Before my sobs burst free of my chest, he hikes me up so high, I panic. My thighs wrap around his head as my back meets the cool wall of the shower. My whole body jerks when his tongue dips out, making the tiniest of flicks across my clit. “Please.”
The only answer I get is his groan as he spears me with his tongue, flicking it inside to hit that rough patch that makes me feel everything . My hands knot in his speckled auburn hair, keeping him flush while he teases my clit, flicking and testing that tiny pulsing nub until I’m gasping like a fish out of water. It's torment, but soon enough, he relents, sucking, lapping at my cunt wildly.
He feasts like I’m the only thing sustaining him.
I roll my hips, grinding against his face, my thighs squeezing him hard as he devours me, and I’m not sure he can breathe. With a whimper, I try to move back, only to have twin arms band around me, forcing me back against his face. So, that’s where I stay, rolling and fucking his mouth until I scream out my release, my head canting back against the stained glass that lines the small windows in the tall shower with a thud. I could’ve put my head through it and barely even noticed. I’m jelly, limp in his arms, when he lowers me, his mouth claiming mine with such gentleness, if I had a conscious thought left in my body, I’m sure it would be spent on tears. He kisses me for so long that when we finally break apart, it’s with a shared gasp. It’s only then that my master enters me, stretching and filling me. My eyelids flutter, stars bursting behind them as he rolls his hips. His pace is languid and adoring, his eyes on mine, large warm hands cupping my face before he releases me.
“So perfect, my little pet,” he murmurs against my neck, drawing out my pleasure. “So beautiful, stretched on my cock.”
“Yes.”
He keeps that pace, breathtaking and lazy, mind numbing, until I clench, my core gripping and spasming around his cock. His answering moan comes in the form of my name, and I lose it all over again.
It’s hours later, after he has washed and dried me, held me and fed me, that we walk into his office. Or more so, I get up to stretch my sore body and he follows, unwilling to leave my side. Walking back into his office, tears well, bursting in my eyes as I press my palm to my chest. Shivers break out, running the length of my spine as sage and oak envelop me. I drag him through my lungs as I lean back into his broad chest. My lips part as his hands dance over my arms. “It doesn’t feel right,” I whisper somehow, still finding a way to be embarrassed, even after everything.
He stills, and the way his breath stops in his chest makes my heart flutter, but as always, he recovers quickly, slapping his stone exterior back into place. “Perhaps because you aren’t on your knees.”
A smile pulls at my lips, because he’s right. I love this game we play; I live for it. So, I drop to my knees, sighing when he strokes my hair.
“Good Pup,” he praises, pulling his fingers across my braid.
Ask him. Do it now.
I clear my throat, readying myself, only for the words to die on my tongue.
His hand stills, cupping my chin from behind to pull my gaze to him. “Something on your mind, my love?”
My love.
God, how easily he makes butterflies fill my stomach. “My collars…” I start, not sure how to continue.
I watch as his jaw clenches, nodding. “I will toss them.”
Horror and a shockingly strong wave of sadness crash into me, making my eyes go wide. “No! Please, Sir, I want them back! I feel… wrong without one. It’s stupid. I’m stupid for—”
My words cut off as his face hardens, his grip tightening on me. Those butterflies go wild, making my heart race. “ Never call yourself stupid. You like me owning you, but you feel you shouldn’t because society has made you feel that way. I would be honored to return your collars to you, but understand it will not be like before.”
“But Sir, I—”
“This time, we do it as equals. You can stop it…if you need to.”
My cheeks heat as I nod, my heart hammering in my chest as he orders me to stay put. I count the seconds, the milliseconds if I could, until he returns. His assured steps halt at my back, where the cool tickle of the chain is draped before he wraps it around my neck. The invisible weight leaves my shoulders the moment I hear it click into place. “I never wanted to be anything but yours, Warrick. ”
“I know, baby.”
This time, when I smile, I don’t need to turn around to know he is too. I can feel it the way I can feel his heat as he squats behind me, wrapping me in his arms before he lifts me from the floor, setting me in front of the fire. Wrapped in him, always wrapped in him.
There's nowhere else either of us would ever want to be.