Chapter 13 #3
I take my time adjusting myself over Ash’s miscreant thighs, and then I sit down hard, taking his entire length into me at once. Balls-deep. My hands on his shoulders. Our eyes are chained together, one jailer and one prisoner.
I rip the belt from his slacks with a wicked hiss, and then I wrap it around his neck. I tighten the leash, making it snug. Black leather against a pale, pale throat. I yank on the end of the belt, holding both it and Ash taut. Still. I’ll make all the necessary movements.
If he doesn’t want to choke, he’ll behave.
With my knees propped on either side of Ash, I roll my pelvis against his body.
“You were a bad boy on the track,” I whisper into his ear, giving him the shivers. “But you’re going to make it up to me by groveling properly.”
Ash and I stare at each other as I ride him, one arm on the back of his neck, the other holding the leash-belt in rigid fingers.
His own fingers flex against my hips, pressing small spots of hurt into my skin, leaving sweet bruises that he can kiss away when we have the leisure to do something romantic like that.
“We’ve been at war since the very moment Aspen saw you.
” Ash nuzzles against the side of my neck, his breath erratic.
He’s been scrambling to clean up Lexi’s mess all week.
His efforts are breaking him. Knowing he’s supposed to die, that he’ll never see me again…
“But I can finish this for us, Scarlett. I can solve all our problems.”
“Fuckboys don’t need to think,” I groan, and now it’s me who’s staring at his mouth.
I can’t draw my eyes away; it’s a compulsion.
I kiss him. He tries to squirm away, so I claw his chin into my fingers and force my tongue down his throat.
Eat him up until we’re both gasping for breath.
“All fuckboys need to do is fuck and fight the battles I tell them to.”
“Oh, you think so?” he retorts, wrapping his arms around my body and jerking me hard against him.
His hands slide over my sweaty flesh, paying obeisance to my naked skin.
My lips find the side of his neck, and I bite down hard enough to make him flinch.
He spanks me, and I grin, jerking hard on the leash and relishing the shocked gasp that follows.
“I know so.” I sit back and lift up, nice and slow.
We’re still looking at each other when I come down, my pelvis meeting his.
“You’re going to willingly hand the crown over to me, so I can get us all out of this mess.
We’re leaving Prescott and the shit that goes with it in the dust. After this, we’re livin’ like squares, honey. ”
“Stop saying that.” Ash grinds his teeth, even reaches up to tug on his hair while I’m pumping my snug pussy up and down his dick. Keeping him tense with the tug of his leash. “Scarlett, please. Stop.”
I don’t stop.
I’m more aggressive than he is, fighting him when he tries to push me off.
Our mouths brush, sparking heat, and then my tongue is taking over him, conquering Ash’s mouth as he fights back with his own inner conviction.
More than anything, he wants to be with me.
Stay with me. He also believes that sacrificing himself is the only way forward.
He’s stubborn about it, his tongue pushing back against me, his hands too tight on my waist as he attempts to wrest control.
I get the feeling that a lot of people underestimate Ash Kelly.
I won’t make that mistake.
The door opens behind me, and I look over my shoulder to see the Springfield Chief of Police, Ernest Bolin, leering at the pair of us.
Ah, shit.
I almost forgot that we were in enemy territory.
Ash leans forward, putting his mouth right up against my ear.
“Keep fucking,” he advises silkily, accent caught somewhere between here and everywhere else he’s been. Aimless. Wandering. No such thing as home, that accent.
He slides the gun out from behind him. Sets it on the bed beside his right thigh. Replaces his hand on my hip. It’s difficult to make out a lot of detail in this early morning twilight, the shades pulled. A trap set for dumb ol’ Ernest. Underestimating Ash, just like I said.
Chief Bolin strolls in with imaginary impunity, pausing in the middle of the room despite finding us in this state. Unlike a normal person who’d apologize for walking in, who’d leave, this guy shuts the door with himself inside. Closes the distance between us.
Ogles my body. Drools over me.
I don’t like the feel of his eyes on me, but I concentrate on Ash instead.
Wrap my arms together behind his neck, ride him with my tits hanging out and my ass bare while he stays fully dressed.
I have the urge to spit on his fancy suit, but…
maybe later. I can defile him and ruin him later, when the chief isn’t watching. The belt leash hangs limp between us.
“Aspen,” Bolin says, and his voice is eager, desperate. “Care to share this time? You’ve been so greedy with the reporter.” He’s already unbuckling his belt, like fucking Aspen’s girls is common practice. Oh, Lemon. Please tell me you didn’t. The Cody thing was bad enough.
“Journalist,” Ash replies, smiling like a shark. That’s what kills me, the smile. It’s psychotic. Beautiful.
So glad I made him mine beforehand. If anything holds, it’ll be that. Ash is mine, and he’s been mine since the first second we saw each other. Another fact.
“It’s been a while, and you owe me,” the chief says, wetting his lips. I can’t see it, but there’s a sound. I narrow my eyes on Ash and silently order him to hurry the fuck up, or I’m done. I’ll kill the bastard with my bare hands.
“No, Aspen owes you, and I am Ash.” Ash lifts me up with an arm under my ass, swinging the gun around and firing at the same time he turns his body away from the shot, like he’s trying to spare my ears or something.
Or trying to make me see it.
The way Ash turns me at the last second gives me the perfect view of the bullet whizzing into Chief Bolin’s chest and straight out the other side, into a painting of a woman that might be Ash’s mother.
The man slumps to the floor, choking on blood, and Ash lowers his arm. Everything smells like copper and gunpowder, and he’s still inside of me. Damn. New levels of depravity reached. Murder mid-coitus.
Ash scratches at the side of his head with the handle of the weapon, the barrel pointed up at the ceiling, threatening a delicate crystal chandelier.
“He’ll live. I thought Alexei might like to have him while he’s still able to feel pain.” Ash looks at me, and he’s still smiling. But not a happy smile, the exact same smile he was wearing when he was staring at the chief. Like he’s snapped.
“You’re wicked.” The words are a pleased whisper, an adrenaline-fueled flush creeping over my skin.
“I’ve decided that I wasn’t applying myself. I can see what you like, and the most ruthless bastard wins.”
“You’re wrong,” I tell Ash with perfect confidence. “I like you because you have a pure core, something sweet that should’ve soured but never did. Something resilient.”
He exhales as I clench around him, aroused by the idea of Bolin suffering. He killed Alexei’s Papa, Pavel, with his own two hands. His pain is my gain.
Ash hurries me back into the other room—Aspen’s room.
He shuts and locks the door behind him as he goes, puts me down on the bed, and fucks me so hard that the wooden headboard creaks and the mattress groans in protest. The murder weapon vibrates off the edge of it and lands with a thunk on the floor.
Violence gets us both off. My clit is ripe, as hard as Ash’s dick. We’re both surging with adrenaline and the sweet, deliciousness of revenge served both hot and cold. Yum. Tastes great either way.
Slam, slam, slam. His cock is absolutely obliterating the crush of tight muscles in my too-pink core. Screwing me so hard. Surrendering through sex.
“Take your clothes off,” I tell him, grabbing at his jacket and pulling his face down to mine. His dark hair falls forward, mingling with my own. It’s hard to tell where one of us begins and the other ends. “I want to feel your skin.”
His lips twist into a playful smirk, bright red blood spatters on his pale cheeks.
“I’m going to kill my father next,” he says calmly, sweeping my hair back from my face. “For you, Scarlett. I’m going to kill both Jonas and Chet Senior. You’ll be free.”
I let out a small, soft chuckle of affection.
“It’s cute that you think I’d let you die for me. But sure. Say whatever you want during sex. I don’t mind a little roleplay.”
“Scarlett.” Ash stops thrusting, sitting up and starting to undo the buttons on his shirt.
His fingers shake, the pair of us so lost in passion that we’ve now forgotten about the police chief bleeding out in the next room.
“We shouldn’t be having sex at all.” He rocks his hips a few times, studying the unstoppable twist of pleasure that takes over my expression.
Feels so good to have him inside me again.
Feels even better to be right. “Widow was correct: I keep putting you in danger. Me. My very presence is ruining your life.”
His voice cuts off suddenly, lips tightening as he slips both jacket and shirt off at the same time. His eyes soften at the edges and those trembling fingers of his end up on the side of my jaw, stroking a bittersweet farewell into my skin.
This the most vulnerable I’ve ever seen him, a glimpse of the heart underneath the obsession.
“Without you, there’s nothing,” he whispers, enraptured. His words are an unholy prayer for the dark goddess that’s holding his rigid dick hostage. “I can’t go back to that nothingness; I would rather die.”
I slap him again and his eyes widen, those quaking fingers of his lifting to touch the pink mark on his pale cheek. His pupils expand with a rush of fresh desire.
“Your surrender is your sacrifice,” I tell him, baring my teeth and reaching up to grab at him. I was planning on snagging him by the belt that’s still hanging around his neck and forcing his mouth to mine. Instead, he puts a palm on my chest and holds me down and away from him.
“Bohnes is outside,” he whispers suddenly, fiercely, and my lips part. “On the windowsill. Right now.” Ash pauses and then calls out, “the police chief could use trussing.”
He returns his hungry attention to me.
Uhh. Ash isn’t nervous? Good deal. I’ll handle Bohnes.
Ash wraps his fingers around my throat this time, leaning down and nipping my lower lip. I try to wriggle my hips against him, but he grabs onto my pelvic bone and pins me down.
He keeps his hand on my neck, stroking my pulse with his thumb, biting my lip. His hips roll against me, deep and hungry and demanding. He wants all the way in, every time. Slams our pelvises together, holds it, draws out to the tip. Sinks in with aching slowness.
My fingernails scratch down his back. Knowing Bohnes is watching this through the curtains is turning me on even more. I hope he enjoys the show. I can’t wait to see his reaction to figuring out that I was right about Kelly.
Ash rolls us over, grabbing a tight fistful of my hair and giving it a tug, drawing me down for a kiss.
I’m straddling him, riding him with back-and-forth motions that keep us pinned together.
I’m just grinding us, not thrusting. He seems to like that even more, one hand locked on my hip, attention on my face.
I take hold of the belt again, and he dons this thunderously rebellious expression. Tame, but not weak. Sweet, but not frail. A fighter.
My tongue teases hungrily over my own lips, tasting the essence of him.
“Good boy,” I breathe, drawing the leather belt tight enough that Ash has to lift his head to keep breathing properly. Straining toward me. His black eyes glimmer like exoskeletons. “Ash is going to be a good boy from now on.”
I suck on two of my fingers until they’re wet, sliding them out of my mouth and slipping them down my body to my clit. I rub myself as Ash watches, fixated on the motions of my hand. When I’m about to come, he flips us again, and I let out a sound of frustration.
“You bastard,” I hiss, but he ignores me, finishing himself with these deep, satisfied groans, muscles shaking, his traitorous smile against the side of my neck.
“I’m going to kill you—” I start, but then he adjusts himself, wet cock slipping out and rubbing between my folds.
Ash grips himself with his hand and uses the sopping crown of his dick to rub my clit, twisting and twisting that feeling below my navel.
He teases me until I’m close, and then he shoves his dick back inside, thumb flicking across my clit.
That’s it.
I’m thrashing and shoving at Ash, unwinding and throwing my head back into the pillows. My muscles contract, and I can’t breathe for several seconds. When I do finally take in that next inhale, it’s a gasp, turning me boneless and fluid in the sheets.
It’s a full moon in Prescott.
Figures I’d get an orgasm from my sister’s killer.