Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Ariana
Henry’s lips moved against mine, and everything else slipped away — pain, fear, memory, even air. There was only him. Only us. And this kiss that stole my breath and jumpstarted my heart at the same time.
His mouth was warm and insistent, a mix of heat and hunger, but laced with something deeper. Restraint. Reverence. Respect . It was just a kiss. Just two lips pressed together, two tongues exploring.
Yet it felt much more intimate than any of the times Victor had forced himself on me. I’d learned how to shut down. Disengage. Go somewhere else mentally. It was the only way to survive what he put me through.
But right now, I didn’t want to shut down. Didn’t want to disengage. Didn’t want to go somewhere else mentally.
I wanted to anchor myself to the present. To this moment I’d chosen.
And god, it felt good to choose. To crave. To want and be wanted in return.
Henry’s tongue swept across mine, coaxing rather than controlling, and I melted into him. Every part of me felt like it was waking up after a long winter, numbness giving way to need.
And not just for his mouth. I wanted more of him.
I wanted all of him.
But before I had a chance to deepen the kiss even more, Henry tore away. His eyes were wild, pupils blown wide, chest heaving through his ragged breaths.
“What are you doing to me?” he whispered, like he didn’t trust himself to speak louder.
With a smirk, I lifted a brow at the very obvious tent beneath the towel. “From where I’m standing, it looks like I’m turning you on.”
He cupped my cheek, gripping me like I was the only real thing he could hold on to.
“You’re going to make me break all my damn rules,” he rasped, his lips a breath from mine.
“Rules are made to be broken,” I whispered.
That was all it took. With a low growl, he slammed his mouth back against mine.
His kiss turned frantic, stealing my breath as he moved a hand to my hip and guided me across the room. When the back of my knees hit the bed, I fell onto the mattress with a soft thud, looking up at him with hungry eyes.
He stood above me for only a moment. Then the towel dropped, and I had to remind myself to breathe.
He was beautiful. Like a Greek god. All muscle and scars and shadows. Real and raw and mine, if only temporarily.
With heat in his gaze, he crawled on top of me, his eyes tracing over every inch of my face, as if he were trying to imprint me to memory.
Then he lowered his lips to mine and kissed me again.
It was chaos and control, his tongue tangling with mine like he couldn’t get enough, his hands caressing me like I was something fragile. He had all the power in the world to take, and yet he gave, each movement deliberate, bordering on restrained.
I ran my palms over his chest, desperate to explore every inch of him.
And he let me. He didn’t stop me as I traced the scar along his spine, then another near his shoulder blades. I mapped his body like it was a story I wanted to read over and over again.
With each brush of my hand against his skin, he kissed me harder until the taste of him was carved into my soul. A slave to sensation, I wrapped my legs around his waist and rolled my hips in slow, teasing pulses.
“Fuck,” he groaned, tearing his lips from mine and burying his head in the crook of my neck.
His unshaven jawline was invigorating on my skin, making me feel more alive, more desperate, more in control than I ever had before.
“Do you feel what you do to me, Ariana?” He rocked against me, pulling back and framing my face in his hands.
“Ever since that gala, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, and I hated myself for it.
But that was before…” He trailed off, swallowing hard as his gaze briefly floated to my torso.
But I didn’t want him to feel guilt or regret or shame.
I didn’t want to bring my past into whatever this was.
“Then have me, Henry.” I reached for him, threading my fingers through his hair. “I’m yours.”
He searched my face for reassurance that I was okay with this. Finally, he touched a light kiss to my lips.
“If you want to stop at any time, tell me. I’m not going to force you to do something you’re not ready for. You don’t owe me anything.”
“I wouldn’t want to leave you with a raging case of blue balls,” I joked, needing to do something to break the tension.
But he didn’t laugh. Didn’t waver. Just kept his unrelenting gaze trained on me.
“I’ll happily suffer through weeks of blue balls if it means you never feel pressured. Everything we do… It’s your choice.”
It felt strange to hear those words when nothing had been my choice for years.
I slid my hand behind his neck, pulling him toward me until our foreheads touched, our breath mingling in the narrow space between us.
“Then Henry?”
His eyes dropped to my lips. “Yes?”
“I choose…” I began.
“Yes?” he repeated when I didn’t say anything further, the distance between us growing shorter and shorter.
“For you…” My lips softly brushed against his in a ghost of a kiss.
“Yes,” he said again, this time more of a moan than anything else.
“To fuck me.”
He didn’t move right away. Just remained in this place as my confession hung in the air between us.
Then he growled as his lips found mine once more.
There was nothing careful about his kiss. Just heat and want and that raw, unfiltered ache that had been simmering between us for days. His hand slid into my hair, fisting gently as he angled my head to deepen the kiss, his tongue stroking mine with a promise that made my whole body tremble.
“Can I take this off?” he murmured, his fingers grazing against the side of my bra.
I answered by reaching behind me to unhook it before tossing it aside.
His eyes turned molten. His hand cupped my breast with excruciating gentleness, thumb brushing over my nipple. Then he lowered his mouth to it.
His touch was soft, barely there, but by the way my body shuddered in response to the pleasure coursing through me, you’d think I just had a mind-blowing orgasm.
“You okay?”
I nodded, breathless.
“Words, Ariana. I need you to say you’re okay. That you want this.”
“I want this,” I managed to croak out. “Want you.”
His voice dropped an octave. “Good girl.”
Henry’s words caused an inexplicable heat to rush through me. For some reason, I wanted to be Henry’s good girl. Wanted to please him.
Not out of fear or retribution, like with Victor.
But out of choice.
As Henry sucked on my nipple, a low moan fell from my throat, and I closed my eyes, losing myself in the sensation. A beat later, his teeth grazed me, biting just enough to send a jolt through my nerves.
“You okay?” he asked again, his voice thick with restraint.
I threaded my fingers into his hair, keeping him locked in place. “I’m goddamn fantastic. Don’t you dare stop.”
He chuckled, low and wanton, the sound vibrating against my skin. “Yes, princess.”
He returned his attention to my breast, sucking and biting, treating me to an exquisite combination of pleasure and pain.
In my experience, the two didn’t go together. There was only pain. Only torment. But Henry made pain pleasurable. He made the torture my body felt delicious. And I wanted more.
He moved lower, trailing kisses along a heated path down my sternum, then against my ribs. When he reached my stomach, I tensed out of instinct.
Victor’s cruel words echoed in my head, telling me no one would want me after the way he’d cut up and destroyed my body. I feared now that Henry was seeing all the ugliness up close, he’d change his mind.
He didn’t.
He didn’t even pretend they weren’t there.
Instead, he kissed them.
Every single one.
Slow. Gentle. As if each mark deserved an apology.
“Beautiful,” he whispered against a jagged line above my hip. “Every fucking inch of you is a goddamn masterpiece.”
I blinked hard, trying to keep the tears at bay, but they came anyway.
“Shit,” he said, lifting his head, worry creasing his brow. “Did I hurt you? I can stop?—”
“No.” I cupped his face, my thumb brushing his cheek.
“Please don’t stop. It’s just…” I drew in a deep breath, collecting my thoughts.
“It’s been a long time since anyone called me beautiful.
A long time since anyone made me feel beautiful.
” I averted my gaze. “A long time since I’ve felt beautiful. ”
He touched my chin, forcing my eyes to his, not allowing me to escape this. Escape him.
“That’s exactly what I’m going to do,” he said. “Make you feel beautiful. And never let you forget it. Even when this is all over.”
The words twisted something bittersweet and sharp inside me. Because this would end. Whatever this was. However perfect it felt, it wasn’t built to last.
But that didn’t matter. All that did was right now. This moment. And I never wanted anything more than I wanted Henry Fontaine.
He moved down my body once more, kissing each scar like they were sacred. When he hooked his fingers into the waistband of my panties, he arched a brow, silently asking permission to see all of me.
I lifted my hips, allowing him to slide them down my legs and toss them onto the floor.
His gaze dropped between my thighs, hunger tightening the lines of his face. Slowly, he slid his hands up my legs and pushed them wider. Every heartbeat felt like static electricity under my skin, every brush of his hands sending sparks to my core.
He settled between my thighs, and my body grew tight with anticipation, my heart beating a maddening rhythm.
“Relax…” Henry soothed, pressing kisses up the insides of my legs. “I want to make you feel good. Want to taste you. Want to make you come all over my tongue.”
A shiver rolled through me, my breath catching. No one had ever said anything like this to me. Sure, when I first met Victor, he was charming. Said all the right things to make me fall for him. But he never spoke openly of his desires or his need for me.
Sex had always been about him. His needs. His desires. Not mine. I was young, only nineteen. I’d never had sex before and assumed that was how it was supposed to be. After all, he was an older, cultured man.
I was too star struck to realize he’d simply preyed on my innocence.
“I just… I’ve never done this before,” I confessed, the words coming out in a rush.
He paused, his eyes floating to mine. He didn’t question me. Didn’t press for more information about how I could be twenty-eight and have never done this.
“All the more reason for me to make it unforgettable,” he said with a lazy smile. “Now relax and let me show you how incredible it can be.”
I exhaled, letting my head fall back against the pillow. My body trembled, but I tried to release the tension and get out of my memories.
Then I felt him slide a finger up my slick center, and a moan escaped my throat before I could stop it.
“So wet,” he murmured, his husky voice hitting me in places I’d forgotten still existed. “So delicious.” He dragged his tongue along my seam before closing his mouth around my clit and sucking just once. Just enough to steal my breath. “So fucking perfect.”
“Oh, god.” My hips jerked, a helpless reaction, and he growled against me like a man starved.
He devoured me, setting a rhythm that left no room for thought. Every sensation was overwhelming in the best way — his tongue licking, fingers teasing, breath feathering heat across soaked skin.
I gripped his hair in my hands, trying to ground myself to something. When he slid a finger inside me, then another, I cried out, the pressure building too fast, too sweet.
I was so close to unraveling, but I didn’t want this to end. Wanted to relish every swipe of Henry’s tongue against my clit. Every thrust of his fingers inside of me. Every delicious moan that fell from his throat, making me feel more cherished and wanted than I ever had.
“Don’t fight it, princess. Let yourself go. Let yourself feel . Let yourself feel me .”
He returned his tongue to me and increased the pace, pushing me to the very edge. Then he nibbled on my clit, and I lost what little control I’d been able to maintain.
My orgasm ripped through me, wave after wave cresting and crashing until I was gasping, shaking, drenched in sensation. But Henry didn’t stop. He kept worshipping me, coaxing every last tremor until I was raw and uninhibited and free.
I blinked through the haze as he crawled back up my body. His hair was mussed from where I’d gripped it, and my desire glistened on his lips.
“Are you okay?” he asked, searching my face for any hint of shame or regret.
But he wouldn’t find it. Not right now. Maybe later the reality of what we did might hit me, but we were in a bubble. And I was more than happy to stay in this bubble if it meant more orgasms like that.
I looped my arm around his neck and urged him toward me.
“Never better.”
I pressed my lips against his, tasting myself on his mouth. I should have felt awkward, maybe. But it only turned me on more. Like I was reclaiming my autonomy and desire.
“I need more of you, Henry.” I wrapped my legs around his waist, relishing in the sensation of his erection as it rubbed against my clit. “Need you inside me.”
“If it gets to be too much, tell me and I’ll slow down. Or stop. You’re in control. You call the shots.”
“I’m in control.” It came out as a mix between a question and a statement.
“Exactly.”
“In that case, I don’t want you to treat me like I’m made of glass or like I might break. I don’t want you careful. I want you. All of you. I want to know what it’s like when you’re completely free. Be free with me, Henry. I’m yours.”
He studied me for what felt like an eternity, and I braced for him to tell me he wasn’t comfortable with this, considering everything he now knew about me.
Then he slammed his lips against mine, rougher than he ever had before.
“You’re a goddamn warrior, Ariana.”
His statement hit me harder than I expected. I’d never felt particularly strong. And I definitely never felt like a warrior. But that was what Victor wanted. He wanted me weak so he could control and manipulate me.
I wasn’t that woman anymore.
Henry straightened, and I relaxed the grip my legs had on him. As he brought his erection up to my entrance, I whimpered, my hips tilting instinctively toward him.
“I’ll give you what you want,” he began, teasing me to the point of madness. “But my promise still stands. You’re not here for my pleasure. This is for your pleasure, too. Okay?”
“Okay,” I exhaled, my breathing increasing as anticipation coiled inside of me.
“Okay.” He leaned down and kissed me. Soft. Light. Tender.
Then he thrust into me in one, deep stroke.