Chapter Four #2
“I love this little act you’re putting on, sweetheart,” he murmurs. His fingers move faster, working me open, owning me. “Like you don’t already know how this is gonna end.”
I choke on a moan, my thighs shaking, my hands pulling him closer, but it’s not enough. I need more. I need all of him.
The ache is excruciating, unbearable. I press closer, hips tilting, chasing him—chasing what I know only he can give me.
“Please,” I cry.
I don’t care if it’s desperate. I am desperate. In so many ways.
The corner of his mouth lifts. “I won’t give you what you want, Gemma.”
His fingers slow. Then he pulls back, removing his hand completely, leaving me aching, empty, furious.
A broken, frustrated noise escapes me, but he just leans in, brushing his lips against my ear, his voice so dark and thick with promise, I swear I can taste it.
“Not until you give me what I want.”
I shudder, my nails digging into his shoulders, because I already know what he wants.
It’s not just my body. It’s everything. My admission. My surrender.
He wants me to come back. To say it. To beg.
“You need me, Gemma,” he murmurs, his thumb skimming my bottom lip. “I see it. I feel it.” His hand trails down my throat, lower, lower, stopping just above my breasts. “You’re shaking for me. So wet for me.”
I suck in a breath, my legs quivering from how badly I need him inside me.
He leans in, his mouth just barely grazing mine. “Say it.”
I shouldn’t say it. I shouldn’t mean it. But, God, I do.
“I need you, Alder.” My voice is wrecked, raw, ruined, my body shaking. “Save me. Please.”
His growl is pure sin, and with a sudden, sharp tug, he yanks my panties to the side. The fabric rips, the sound loud in the quiet night, as he makes damn sure there’s nothing left between us.
Alder hooks his arms under my knees, yanking me closer and spreading me wide with a strength that’s both thrilling and utterly terrifying.
As he moves me, my gaze catches on the swaying grass, and the tarot card I don’t remember letting go of.
It pulses with an otherworldly glow, the faint light drawing my attention as the figures on its surface shimmer and shift.
Their limbs entwine, melding into one another, hungry for each other, pulsing and changing and very much alive.
That’s impossible. I blink, my vision swimming, unsure if it’s real or a trick of my alcohol-soaked mind. I’ve had too much to drink. Too much Alder.
“Look at me, Gemma.” His deep, impossible-to-ignore voice snaps me back to exactly where I belong.
I can’t fight him. I don’t want to.
“You don’t look away.” He brushes his thumb over my jaw, his fingers down the column of my neck. “You keep those pretty fucking eyes on me. Understand?”
“Yes,” I whisper, my voice trembling.
“Good.” The clink of his belt buckle echoes in the stillness followed by the slow, torturous slide of his zipper. “Now let me remind you what it means to belong to me.”
I whimper, anticipation coiling tight, making every nerve in my body scream for him.
He spreads me wider, his cock replacing the ruined lace, the thick, swollen head brushing against my entrance, teasing, taunting.
“Fuck,” he groans, his jaw clenching as he watches me struggle to stay still.
The slow, unbearable drag as he pushes into me makes me cry out, the mix of pleasure and pressure stealing my breath. He fills me completely, stretching me, spoiling me.
I arch into him, legs tightening around his waist.
“You don’t ever have to worry again, sweetheart.” He thrusts, slow and teasing. “You need a house? Done.”
Another thrust, deeper this time, punishing.
“You need a new car? Consider it yours.”
I moan, my body tightening around him, every syllable dragging me closer to the edge.
His pace quickens, rougher, more demanding, driving into me like he knows exactly what I need before I do.
“You’ll never have to check your bank account again.” His words are hot and sharp, each one punctuated with a stroke that steals my breath.
“You’ll never have to struggle, never have to wonder if you’re gonna make it.”
He thrusts again, his cock hitting that spot that makes my vision blur.
“I’ll put a black Amex in your name and deposit six figures in your account just to see you smile.”
I whimper. Nothing has ever sounded so fucking good.
“I’ll buy you whatever the fuck you want.” His mouth is everywhere, kissing, biting, licking. “You want diamonds? Pick ’em out.”
Another thrust, another shock of pleasure that has me clawing at his shoulders.
“You want your own driver? I’ll have one waiting in the morning.”
The promise drags me under, the idea of never worrying again, of being wrapped in this life, in him, safe, secure, and fucked-out.
My hips tilt, body desperate for more, for everything.
“Say it,” he growls against my throat, his tongue flicking out to taste me. “Say you want it.”
I do. I want all of it. The money. The security. The life. Him.
I want to never have to fight again, to never have to wonder if I’m going to make it.
“I want it,” I whisper.
He groans, deep and satisfied, his hips snapping forward.
“You fucking have it.”
His thumb slides between us, pressing against that aching bundle of nerves, stroking in perfect, practiced circles.
I shatter around him, pleasure crashing through me, his cock still driving deep as I come hard, gripping him like I’ll never let go.
Alder groans, thrusting faster, chasing his own pleasure. “You’re mine now, Gemma.”
My vision flickers, and black spots dance around the edges. The world tilts, and a strange dizziness twists in my chest as the stars above swirl and spiral. The moon dims for a heartbeat, its light faltering, sputtering, then blazes again.
I blink hard, trying to ground myself in Alder—in his hands gripping me, his body moving against mine, anchoring me in his promises. But the world around us continues to spin, and I am untethered, out of sync, floating between pleasure and something I can’t quite name.
My gaze falls to the tarot card, its faint glow pulsing in time with the punishing rhythm of Alder’s thrusts.
The lovers depicted on the card shift, their forms blurring, melting into one another, becoming something whole, something eternal.
A shimmering energy radiates from them, hypnotic and alive, and I can feel it breaking open within me.
My skin tingles, static crawling beneath the surface, and I dig my fingers deeper into his back, desperate for something solid, something real. But the dock beneath us seems to tilt, dissolving into the same surreal haze that’s creeping into my mind.
Alder’s rhythm stutters, his grip tightening, and with a low, guttural groan, he spills into me, his body shuddering against mine.
For a moment, everything halts.
The only sounds are the ragged echoes of our breaths and the gentle lap of water against the shore.
My body hums, my limbs heavy, every nerve throbbing from the aftershocks of him.
Alder’s forehead presses against mine, his breath warm and uneven, and when he finally pulls back, his hands are still on me, smoothing down my thighs, gripping my waist, like he’s reluctant to let go.
“You won’t run from me again.” His voice is quieter now, but it’s no less commanding. “Not tonight. Not ever.”
Acceptance twists deep in my chest.
For the first time, I don’t want to run.
I don’t want to face the reality waiting for me beyond this dock—the bank account that’s running dry, the career I have to rebuild, the months ahead filled with uncertainty and exhaustion—the cold, sharp edges of a life that doesn’t want me back.
With Alder, there’s none of that.
There’s certainty. There’s security. There’s money.
And right now, those are worth more than any promise of love ever could be.
I swallow hard, adjusting my dress as he fastens his belt, the lingering warmth of him still inside me, still on my skin.
Alder stretches out on the dock beside me. His chest rises and falls, his eyes half-lidded as he looks at me.
“Lie with me,” he murmurs. “Just for a minute.”
I settle beside him, and the moment I do, his arm drapes around me, pulling me in like I never left.
“We’ll only stay for a minute,” he says again, but his voice is thick, lazy, satisfied.
And I know we’ll stay as long as he wants us to.
I breathe out slowly, sinking against him, my cheek pressed to his chest.
“Only a minute,” I whisper, like I’m still pretending I have control. Like I haven’t just made the choice I swore I never would. Like I haven’t already given in.
I let out a long breath, my gaze drifting to the stars.
They’re brighter now, scattered like diamonds across the dark expanse of sky.
The moon catches my eye, a crescent sharp and thin as a sliver of glass.
My brow furrows. I could’ve sworn it was full earlier.
I blink, my eyelids growing heavy, vision blurring with the pull of sleep.
The night feels…different. The sounds of the lake are faster, rushing, sweeping, as though we’re no longer where we were before. But that’s absurd. That’s impossible. That’s the champagne talking.
The steady beat of Alder’s heart, his promise of security, his unshakable certainty lulls me into that space between awake and asleep. I close my eyes, letting the warmth of his body pull me deeper.
And for the first time in a long time, I let myself go.
I let myself rest.
I let myself be taken care of.