Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Ariana
The scent of coffee and bacon drifted through the kitchen as I sat perched on a barstool by the island, drowning in one of Henry’s shirts while morning sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
The city buzzed beneath us — cars moving, people living, the world turning. But up here, everything felt still.
And right.
For all the time I’d spent wanting to escape Henry, terrified of what choosing him would mean, now there was nowhere I’d rather be.
It made me rethink everything I thought I knew about freedom.
Maybe freedom wasn’t distance.
Maybe it wasn’t running.
Maybe freedom was the first breath you took when the past loosened its grip long enough for you to feel something good again.
After last night, I finally felt free.
Free from my past.
Free from the blame.
From the version of me Victor had broken and twisted.
I took a long sip of coffee, welcoming the nutty flavor, as Henry moved around the kitchen. I’d watched him cook countless times by this point.
But watching him this morning felt different.
Because now there was nothing between us.
No more lies.
No more secrets.
Everything was finally out in the open.
He knew my scars and appreciated each and every one.
And I knew all his imperfections and wouldn’t trade them for anything.
“What are you thinking about over there?” Henry’s voice cut through my thoughts as he flipped bacon in the pan.
“What do you mean?”
He glanced over his shoulder at me. “I can feel you thinking.”
“Oh, really?”
He nodded once, setting the tongs down before walking toward me with that slow, predatory pace that made my pulse stutter.
“I’d like to think I’ve become a bit of an expert at reading your body by now, Ariana,” he murmured as he caged me in, his proximity overwhelming me.
“Is that right?”
He dipped his head into the crook of my neck, so close yet still painfully out of reach.
And he knew it drove me crazy.
“That’s right,” he rasped.
“Then instead of asking me what I’m thinking, you should be able to tell me what I’m thinking.”
He grinned that wicked, devastating smirk as he slid his palms up my thighs, fingers teasing at the thin cotton between my legs. I sucked in a breath, the scrape of his stubble against my neck sending a shiver through me.
“You’re thinking how you want me to fuck you, Ariana,” he began, teasing me through my panties.
“How you want me to pull you off this chair, haul you over to the couch, pin your stomach against it, then slam into you from behind. How you want me to pull your hair, spank you, make you teeter on that perilous tightrope between pleasure and pain.”
With every word he spoke, my breathing grew ragged until I was practically panting for him.
“Isn’t that right?” he asked, his voice rough.
“Yes,” I whispered, pulsing against him, squirming for him to touch me where I needed him.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he stepped back and widened his stance, arms folding over his chest again in a display that made my insides twist.
“Then tell me.”
I blinked, caught off guard by his sudden retreat.
“What?”
“You heard me.” He leaned close once more, his mouth brushing mine without kissing me. “Tell me to fuck you, Ariana.”
I didn’t question it. Didn’t argue. I was so desperate for him, I’d do anything to put me out of my misery.
“Please, Henry.” I swallowed hard. “I need you to fuck me.”
He didn’t move right away. Just stayed a breath away, time seeming to stand still.
Then he spun around, heading toward the stove. He turned it off and removed the pan from the heat before returning to me. Without hesitation, he slammed his lips against mine, thrusting his tongue in my mouth in a way that stole my breath.
Forcing my legs around his waist, he gripped my thighs and lifted me off the barstool, carrying me across the open living space, his lips never leaving mine. And I never wanted them to. Never wanted to stop kissing this man.
But I wouldn’t get my wish. Too soon, he tore his lips away and carefully set my feet on the floor.
Reaching for my t-shirt, he tore it over my head and spun me around, bending me over the back of the couch.
He yanked my panties down my legs, then pushed my thighs wide, his motions rough and desperate.
His body folded over mine, his lips soft as they made their way up my spine. His breath warmed my neck, causing all the tiny hairs on my body to stand on end.
“If it’s too much, tap the couch three times.”
I glanced over my shoulder at him. “What about my safe word?”
“You won’t be able to talk.”
“I won’t?”
A devilish grin tugged on his lips as he brought my panties up to my mouth.
“Open.”
My heart stuttered, a tiny voice in my head screaming at me not to do this.
Victor used to gag me, too. He’d stuff my mouth, then cover my nose so I couldn’t breathe.
The way he’d look at me with delight as he held my life in his hands was something I’d never forget.
Why would I willingly put myself in the same situation?
But this wasn’t the same situation.
Henry wasn’t Victor. He’d proven that repeatedly.
Especially last night.
So I parted my lips, allowing Henry to shove my panties into my mouth.
Unlike when Victor did the same thing, it turned me on, heat flooding through my veins.
“You like this, don’t you?” he murmured, his voice low and husky as he slid his fingers through my center, coating them in my desire. “Does it turn you on to have your mouth full of your panties?”
My only response was a moan. I closed my eyes as I basked in the feel of Henry’s fingers teasing me. Torturing me. Pleasing me.
“Now you’ll taste and smell the same thing I am.”
In a heartbeat, Henry replaced his fingers with something warm. I whimpered as he flicked his tongue against my clit, pushing a finger inside, followed by another. I was so blissed out, I barely registered when his tongue slid back, nearing my ass.
I instantly tensed, my breathing increasing.
“Relax,” Henry soothed, his motions careful and reverent.
Unlike whenever Victor would force himself on me back there.
“Let me make you feel good.”
I drew in as deep of a breath as I could and tried to relax. And when I felt his tongue against me, I couldn’t reel in the moan.
“You like that, don’t you?”
I didn’t want to admit it. I shouldn’t like it. Not after all the times Victor forced himself on me. After all the times Victor savagely thrust inside me there, causing me inexplicable pain.
But with Henry, I didn’t feel anything even remotely close to pain.
All I felt was pleasure.
“He hurt you here, didn’t he?” he remarked, sliding his tongue over the sensitive hole as his fingers gently teased my clit.
I nodded.
“Do you want me to stop?”
I hesitated long enough to feel the old fear try to claw back up my throat. But I pushed it down, shaking my head.
Henry briefly removed his tongue, and the lack of his touch left me wanting, writhing for more.
“Give me one second. Don’t move.”
I nodded, remaining in place as I stared out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the city below, my breathing seeming to echo in my ears, drowning out the sound of Henry’s retreating footsteps.
My mind raced with what we were about to do, but I was more excited than anything. I needed this. Wanted this.
When Henry returned, he placed gentle kisses along my spine. My hips. My ass. Slowly working his way back to my hole. I braced myself to feel his tongue once more. Instead, something cold landed on me.
I glanced over my shoulder to see him squirt some baby oil on me before teasing me with one of his fingers.
“Is this okay?”
With my eyes locked on his, I nodded.
“Good.”
He rubbed more baby oil onto me, then carefully slipped a finger inside.
I released a groan, burying my head in the couch as I struggled to make sense of the warring feelings inside of me.
“You feel so fucking incredible, Ariana,” he rasped as he worked his finger in and out of me. Instead of resisting, I moved with him, each thrust and twist flooding me with desire.
I felt him bend over me, his chest hair tickling my skin. Then his teeth clamped onto my earlobe.
“Do you want me to show you how good it can be?”
My pulse spiked once more, my mind reeling.
“You can say no,” he continued when I didn’t immediately agree. “Don’t think you have to do this for me. I want you to do this for you. I want to make you feel good. That’s all.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, torn between fear and desire. But I knew he’d make it good for me. And more than anything, I wanted to take back everything Victor stole from me. Didn’t want to live under his control anymore. Didn’t want to be afraid of intimacy anymore.
So I gave Henry a small nod.
“Look at me, Ariana,” he demanded.
I followed his command, my eyes meeting his.
“Are you sure?”
I held his gaze, hoping to communicate how certain I was.
Then I nodded once more.
He yanked the panties from my mouth with his free hand and thrust his tongue inside, the combination of his ravenous kiss and his finger working my ass almost too much. I barely had time to catch my breath before he shoved my panties back in, peppering kisses down my back.
I expected him to replace his finger with his erection, but he didn’t. Not right away. Instead, he took his time, stretching and preparing me.
I didn’t think I’d ever enjoy someone touching me like this, but everything about it felt incredible. His slow, deliberate motions. His murmured words of praise. His warm kisses along my skin, encouraging me.
I wasn’t sure how much more I could take. I was already overcome with pleasure.
But then his touch disappeared, his finger slipping out. I was about to glance back at him when I felt another squirt of baby oil on me.
Then something pressed against me.
Something much bigger than a finger.
My pulse spiked, and I gripped the couch tighter.
Henry leaned over me, leaving soft kisses along my shoulder blades.
“When I tell you, I want you to take a deep breath. Okay?”