Chapter 68
James
Her breathing comes out in pants. Her tits rise and fall. There’s a touch of panic in her eyes, but the overwhelming emotion radiating from her is excitement.
Being able to access my emotions, being able to express myself freely means, I’m able to connect with how she feels so much better.
"Remember, whatever I do, you don’t move."
She nods.
"Close your eyes."
She hesitates, then obeys.
"Good girl." A full body shudder grips her.
"You like that, Harper."
She nods.
Fuck, her ready acceptance sends heat spiraling down my spine.
"Keep your hands exactly where they are. Don't move them even after I let go." I release her wrists.
She keeps them pinned above her head.
"Perfect." I trail my fingers down her arms, over her shoulders, mapping her collarbones. "Arch your back."
She does, lifting her chest toward me.
"Jesus." I slide my palms over her ribs. "Do you have any idea how beautiful you are when you obey me?"
A moan bleeds from her. She moves restlessly but doesn’t lower her arms.
Goddamn. I’m torn between watching her writhe and fight her desire as she strives to obey me, and this need to feel her naked against me. My need wins out. For now.
I lower the zipper of her sweatshirt.
She’s wearing a sports bra. It’s tight enough to have her tits swell and bulge over the top. The elastic of the yoga pants encases her fleshy stomach and shows off her thick thighs.
I bend and kiss her.
She shivers. "You make me feel beautiful, despite my flaws."
"You are beautiful."
I continue to kiss my way down her yoga pants to her crotch. I kiss the triangle at the apex of her legs and draw in the musky scent of her arousal.
"They are not flaws. They are what makes you who you are. And, Baby, you are perfect."
I bite down on her pussy through the stretchy fabric.
She mewls, shudders, and tries to pull away. I gnaw gently on the nub of her slit, and she cries out. "Oh God. Oh God. Oh… James."
I hold down her hips, preventing her from pulling away.
Then I rub my chin between her pussy lips, using the friction to arouse her further.
Looking into her face as she groans, cries out again, mutters words I can’t make out under her breath.
The arousal on her face tells me she’s close.
I continue with my ministrations, releasing her long enough to massage my fingers across her slit.
I forge ahead in earnest, when she arches her back, and her mouth opens in a soundless cry.
"That’s it, baby. Come for me, Ember."
With a sudden jolt, she shatters. Her body seizes, then locks up; a low moan emerges from her.
I get up and kiss her deeply. I remind her, “Remember, don’t move your hands. I’ll be right back,” before I head to the en suite to grab a pair of scissors.
When I return, she’s breathing heavily, stretched out for me.
"I hope you’re not attached to those?" I growl.
"Wh-what?" She stutters.
"Your clothes. Hope you’re not attached to them. I’m going to cut them off."
"Okay," she wheezes.
"I’ll buy you new ones, I promise." I slide the scissors beneath the center of her bra, the cold metal resting against her sternum for one heartbeat. I cut with slow, deliberate movements. The blades slice through fabric with a whisper.
The ruined bra springs apart, baring her breasts.
Goosebumps rise across her skin like a tide.
I set the scissors on the bedside table, then settle back between her thighs. My hands find the waistband of her yoga pants. I drag them down her legs, peeling away the last barriers between us, along with her socks, and drop the bundle to the floor.
Then I just…look. At her. Naked. Mine.
"Spread your legs wider."
She does it at once. "Yes, Chef."
The words detonate in my chest. Heat floods my veins, pooling low in my groin, until I'm painfully hard.
"Christ." My voice comes out gravelly. "You have no idea what calling me that in bed does to me. Hearing you acquiesce to me with absolute trust humbles me. It makes me want to pleasure you and satisfy you, so you’ve never felt this fulfilled before.”
I rise from the bed and divest myself of my clothes. She watches me, arms still stretched over head, her body spread out before me like an offering.
"You’re so fucking perfect."
She drags her gaze down my body. And when I swipe my fingers down my shaft and pump myself once, her lips part. "I want to taste you."
"If you come for me one more time, I might let you."
I crawl back between her legs. Lifting her up by the backs of her thighs, I lick her from her back hole to clit.
Her entire body bucks.
"I can’t," she groans.
"You can."
I throw one leg over my shoulder, then the other. I study her pussy, enjoying the pink flesh, the dew of her cum dotting her inner thighs. My cock weeps for relief, but I ignore it. I need to make my goddess come at least one more time.
I slide my fingers inside her pussy and curl them. She moans. "That feels like too much."
"Mmm." I rub the heel of my palm into her clit. She whimpers and tries to pull away. I hold her down, then slide my fingers in and out of her. She writhes and gasps. Her face is flushed. The pink extends to her cleavage. She looks so fucking beautiful. She looks like she’s mine.
The possessive thought squeezes my groin and turns my balls into stone.
I slip another finger inside her. She whimpers. Her eyes flutter shut. "Look at me, baby."
She opens her lust-drenched eyelids. Her pupils are blown. Desire drips from every millimeter of her features.
"You’re going to come for me again."
It’s an order. One which she recognizes from the light that flares in her eyes.
I begin to thrust my fingers in and out of her. I play with the pleated opening of her back entrance.
Her eyes grow large. "James."
"I’m going to own all your holes, baby."
Her lips part. She doesn’t seem put off by the idea.
"You’d like that, wouldn’t you?"
A slow smile curves her lips. "I’ll try anything. You’ll own all my firsts."
I chuckle. "Goddamn, I love the sound of that."
I slap her pussy. And with a cry, she shatters. Her body bucks. Moisture bathes my fingertips. I continue to finger fuck her until the aftershocks subside. Crawling up her body, I paint her lips with her cum, then slide my fingers inside her mouth. She licks my fingers and makes a humming sound.
"You like the taste of your cum on my skin?"
She nods.
"You loved it when I spanked your pussy?"
She flushes deeper and nods again.
"Such a gorgeous little slut. Would you like to suck my dick before I come inside you?"
"Yes, please." She nods.
I throw myself on my back next to her. "You can let go now. But no using your hands, just use your mouth."
She moves to kneel between my legs. "You want me to suck your monster cock without using my hands?"
She stares at my dick then at my face. "I’m not sure that’s possible."
I fold my arm behind my neck.
"Giving up so quickly?"
She tosses her head. A stubborn expression filters into her features. "Challenge accepted."
"We'll see how long that confidence lasts." I settle deeper into the pillows, sprawling like I own the world. Like I'm not already half-destroyed just from looking at her.
"Clock's ticking."
She scowls, then lowers her head.
The first touch of her tongue breaks something in me. Something deeper. Something that feels like she’s lashing at the last barrier I hold for my need to have control. I lock every muscle. Force myself not to move. Not to reach for her. Not to take over like I do with everything else in my life.
This is a test for both of us. She has to figure out how to please me without using her hands. I have to let her try without controlling the outcome.
She braces on her forearms, arches her back, and uses her whole body to find the angle. The position puts everything on display—the curve of her ass, the sway of her breasts, the way her mouth stretches obscenely around my length.
It's the most erotic thing I've ever seen.
It's also the most vulnerable I've felt in my adult life.
"Look at the mess you’re making." My voice cracks.
Saliva glistens on her chin. Her eyes water from the effort of taking me without anything to hold onto.
She's exquisite, it hurts to look at her. She looks like something I don't deserve. Like something I'll ruin if I'm not careful. Like the first thing I've ever wanted to protect as much as I want to possess.
"Use your tongue." The instruction comes out ragged. "Flatten it. Let me—Christ, yes. Just like that."
She adjusts. Testing. Learning my body the way she learns a new technique in the kitchen. Methodical, determined, refusing to quit until she's mastered it.
She’s proving again that she’s my most diligent student.
Only difference? In the kitchen, I can watch her work and maintain my distance. Keep the walls up. Keep the Ice Commander persona intact, because that's what keeps me safe. Keeps everyone safe.
Here, in our bed?
Watching her struggle to take me deeper, seeing her glance up for approval, like my opinion is the only one that matters, feeling her hum with pride when I groan, turns my reality upside down.
I'm not the Ice Commander.
I'm not the decorated Royal Marine who learned to bury his feelings under tactical precision and emotional lockdown.
I'm just James. The boy whose biological parents didn’t want him. The man who's spent thirty years rejecting any form of entanglements. To the one who’s found acceptance.
And she's looking at me like I already have hers.
"Deeper, baby." I force the words out through a throat that seems to be lined with broken glass. "You can take more. I know you can."
She tries. Chokes. Pulls back with tears in her eyes.
I curl my fingers around her throat and squeeze.
Her pupils dilate, until there’s only a circle of green around her irises.
I try to tell her without words that she's safe. That I won't hurt her. That she can stop anytime, and I'll still think she's extraordinary.
"Breathe through your nose," I murmur. "That's it. Good girl. Now try again.”
She does. Sinks down again. Takes me deeper than before.
And swallows.
I increase the pressure on her throat. Feel my cock encased therein. Fuck.
The world tilts sideways.
"Harper. You’re doing so well.” My blood pumps at my ankles, my wrists, even in my balls. Surely, this is the closest I can get to a spiritual experience.
She hums around me.
Deliberately.
The vibration detonates up my spine and into my brain, scrambling every thought except that she’s mine. Mine.
"If you don't stop, I'm going to come." I warn.
Her answer is to take me deeper. To swallow again. To look up at me with those eyes that say, 'I want this,' and 'give it to me,' and 'I'm not afraid of you.'
She’s asking me for permission.
She’s also challenging me.
And telling me that she trusts me.
I extract my arm from under my neck and slide them into her hair. “You’re going to take every last drop of my cum.”
Then the orgasm hits me. It obliterates me. Tears through every defense I've built, every wall I've constructed, every lie I've told myself about not needing anyone.
My body jolts. The release decimates me. I come with a raw and broken, and entirely too honest sound. And my Ember? She takes everything I give her like it's a gift, instead of a weakness.
That’s when I release my hold on her throat. “Come with me,” I choke out on a broken, gravelly note, forcing command into my words.
Her body shudders.
I pull out of her slowly. Take in her swollen lips and tear-stained face.
Her eyes roll back in her head. With a low whimper, a gust seems to crest over her body, and she climaxes soft and sweet.
When I reach down and twist her nipple, she moans. Her body jolts. With a cry, she shatters further.
For a few seconds, I watch her flushed features. The pulse beating at her throat. The sweat drying on her shoulders.
When she raises her heavy eyelids and slowly meets my gaze, she looks freshly fucked. And horny.
She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.
My stomach tightens. My chest catches fire. Lust slams through me, causing me to harden again.
"You look completely wrecked, Chef." There’s a wicked curve to her lips.
Her cheekiness is such a turn on.
Something in my chest, something I thought had died the day my birth parents relinquished me to foster care, lurches back to life.
My parents made sure I had therapy to deal with the loss. But she’s healing what therapy couldn’t reach. Being with her gives me a place to call home. Someone to call my own.
I’m going to marry this woman. Oh wait. I already did.
"Come here." I pull her up my body, until she's sprawled across my chest. I cup her face, so I can see her eyes. "That was… You were…"
I can't find the words. Can't articulate what it felt like to watch her fight for my pleasure. To see her refuse to give up even when it was hard. To know she did it, not because I demanded it, but because she wanted to prove she could.
Because she wanted to give me something no one else ever has: her trust. Her determination. Her stubborn, alluring refusal to let me keep her at arm's length.
So instead, I show her my appreciation with action by kissing her deep and slow.
When I finally pull back, her eyes are soft. Knowing.
"I’m going to fuck you again," I murmur against her lips.
Her breath catches. "James—"
"That wasn’t a request." I roll her onto her front and maneuver her, so she’s on all fours facing the floor length mirror at the end of the bed.
"You brought me to my knees. Now I'm going to return the favor."
I enter her from behind in one sure stroke.
She cries out.
"And I’m going to use every tool in my arsenal. My hands, my mouth, my tongue."
I wait for a few seconds, letting her adjust to my size. Then I wrap my hand around her throat and bring her body flush with mine.
I kiss the side of her neck.
"I’m going to make you forget your own name."
I hold her gaze in the mirror.
"I'm going to show you what you do to me.”
I squeeze my fingers gently around her throat.
Only this time, we can both watch how my hand controls how much air she gets.
I hold her in place, squeeze her hip for leverage, then pull out and pound into her again.
We both watch as her entire body jolts.
She throws her head back against my shoulder and huffs.
“Watch.” I pinch her chin, so she has to face our entwined reflections in the mirror. “Watch what you do to me. Watch how you make me unravel, Ember.”