Chapter Sixteen
Sierra
C onnor’s breath was hot against my neck, his muscular chest pressed to my back, his heartbeat a wild drum against my skin. I could still taste myself on his lips as I lay there trembling, my body relaxing from feelings I didn’t even know were possible.
From the way his big bulge had ground against me yesterday, hard and insistent, and how he’d pleasured me with his tongue today, he’d given me everything.
I turned in his arms, my pulse skittering as I faced him. His eyes were heavy-lidded, dark as a storm, his lips swollen from devouring me.
“Sierra,” he warned, voice graveled, but I pressed a trembling finger to his mouth. I wanted to give him even just a fraction of what he’d given me.
“My turn,” I whispered, fingers skimming the sweat-slicked planes of his chest. His muscles tensed under my touch, ridges and valleys carved by years of fighting now trembling for me, and I felt him suck in a sharp breath .
“Is that so, sweet girl?” His eyebrow arched, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips like a dare.
I nodded, courage fraying but tethered by the need to give, to unravel him just as he’d unraveled me. My hands slid over his chest, tracing down his rippling abs that I wanted to lick down one day. His skin was hard yet soft under my palms, his muscles taught as I dragged my nails down his V-line.
“ Fuck ,” he hissed, hips jerking.
“You… you always take care of me,” I whispered, fingers fiddling with the waistband of his boxers. “Let me do this for you.” It took everything in me to look up into his dark eyes.
His hand closed over mine, stopping me. “Sierra, you don’t have to?—”
“I want to.”
The words burst out, bolder than I felt, my cheeks burning. “Please, Connor.” I really needed to do this. For him, for me.
He watched me silently, his jaw clenching as my hand drifted lower. His hand over mine loosened, not stopping me, just holding.
“Slow,” he warned, his voice rough. “And you stop when I say.”
I nodded, my throat tight, slowly tugging the fabric down. His huge cock sprang free, thick and veined and impossibly real, the tip glistening with precum.
My mouth watered, stomach flipping, but I forced myself to meet his eyes. “Teach me,” I breathed.
A low groan rumbled in his chest. His hand slid into my hair, just cradling it as if I were delicate. “I want you to breathe,” he instructed, thumb brushing my cheek. “Eyes on me.”
He stood up off the bed, moving to stand at the edge so his huge cock was level with my mouth and I could remain sitting.
I obeyed, locking onto his stormy gaze as my fingers tentatively wrapped around his thick length. He groaned, his head falling back, and his Adam’s apple bobbing.
“Just like that, you’ve got it.”
He let me explore the silken heat of his skin, the way his pulse thrummed under my thumb, the heavy weight of him in my hand. Precum slicked my palm, and I swiped my thumb over his tip, earning a choked curse.
“Good girl,” he rasped, hips rolling slightly.
Emboldened, I stroked him slowly, marveling at how his breath hitched, at the way his jaw clenched like he was fighting for control. More precum beaded at his tip, and without thinking, I leaned forward and licked it off with my tongue.
“Fuck—!”
His hand fisted in my hair, pulling my head back. “Did I say you could use your mouth?” His eyes were blazing, his voice firm and commanding.
I whimpered, the pull mixing with the heat between my legs. “N-no, but?—”
He shut me up with a kiss, bending low to meet me. It was desperate and rough, but his hands stayed gentle as they slid down to cup my naked breasts, thumbs circling my nipples until I leaned into him.
He knelt on the bed after, his mouth trailing fire over my throat, my collarbones, and the swell of my breasts. When his tongue flicked my nipple, I arched into him with a gasp.
“You’re shaking,” he observed, voice thick.
“I’m fine!” I insisted loudly, surprising us both. I was tired of constantly trembling. “Please let me, Connor,” I breathed, pleading like a girl I never would have recognized.
He chuckled darkly, guiding me back to my knees and standing at the edge of the bed again.
“Eyes stay open,” he ordered, dragging the tip of his cock over my lips. The velvety head left a glistening trail, and I desperately wanted to lick it off.
“I decide when I want in. Understood? You just sit there like a good girl.”
I nodded obediently, my lips parting instinctively, but he pulled back with a smirk. “Ah-ah.” He tapped my cheek with his palm, the touch light but deliberate.
“Watch me.”
I stared up at him, my breath shaky, as he traced his tip slowly over my jaw as if memorizing me with his cock .
He traced along my jaw, cheekbone, and nose like a painter with a crude brush. “So fucking pretty,” he murmured, dragging himself down my lips. His other hand cradled my face, thumb pressing against my bottom lip in encouragement.
“Open.”
I opened immediately, and he fed himself to me slowly, inch by inch. My jaw stretched as I took him deeper, but his groans, raw and unfiltered, fueled me.
“That’s it,” he rasped, hips twitching. “Take it, sweet girl. It’s yours.” His eyes were dark and hungry, and his gaze never left mine the whole time. He stopped when he was only halfway in my mouth and nodded.
“Suck,” he ordered, voice rough.
I closed my lips around him, my eyes tearing up just a bit as I tried to suck him in the only way that seemed right.
Connor groaned, the sound vibrating through me. “Yes—just like that.” His hips jerked, but he held himself still, his hand stroking my hair. “Fuck, you were made for this.”
The praise went straight to my core, my thighs squeezing together again as I took him deeper. He let me learn him, the salty taste of him, the way his veins throbbed under my lips, before tightening his grip in my hair.
“Such a good fucking girl,” he growled, and I preened under the praise. He guided me by my hair to slowly bob my head up and down the half of his length he’d pushed into my mouth.
“That’s it—take it all, sweet girl.” He said it again, his voice a low, raspy groan.
He was being tortuously controlled by how his hips thrusted shallowly, and his face contorted into focused pleasure. His muttered curses, the way his hips twitched like he was fighting to stay still, it was all the praise I’d needed.
“Fuck, Sierra—gonna come?—”
I hummed around him, wanting nothing more, and the vibration seemed to make his powerful thighs shake. His grip on my hair tightened, holding me in place as he thrust shallowly once, twice, before spilling down my throat with a deep, animalistic sound.
The taste was strange, and before I could try to swallow, he pulled out of my mouth, panting. A good bit of it ended up dripping down my chin and over my breasts, making my ears burn even after what I just did.
“Look at you,” he rasped, his thumb hooking into my mouth to guide the rest of his cum out and down my chin, coating the digit in my spit and his spend.
He climbed back onto the bed, crawling over me as he pressed his lips to mine, our tongues tangling as we shared the taste of his cum.
His taste lingered as we pulled back, my lips swollen and chin slick. Connor’s hand fisted in my hair, holding me in place as he groaned, licking at my tongue one last time before he let me go.
His chest heaved, sweat glistening on his rippling torso, his eyes black with a hunger that should have terrified me. But all I felt was a dizzying rush of power—I’d done that. I’d unraveled him.
Before I could finish catching my breath, his hands were under my arms, lifting me like I was weightless.
My legs wrapped around his waist, and my arms around his neck as he carried me through his penthouse, both of us fully naked. My back hit the cold glass, and I gasped at the icy chill, my body tensing.
Sunrise bloomed behind us, the sky a burnt orange and molten gold, painting both of us golden. The city below was a blur of shadows, but all I could focus on was Connor.
His muscles flexed as he pinned me against the glass, the heat of his cock pressed against my soaked folds. A deep growl rumbled from his chest as he stared down at me.
“So fucking beautiful,” he rasped, voice raw, his hips rolling deliberately to drag his length through my slickness. The cold of the window bit into my skin, but his body was hot, his sweat dripping onto my breasts as he leaned closer, his breath hot on my neck.
“You’re all mine, Sierra, I’m never letting you go.”
Everything in me should have bristled at that. Men like him, who loomed, who took, had only ever hurt me. But Connor wasn’t taking. He was giving. Giving me everything. Every grind of his hips, every possessive bite on my shoulder was a promise.
His cock slid up my slit and over my clit, the ridge of his tip catching just right, and I moaned, my nails digging into his broad shoulders.
“Connor—!” The sight of his massive length sliding through my folds, covered in my arousal, made everything in me flutter uncontrollably.
“Watch me,” he demanded, gripping my bottom tighter as he held me against the window. The hunger in his eyes made butterflies float through me. “Watch me, sweet girl.”
I looked up to see the sunrise illuminating his silhouette, casting the sweat-slick planes of his torso and the tattoos on his arms in a gorgeous molten gold. The city’s glow reflected in his pupils like twin infernos, and his hips rolled again, his cock gliding through my mess.
His groan was rough and low, his forehead dropping to mine, his hips stuttering as he slid his length up and down my core, rubbing my clit with every glide.
“Fuck, I’m gonna make you mine, Sierra. In every. Fucking. Hole.”
His words settled through me, light and fuzzy, until I realized .
Panic surged, sharp and sudden, a blade between my ribs.
“Wait—”
I shoved at his chest blindly, my voice shrill, foreign to even my own ears. “We didn’t—condom—you didn’t use—” My heart raced, fear clawing up my throat. He’d leave me. He didn’t sign up for this—for whatever this was.
Connor stilled instantly, his grip on my hair loosening as he searched my face. He looked dangerous for a second, his jaw clenched, his eyes blazing.
Then he softened instantly, cradling me against him as he carried me to the leather couch. The shift from the cold glass to buttery leather made me shudder. The contrast was jarring and too much.
“Breathe with me,” he ordered, sitting me down and cupping my cheeks. “I didn’t come inside you, Sierra. I didn’t even fuck you.” His thumb brushed my cheek, his voice dropping to a murmur. “You’re safe. You’re always safe with me.”
But the fear spiraled, irrational, suffocating, until he lifted me again, carrying me to the bathroom. He set me on the cool granite counter, his movements methodical as he wet a soft cloth under the faucet.
I watched, my vision an anxious blur, as I imagined the 0.1% chance of me getting pregnant from this. His voice telling me I should’ve kept my legs shut. A hiccup escaped me as I grabbed Connor’s arm, my nails digging into his skin.
“What if—what if some got?—?”
“No.”
He gripped my chin tightly, forcing my gaze to his. “I’d never risk you. Not like that.” His eyes were molten, fierce, and terrifying in their certainty. “Ever.”
I flinched when he knelt between my legs, expecting roughness, but his touch was gentle and so careful as he wiped the slick from my thighs. When he reached my core, I tensed, but he paused, his gaze locking on mine.
“Let me clean you,” he pleaded, waiting for my broken nod before dragging the cloth through my folds and cleaning me like I was sacred and pure.
Tears spilled over—not from pain, but from the wrongness of it. Real men didn’t do this. They didn’t care like this.
He stilled for a second, his eyes looking almost scared as he searched my face. “Did I hurt you? ”
I shook my head. “No.” The word cracked. “You’re just… here. And I don’t know why.”
He looked upset for a moment, almost like he wanted to tear apart the world for making me doubt him. But he dropped the cloth, cradling my face in his hands.
“You’re mine,” he breathed, like it explained everything. “And I protect what’s mine.”
He lifted me again, carrying me back to bed, and the sunrise had melted into soft daylight.
He wrapped himself around me, his heartbeat steady against my back and his palm splayed possessively over my bare stomach.
He didn’t speak as he wrapped every limb he had around me.
It was grounding, heavy in the best way possible.
“Sleep,” he murmured, his lips kissing the nape of my neck. “I’ll always be here, no matter what.”