Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHASE
I can't think, all I can focus on is how Noah's cock is so deep inside me it's almost painful, it’s that perfect edge between pleasure and too much. His hand is on my cock, stroking in rhythm with his thrusts, and I'm already close again. I’m not sure I can cum again after this as it’s too much.
"Look at you," he murmurs, his voice sensual and full of praise. "Taking my cock so perfectly, like you were designed for this."
"Yesss," is all I can say, as my vocabulary has reduced itself to one word.
I hold onto the sheets tighter as he increases his pace, fucking me harder, owning me so completely I forget my own name.
Before I know it, my second orgasm builds impossibly fast, pleasure coiling tight in my spine.
Noah's hand on my cock, his cock inside me, his voice in my ear, it's all too fucking much.
"Let go, baby,” he croons in my ear, and it’s enough to trigger me as my entire body convulses and I spill over his hand again.
He fucks me through it, not stopping or slowing down, as he uses my body for his own pleasure, and just as he cums on a roar, my ass fills with a warmth I crave to feel daily.
"Bathroom," he says suddenly, pulling out. "Shower."
Is he serious right now? I’m worried if I stand, I will fall over and bang my head. With all the effort I have left, I stumble off the bed, my legs barely supporting me. He follows behind me, his cock still hard, which is fucking ridiculous. How is he still hard?
The bathroom is all marble and glass and I will myself to remain standing as Noah turns on the shower. Hot water immediately steams the air as he pulls me inside.
"Against the wall," he says.
I brace my hands against the tile, the water cascading over my back. Noah positions himself behind me again, and this time when he enters me, it's slower and more sensual.
"Fuck," I gasp.
"You feel that?" he asks, as his hands reach around and pinch my nipples. "I’m so deep inside you, baby."
"So fucking deep," I pant as his cock rubs expertly over the ball of nerves inside my ass.
He starts to move in long, hard strokes that make me see stars. He sucks on the back of my neck, while teasing my sore nipples, making my mind go blank. The water is hot, the steam thick, and I'm lost in all the sensations.
"You loved watching what I did tonight, knowing how far I would go for you, didn’t you?"
“Yes.”
“I’m always going to be behind you, baby. Lurking in the shadows.”
Oh god, he needs to stop talking as I’m about to have my third orgasm of the night, which I’m sure will kill me. He increases his pace, fucking me harder against the tile. The water makes everything slick and intense, totally overwhelming.
"I'm going to cum inside you. You’re gonna be so full of me that I will drip down your legs every time you move, reminding you of who destroyed this tight little ass.”
"Please do it," I groan, letting my forehead fall against the tile.
His rhythm becomes erratic, his control finally slipping.
I feel him swell inside me, and then he's cumming, filling me to the brim, his hands grasping at my chest as he holds on.
My hard dick makes an attempt to cum and it does, but it hurts, the head of my cock is so sensitive and the ball of nerves in my ass demands more.
After we come down from orgasm heaven, we stay under the warm shower, letting the water drench us as we return to reality.
Finally, he pulls out slowly and I wince at how sensitive my hole is.
Tomorrow will be fun. He turns me around and I rest against the wall as he cleans me all over with his bodywash and I revel in the feeling of being cared for.
After he washes himself, he turns off the water and we stumble back to the bedroom, collapsing together on the sheets.
His arms wrap around me, holding me close.
"My ass is gonna hate me tomorrow,” I mumble into the pillow as he cradles me from behind.
“Good, then you won’t forget tonight in a hurry. Now rest.”
I close my eyes, feeling safe and completely owned.
An hour later I'm lying in bed beside Noah, still unable to sleep, even though I’m exhausted. My body is sated from the intensity of the evening, but my mind won't stop racing.
I keep thinking about the clubhouse. The men in leather vests, the smell of oil and cigarettes, the way they looked at Noah with a mixture of respect and fear.
But I mainly focus on the way Noah established his claim over me in that room.
The cold certainty in his voice when he told them I was off-limits.
It was like a public branding but without the mark.
A mark I wish I had. I should be disturbed by the fact that I'm now under the "protection" of a criminal organization.
But I'm not disturbed, I’m exhilarated, the whole thing is like living in a movie and I did get a jolt of power as we circulated the clubhouse, in the knowledge that any word from my mouth could get someone hurt.
The old Chase in the therapist’s chair would be mortified at my behavior, demanding I check myself in for treatment, but the more time passes by, the less I know that guy.
I slip out of bed carefully, not wanting to wake Noah, and retrieve my journal from the desk that he rudely stopped me from writing in earlier, and I wince at the pain in my ass. But it was so fucking worth it if I struggle sitting for the next day or two.
Tonight, I walked into Blackrose Saints club's headquarters as the husband of a man who has just agreed to permanently fund their operations. I stood beside Noah while he established his authority, while he made it clear that I belong to him in ways that transcend normal relationship boundaries.
And I felt safe.
Not despite the danger, but because of it. Because Noah's possessiveness is absolute, as he would destroy anyone who threatened me without hesitation.
I watched him closely tonight, the way he moved through the club with complete confidence, spoke with authority, the way he assessed every person in the room like he was diagnosing them.
Noah doesn’t miss a thing. For someone who hates people, tonight he was in his element.
This is what he was built for. Power and control. And here I stay, by his side.
I pause, pen hovering over the page.
I'm not a victim. I'm not being coerced or manipulated. I'm making an active choice to be complicit in whatever Noah does, to be his husband, his possession, and his willing participant.
The therapist in me knows this is pathological. That I'm exhibiting signs of trauma bonding, of Stockholm syndrome, of codependency taken to its most extreme form. But the rest of me, the part that's been obsessed with Noah since the first day he walked into my office, doesn't care.
I want this, to be able to watch him operate without constraints, to note every moment of his psychology while drowning in his presence.
I want to be criminally his.
I set down the pen and stare at what I've written. It's the most honest I've been with myself yet.
"Can't sleep?"
I turn to find Noah watching me from the bed, his eyes reflecting the dim light from the desk lamp.
"Just processing," I say.
"Come back to bed."
I close the journal and return to him where he pulls me against his chest, his arm wrapping around my waist.
"What were you writing?" he asks.
"About tonight, the clubhouse."
"And?"
"And I'm not afraid."
He's quiet for a moment.
"You should be."
"Why?"
"Because we're crossing lines that can't be uncrossed, once I start funding them, there's no going back. Your association with me will tie you to this world, Chase. For someone like you it’s good to be afraid, then you won’t ever truly relax letting your guard down."
"I guess."
“Sleep.”
“I love you,” I murmur as I snuggle up close to his warm body that covers me like a bullet proof vest. I’ve accepted this life. We're embedded in darkness now and there's no pretending otherwise.