Chapter The Trade
The Trade
“Da—ah!” I screamed as his hand came down on my pussy.
I glanced over my shoulder; three fingers speared inside me. I arched my back and panted, lifting my hips to present myself. I hadn’t done this for a man in so long. Need burned me from the inside out. Dane was the only man on my mind. The wet noises heightened my pleasure.
“What am I going to do with you?” his low rumble of promise filled the space.
“Make me come,” I breathed. His fingers moved at a painfully slow pace. I wriggled my hips and ground against them, lost in the pleasure.
“I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“Ye-fuck,” I moaned as he curled his fingers.
My head fell slack as he drove me toward oblivion. My eyes rolled back, my body a living flame. As I reached the precipice with his thick fingers buried deep, he stopped.
I jerked my chin up, protest dying in my throat. His hand flashed in the air before it cracked against my wet, sensitive pussy. I screamed, my vision white-hot. My head spun, my senses intoxicated with him as he varied the pace, thrusting with a relentless rhythm.
Like a dog in heat, I thrust back to meet him. My orgasm built, a tightening coil that had my pussy clenching around his hand—but before I could break, he withdrew. Again. My eyes crossed as his palm came down hard on my ass.
“Dane,” I whimpered, tears hot on my cheeks.
He spread me, the wet sound filling the room before he speared back in.
My eyes dilated. I was fuller, stretched to the limit.
Knots, he had four, thick fingers in me now.
Too much, and yet, so fucking good. I ground against him, desperate, his hard cock pressed against my side, a cruel reminder of what I truly needed.
“Yes, baby girl?” he asked gruffly.
“Please,” I begged.
“What are you crying about?” He rubbed a thumb against my lip.
“I want…,” I panted as his rhythm picked up. I cried out as I grew closer and closer to the edge.
“I know what you want, but I need to prepare you. If I don’t loosen you up, you’ll tear, and I don’t think you’d like that,” he groaned.
“But you can make me come. Let me come, please,” I whined.
“Don’t you trust me to take care of you?” he asked.
“Yes, but—”
“You’re still lying to yourself,” he growled as his fingers continued their merciless pace. My body flew forward with each thrust and my nails dug into his leg.
“I…” I trailed off. I couldn’t even remember what he’d asked. My body grew taut, my stomach tensed, and my thighs shook.
“Get this notion that I’ll do what you want out of your head. You are mine and you’ll take what I have to give you. I’ll decide if you come, or if you sit in a puddle and go all night without coming. I will give you everything you need, Babygirl, and you’ll love it. Let daddy take care of you.”
His face was a mask of dominance. “Please,” I mouthed the word, but no sound came out.
“I love it when you beg,” he sighed. His fingers picked up their speed. I half-moaned, half-cried.
“Dane,” I whispered.
“Let go, baby. Let go and I’ll give you what you need,” he murmured calmly.
I was raw, seen, and filleted open. But only Dane saw, and the disgust I expected never came.
What was I still holding on to? What was I hiding from?
Fear held me back. I refused to give something so precious away again.
The thought of someone hurting a part of me destined to never heal scared me shitless.
But Dane wouldn’t give me what I wanted until I gave him something in return.
“Okay,” I said so quietly I wasn’t sure he heard—until the angle of his thrust changed.
He’d heard me. My vision blurred as my eyes crossed, but just as I neared the edge, he pulled his fingers from me.
He was going to let me come—or so I thought.
Needy. Desperate. I needed to come. Tears and snot streaked my face, and I sobbed.
He didn’t stop until I was vibrating, the sting of his palm replaced by a thrumming heat that demanded release. His fingers found my center, and I came so hard my vision fractured. I didn’t just sob; I unraveled.
My body twitched, any stress I brought here seeped from my bones as he ripped another orgasm from me.
When I came down from the high, the room was silent except for the crackle of the fire.
My breathing was ragged, but Dane didn’t toss me aside.
He gathered me up, his large arms a fortress as he tucked my head under his chin.
“I’ve got you, baby,” he murmured, his voice no longer a command, but a promise.
Our eyes met, the truth of us bare. We were both just survivors with different scars. He chose armor and authority; I chose flinching and silence. But here, on this rug, the armor was off.
***
Dane held me as if I were something fragile he’d just finished reclaiming.
He settled us onto the rug, reaching for a heavy, dark grey throw.
It was weighted, the beads inside shifting as he draped it over me.
He pulled me back against his chest, my spine tucked into the heat of his abdomen, his arms wrapping over the blanket.
For a long time, the only sound was the fire. The gold light flickered over the ink on his forearms, the snake slithering.
“We aren’t going anywhere today,” he murmured, his breath hot against the shell of my ear.
“Because that doesn’t sound like a threat.” I laughed, throwing my head back.
“Take it however you like. We’re staying here. No roles, Vera. No Daddy, no Sergeant… that’s for later. Right now, we trade.”
“A trade?” I whispered, staring into the embers.
“A truth for a truth.” His hand moved under the blanket, heavy and warm, his palm flattening against my stomach while his thumb traced the swell of my hip.
“First question,” he started, his voice dropping into a low rumble. “What’s the one thing you’ve always wanted to tell someone, but were too afraid they’d use it against you?”
The air in my lungs turned to lead. He was prodding the Amos-shaped gap in my chest. I stared into the flames. My body was jello, and his hold was the only thing keeping me upright.
“That I didn’t just survive him,” I admitted, the words bitter on my tongue. “I let him convince me I was nothing without the pain. I was afraid if I told anyone how deep the rot went, they’d see I wasn’t worth saving. That I was just… broken.”
Dane’s grip tightened, an unspoken oath. He didn’t offer pity. He waited.
“My turn,” I said, my heart thumping against his forearm. I reached out, my fingers trembling as I traced the snake on his bicep. “The angel, on your back. Why are the wings just bones? Why is he grounded?”
I felt the tension vibrate through him. He took a slow, heavy breath.
“Because I grew up in a system where the people supposed to fly you to safety were the ones who clipped your wings,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion—which made it hurt worse.
“That tattoo is for the kid I was. He waited for an angel that never came. So, he did his best with what was left. He didn’t need to fly, he just needed to be too heavy to move, a wall of indestructible muscle. ”
He turned his hand over, interlacing his fingers with mine. His skin was rough, proof of a hard earned life.
“Next,” he countered. “Tell me something you’ve never told anyone.”
I swallowed hard, the weight of the blanket suddenly the only thing keeping my secrets from spilling onto the rug. “I have one. Something I’ve never shared.”
Dane went still. He adjusted the blanket, tucking it tighter around me.
“I can’t smell,” I whispered, the words feeling insignificant, yet heavy.
“Anything. Not the fire, the rain… you. It’s gone.
The doctors couldn’t find any nerve damage.
It’s just trauma. In a world where scent exposes the feelings of those around you, reveals your mate, or warns you from danger, I live muted. ”
I expected him to be shocked, for a slur of a dozen questions about how I cooked or stayed safe. But when I looked up at him, his expression hadn’t changed. His steel-grey eyes softened. No surprise, just a deep, knowing shadow.
He knew.
He didn’t say it, but the way he traced the line of my nose with his thumb, his gaze lingering on my lips, told me he’d already noticed.
“It doesn’t make you less.” His voice was a low tremble against my back. “It just means I have to be louder in every other way.”
I shifted, turning slightly in his arms so I could see the hard line of his jaw in the firelight.
“What’s your favorite thing to do?” I whispered. A ghost of a smirk pulled at his lips, but his eyes stayed soft.
I expected him to say the gym, or the shooting range, or maybe just the silence of his house.
But as the question hung in the air, Dane’s eyes changed.
The hardness didn’t just fade; it dissolved into something soft and impossibly sad.
He looked past me for a moment, as if he were seeing a ghost in the flickers of the fire.
“Building things,” he finally murmured.
“Building things?” I repeated.
“Building blocks. Castles that are destined to be knocked down ten minutes after they’re finished.
” A small, pained smile touched his lips, one that didn’t reach his eyes.
“There’s a peace in it. Making something, and knowing that for a little while, you’re the only thing keeping that world together. ”
He cleared his throat, but the sadness lingered in the set of his jaw.
“I like being the one who makes sure the walls don’t fall down,” he added, his voice dropping an octave. “Even if I have to do it from the outside looking in.”
His hand disappeared under the thick hem of the throw, his knuckles dragging against the heavy fabric before cupping the fullness of my thigh. He squeezed the soft flesh I normally ignored. He didn’t look away. He stared at me like I was his to touch.
“But this is a hard second,” he teased, his tone low.
My heart ached as I laughed. The light from the windows was blocked by the high back of his throne-like seat, leaving us in a private world of gold and shadow.
The floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over the dark silhouette of the forest, casting long shadows that stopped at the edge of the rug.
The high back of his seat acted as a shield, carving out a pocket of shadow where the firelight couldn’t reach, even with the vast windows behind us.
I felt a different kind of hunger now—not the desperate, frantic need from before, but a deep craving.
“Dane,” I whispered, shifting so I was kneeling between his legs. I reached out, my fingers trembling as I touched his chest. I tilted my head back and looked into his eyes. “I want you.”
The air between us charged. I waited for him to flip me over and take what I offered. Instead, his large hand came up and covered mine. He didn’t pull away, but he didn’t throw me down on the floor either.
“Since I dragged you from the party, your body has gone through a lot, Babygirl. I told you I’d give you everything you need, and right now? You need to just be.”
“But I’m sure,” I pressed, a small part of me afraid that if we didn’t do it now, the courage would leave me once we stepped out of this room.
“I know you are. And we will,” he promised. “But there’s no rush. I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you.”
I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. The pressure to perform or to finish this vanished, replaced by a calmness I hadn’t anticipated. He had a natural knack for knowing what I needed. I sat back down, my back to him. He pulled the weighted blanket around us, tucking me into him.
We stayed there, watching the dust motes dance in the beam of light. His arms were a sanctuary.