Chapter 15
CHAPTER 15
ASPEN
W e didn’t speak the entire drive back to my apartment. I couldn’t organize my thoughts enough to form a coherent sentence. So, instead, I stared out the window, watching the streetlights flash by. Unable to focus on one thing as it all blurred together.
The silence was horrible. However, once he parked, I couldn’t bring myself to open the door to escape it. I couldn’t bring myself to leave until one of us said something.
Part of me hoped he would take the lead like he had at the club. Which only added to my inner turmoil, because I never waited for anyone to take the lead, and after one night of playing a submissive, I sat mute in the car, waiting for someone to tell me what to do. Almost like I needed his permission to get out.
I rolled my eyes, just barely biting back a frustrated groan.
Just say something. I berated myself. Just say anything . Or get out of the car. Just stop sitting there like a docile little girl that doesn’t know what to do.
You’re in control, I reminded myself.
Then. Say. Something.
My internal banter wore me down, driving me to blurt whatever sat at the tip of my tongue—unsure of what it was until it tumbled free. “Why did you pull back?”
His silence stretched on for so long I wondered if I actually asked the question or was going insane and only thought I did.
Should I ask again?
No. God , no.
This was ridiculous.
I sat up, pulling my shoulders back, infusing myself with the reminder that I was Aspen Quinn, and I didn’t repeat myself to anyone. Unfortunately, the reminder fell flat beside my confidence when the leather seats creaked, announcing my fidgeting discomfort with a bullhorn.
Fuck it. Run.
Just as I grabbed the handle, the door locked as he put the car in drive and pulled away from the curb. My attention snapped to his stoic profile.
What the fuck?
The words locked in my chest, my mouth agape as if the single question I managed maxed out my ability to speak until he said something in response.
He pulled down a side street behind my apartment and stopped at a secluded curb away from streetlamps, leaving us in shadows. This time, he didn’t just park and sit there; he cut the engine completely before resting his hands atop the steering wheel, opening and closing his fists.
If I thought I’d been frozen before—it didn’t hold a candle to now.
The air in my lungs laid stagnant unable to move in or out.
Everything held still and waiting.
“Why were you so scared to orgasm?” he asked without meeting my eyes.
His question washed over me like a bucket of ice-water.
I wished to take back every thought that willed him to speak.
I didn’t want him to speak anymore.
I wanted to go back in time and hop out of the car while I still had the chance.
Fuck. Fuck, fuckfuck.
I decided to play dumb. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Unsurprisingly, he called me out, slowly turning his dark gaze on me and raising an arrogant brow. “You made a valiant effort to keep yourself from orgasming, princess. But you wouldn’t have lasted the full five minutes if I hadn’t pulled back.”
I floundered, fighting my initial reaction to deny, deny, deny, but also not ready to admit defeat. Needing to escape the spotlight, I turned the questioning back on him. “Why did you stop?”
“As I explained before we started, a Dominant is aware of his submissive’s limits, even if they aren’t explicit. I watched you for every change—every hitched breath, soft moan, needy whimper. I took note of every goose bump, every desperate thrust of your hips, and each time you bit your lip. So, when I saw the panic enter your eyes, I stopped. I want to own your pleasure and make you like the pain. I do not find pleasure in your pain.”
I wanted to argue that I wasn’t panicked, but the lie lodged in my throat. My mouth hung open, savoring his confession—tasting the need to let him own every part of me.
He shifted, resting his arm on the wheel, and pinning me to my seat with his full attention. “Your turn, princess. Why were you scared to orgasm?”
I swallowed and weighed my options.
I could lie.
I could refuse to answer.
I could open the door and run home as fast as I could and pretend he didn’t exist.
Or…I could tell the truth; a truth I hadn’t said out loud in seven years. A truth I’d only said once when I had to.
My head swam.
A hollow, empty space gaped in my chest, pulling me in on myself.
I stared into the shadows surrounding him, finding his eyes in the darkness as I imagined saying the words. My heart thundered, a drudging pulse in my ears, and I wondered, why did I want to tell , when I never wanted to tell anyone?
Black crept around the edges, reminding me to breathe.
I sucked in a whoosh of air and ripped the Band-Aid off.
“My boyfriend in high school recorded us having sex without me knowing and sold the videos to his friends as porn.”
His jaw tightened. “What the fu?—”
Knowing I wouldn’t finish the whole story if I stopped for his reaction, I pushed through to the end. “I didn’t realize it until one night after a party we were all sitting on his couch in the basement watching a movie. We started fooling around. Just kissing and over the clothes touches. He pushed for more and said I could be on top, that way no one would see anything under my skirt. At the time, I was buzzed and liked the idea of exhibitionism. Except, the other guys started masturbating and making comments about how it was so much better to watch in person. They talked about how they couldn’t wait to see me go wild in person when I came. I tried to stop and ask him what was going on, but he pinned me on the floor, demanding I orgasm. When I wouldn’t, he said he owed them a show one way or another. He tore my shirt and bra off and kept going.”
His features didn’t shift.
His lips didn’t turn down.
His brows didn’t pinch.
Nothing.
Yet, everything around him changed.
If I thought he was darkness before, it didn’t compare to the depths of black pouring off him now. As if he created the shadows himself and not the lack of light. “What happened after that?” The graveled question slipped through statuesque lips.
I swayed—his heavy stare mixing with the heavy weight of the memories. Needing an added layer between us, I blinked and looked away before finishing. “When he finished, he pulled out and came on my chest. He held me down and offered the same to the rest of them. His best friend accepted. The other two declined. He finally let me up, and I rushed to the bathroom to clean off. When I came out, they told me how he sold videos of us having sex and that I was famous among the guys in our school for my epic orgasms. They made jokes, wondering if all Hispanic women were wild and loud in bed. They said no wonder my dad married my mom if she was anything like me.” I sucked in another breath and forced myself to look up. “Either way, I stopped orgasming after that. At first, I didn’t want to, but then when I tried on my own, I couldn’t.”
A muscle ticked along his jaw.
His throat rose and fell over a painful looking swallow.
His chest moved with an extended inhale and a slow, controlled exhale.
His eyes twitched.
I catalogued each action, waiting for what came next.
“Did you press charges?” he asked.
I hesitated, hating my answer, but knowing why it happened. “I didn’t want anyone in my father’s world to find out. I didn’t want my father to find out. But I also couldn’t do nothing. I couldn’t let the videos continue to float around and wonder if they’d pop up online or something. So, I went to my dad’s lawyer and begged for his help and to keep it private. He worked with a friend from another firm, and they managed to remove and destroy every video. They went to my boyfriend’s parents and ensured that my boyfriend complied with whatever they needed, promising legal action if he didn’t. His parents sent him to some reform school after that.” I huffed a laugh. “Even with the videos gone though, guys still remembered them and would make comments. I got very good at defending myself from assholes who thought knowing about the videos gave them some right to my body.”
Lucian didn’t laugh.
He barely blinked.
If it hadn’t been for his white-knuckled fist on the wheel, I would’ve assumed he was a statue.
“I’m sorry I pushed you tonight,” he finally said.
My stomach churned—his words hitting me like a sucker punch. “What? No. No.”
“What?” His brows furrowed, taking in my pinched face.
“No. Don’t apologize. You didn’t make me do anything. You didn’t push anything,” I almost shouted. “I chose to be on that stage, and I would choose it again and again.”
“But—”
“No buts. Maybe I freaked out a little bit, but I am trying to figure this out because it’s all new to me.” I laughed, tossing my hands up and slapping them back on my thighs. “Do you know how many times I actually tried to orgasm? It’s like I lost a part of myself. I lost my ability to be with someone. Hell, sometimes I force myself just to feel some form of intimacy. But I can’t even do that right. No, I have to take control because I’ve forgotten what it is to let go. Yet here you are making me come on accident and then almost making me come again—which I didn’t see happening or plan for so, I didn’t even consider what my reaction would be,” I rambled. “It then left me shocked because I sure as hell didn’t expect it. And now, it’s pissing me off because I thought I left that shit in the past, but apparently, I didn’t, and I don’t like feeling like that asshole somehow takes up any more of my life. But even if he does, I won’t let it leave me scared to be me. And I wanted to be on that stage tonight. So don’t apologize.”
I sat there, panting after my jumbled confession, unsure of what the hell I’d even said or if it made sense. All I knew was that I didn’t want him to be sorry. So, I kept talking, confused about how to reach my point until I finally demanded him to not say it.
I groaned and dropped my head into my hands. I was such a mess.
“Look at me, Aspen,” he said gruffly.
Hesitantly, I pulled my hands aside and cupped my cheeks, ready to hide again. Something dark and barely restrained lingered in the depths of his gaze. My breath caught in my lungs, and I couldn’t look away.
“I hope you know that none of that was your fault, and that you should have had someone to do more than take care of it silently,” he said before his voice dropped, matching the dangerous glint in his eyes. “If I’d been around in that situation, there’s nothing you could have said that would have prevented me from beating every single one of those sick fucks to a fucking pulp.”
My heart stuttered to a stop, leaving me stunned silent at the image of Lucian Daire—the man I hated and who hated me—claiming to defend me if he’d been given the chance. The leashed rage behind his clenched jaw lashed at my skin and did weird things to my stalling heart.
“And…” he began again before I could formulate words. “I changed my mind. I’m not sorry about tonight.”
His gaze softened, and the tension behind his lethal promise faded, releasing us from the moment. I latched on to the out, saying lightly, “Good.”
“In fact…”
The sentence hung between us.
The leather creaked.
He adjusted, resting an elbow on the center console.
All his coiled tension vanished, leaving the dark and dangerous man I first met.
“The only thing I’m sorry about is that I didn’t get to purposefully make you come.”
My eyes widened when he leaned closer, enveloping me in the shadows with him. “Why?” I whispered.
He smirked. “Because I love winning.”
I gasped, my jaw dropping. “You would not win.”
“Princess, I could win with just this hand,” he claimed, holding up his large, powerful palm and long fingers.
Maybe it was the wild nerves vibrating along my limbs after confessing my past. Maybe it was the lingering adrenaline from our performance. Maybe it was the energy from the club still clinging to us in the car. Maybe it was my determination to prove my ex-boyfriend didn’t still haunt my present.
Or maybe…it was just Lucian.
I didn’t want to answer—too scared it’d be the latter.
It didn’t matter whatever the reason was, it pushed me to act without thinking—it urged me to just do, do, do.
“Prove it,” I challenged.
A growl rattled deep in his chest like an animal ready to pounce. “Don’t tempt me, princess.”
Go, go, go.
Ignore the doubts. Control the thoughts.
You’re in control.
I scooted my hips to the edge of the seat and spread my legs, shivering from the cool air brushing against my wet folds. “Scared?”
His face hardened, but not like before. It hardened with determination and strength and pure sexual energy.
His fingers inched closer until the tips grazed my knee. I jumped, but held my position.
“Are you sure?” he asked, his gaze open. If I thought him capable, I’d say caring—a look similar to when he undid the ropes binding me to the chair.
But I didn’t want caring. I needed the other side of him—the one determined to win—the one that tied me down. The one with enough darkness to blot out any memories but now. “Yes,” I said, resting my hand over his and pressing it hard against my thigh.
“All you have to do is say stop,” he whispered, holding still.
“I won’t.”
The open and caring halted, swallowed up by his shadows. Perfect. “Then make sure you say my name when you come.”
“I won’t,” I said again, but it came out weak as his hand slid to my core, already leaving me breathless.
He chuckled, dragging his fingers along my folds. “So wet.” He slipped between the lips of my pussy and played at my opening, pulling moisture around and up to my clit. “I’ll admit, I prefer this—fucking you with my hand rather than some toy. That way I get to feel every hot, silky part of you instead of being tortured by the wet heat I couldn’t have. But I can have it now, can’t I, princess?”
I bit my lip and nodded.
“Can’t. I. Princess?”
Closing my eyes, I released my lip and gave him what I knew he wanted. “Yes, Sir.”
“Good girl.”
Without any warning or build up, he shoved two thick fingers deep until he couldn’t anymore. I jerked against the pinch of pain from his dry fingers forcing their way inside. My cum eased the way, but didn’t erase all the friction—and I didn’t want it to.
I want to make you like the pain.
I wanted to like the pain too. I’d never considered wanting it before, but the way the stinging stretch of his fingers radiated from my core, increasing, rippling heat under my skin. I knew then that I already liked it and desperately wanted more.
I wanted and wanted and wanted.
I lost myself in every sensation, basking in the faux intimacy.
I soaked up the soft chafe of his shirt against my thigh, the weight of his arm across my leg, the pressure of his knuckles digging against my opening, his fingers twisting and curling, pulling moisture back with his thrusts, leaving a mess dripping between my legs.
I liked this part. I learned to love it as each failed orgasm left me with the realization that this was as far as I’d go. My body never failed to get turned on. My mind never struggled to enjoy the connection.
So, I reveled in it.
He leaned closer, his breaths creating a wet heat against my neck. I tipped my head, encouraging him to add another sensory level, but he never moved close enough to kiss me. Instead, he used his mouth for other things.
“I can’t get deep enough inside you.”
“I need more.”
“You’re so tight.”
“Let’s try three inside your little cunt.”
“That’s such a good girl.”
“Yes, princess. Ride my hand.”
“I bet I could fuck you with my whole fist and it wouldn’t be enough.”
“Listen to your greedy pussy. So wet, leaking down my palm.”
“I can’t wait to hear you scream.”
“Scream my name, princess.”
“Come all over me.”
“All for me. Just for me.”
“So fucking sexy.”
“Good girl.”
“Perfect.”
“Come, princess. Come.”
That had been my plan all along. I’d spread my legs and invited him in because I needed him to win—I needed him to make me come and forget everything except that I was a woman who wasn’t broken and could come for a man, even if that man was Mr. D&D. After memories I’d long thought buried came roaring back, I needed to prove that I could shove them aside. That they hadn’t lurked in the shadows with a chokehold on my pleasure I hadn’t known existed. I needed to prove they didn’t own me. After that night, I needed to prove that I could come for me.
I didn’t let my past linger and haunt me. I made sure to lock it tight in a box.
At least, I thought I had.
Then, sitting on that stage, so close to coming with all those eyes on me, something triggered the lock undone and that same panic from high school came roaring back. It swarmed me until I lost sight between past and present, until Lucian pulled back, leaving room for me to return to the moment.
After tonight, I didn’t care about holding control over him or making a point to win. The only thing I wanted to prove was that even if I didn’t orgasm anymore, it wasn’t because they stole it from me. I wanted to prove that I’d lost my orgasm because I’d taken it away and buried it so deep I didn’t know how to get it back.
After tonight, I wanted to prove that I could get it back. Even if it meant using Lucian to do it.
The pressure built with each rough thrust of his hand, with each painful twist of his fingers inside me.
So close. So close.
I squeezed my eyes shut and pictured the finish, closer than I’d been in so long, growing desperate.
But the more I reached for it, the further it got.
I tried to remember the precipice I’d clung to on stage. Tried to recreate the feeling so I could fall over instead of clinging to my control. I couldn’t find it—like it never existed.
“Stop,” he commanded, his voice deep and hard. “Stop thinking about it. It’s just you and me. No rush. No finish line to reach.”
I sucked in a sharp breath, surprised at how well he read my mind.
“I could spend the next twenty-four hours with my hand shoved deep inside your tight little pussy. I’ll happily spend all night listening to the sounds of your wet cunt squeezing around my fingers. Even if you never come, every second is worth the tiny pants of pleasure you keep biting back. I could play with you all week with only the hope of those sexy lips parting and releasing the screams I know you want to.”
I became aware of each sound as he described them, losing focus on the image I created.
“I can barely make it through a meeting with your sultry voice making me hard. I would do anything to watch my name spill from your mouth—to hear you scream it.”
He roughly shoved his fingers deep and held them there, curling them against a place I never knew existed. The thumb that had teased with wide circles and gentle brushes settled heavy against my clit with purposeful strokes.
“Come for me, princess. Let go. Give it all to me.”
Let go.
Let go. Letgoletgoletgo.
The weight of doubts, the pressure of the past, the choking need for control dropped.
No. Not dropped. It didn’t fall to the ground, taking me with it.
Instead, Lucian took it.
He took control.
He held the weight, giving me room to breathe—to let go.
My mind blanked, every nerve rising higher and higher to a single point until waves of bliss crashed against me.
My jaw dropped without a sound. My heels dug against the floorboards, every muscle pulling tight and bracing against the forgotten euphoria. My hips thrust, chasing his hand, trying to make it last longer.
Too soon, the pulsing waves settled to lap at my skin. I fell back against the seat. The surprise of the orgasm left me more breathless than the orgasm itself. I remembered the intensity of coming and this was nowhere near that. But it didn’t matter. None of it mattered.
All that mattered was that I came.
I orgasmed.
And I wasn’t panicking.
Maybe it would come later, but I shoved it aside, unwilling to let the possibility ruin the now.
I came.
And it felt good.
Fuck good. It felt amazing. Epic. Phenomenal. Incredible.
It felt like a beginning.
“Perfection, princess. You are fucking perfection,” Lucian muttered, bringing me out of my pleasurable daze. He slowed his fingers and widened his circles around my bud before easing out. “Look at you. Look at all that cum your body has been begging to release.”
He held his hand in the bit of light shining in the car and parted his fingers, showing off smears of fluid stretching between each one and dripping down his palm. He brought it to his mouth and dragged his tongue up and around, collecting the drop, humming deeply at the taste.
I stared slack-jawed—panting—as he gripped my jaw with that same hand, uncaring of the slick moisture smearing against my cheek, and made me meet his demanding gaze. “Don’t let anyone ever take that from you.”
“Yes, Sir,” I answered without thinking, confused by the building fire behind my eyes.
“I’m so proud of you,” he praised, stroking his hand down my cheek.
My eyes bounced between his, wondering if he was going to kiss me—almost hoping for it, but disappointed when he pulled back. I sat there, unsure of what to do next as I watched him remove a dark cloth from his jacket and wipe his hand clean. When he went to put it back, I caught a flash of black lace hanging out.
“Oh, I should probably get my panties back.”
He paused, making no move to give my underwear back.
“Lucian…”
“I think I’ll keep them.”
“What? You can’t just?—”
“I can,” he declared, as if stating that he could do something as simple as say the alphabet. “I seem to be able to do a lot of things— for you ,” he enunciated.
“You don’t get to keep my panties as some kind of reward to keep on your shelf with your other creepy panty collection.”
“I assure you, I do not have a panty collection,” he laughed. “But I do have a suggestion.”
I watched him turn serious and braced myself, imagining he would issue some kind of challenge. However, no matter how hard I looked, I couldn’t find the usual arrogance that preambled his typical provocations. His straight face and calm demeanor left me questioning if I wanted to know.
Which was ridiculous because, of course, I did.
“What?” I asked.
“You’re curious about this lifestyle, and I’ve rather enjoyed watching your curiosity unravel. I’m suggesting that you let me help you safely explore this side of yourself that craves a certain loss of control. And in the process, I will also help you find confidence with your orgasm—help you own it.”
“But we don’t like each other,” I said, stating the obvious obstacle that made his suggestion unrealistic.
One brow arched, revealing his annoying confidence. “You don’t need to like someone to come with them.”
Questions swirled rampant through my mind about conflict of interest and complications in business and why I was even considering this, but I couldn’t think about any of those when my pussy still throbbed.
“What’s in it for you?”
He smiled, his eyes sparking with sinister promise. “I get to play. And until I teach you to own your orgasm— I get to own it.”
I should have smacked him and let him know that no one owns anything of mine.
I should have turned him down when he offered to take me to the club.
I should have reported him when he spanked me the first time.
I should have…
I should have done a lot.
But the only thing I did do was say yes.