Chapter 38 #2
Hunter glances up when I step inside. He doesn’t speak right away–just nods once, like he’s been waiting for me to show up.
“How is she?” I ask, keeping my voice low.
“A bit of a wreck,” he says quietly, “but hopefully sleep will help.”
I lean against the doorframe, arms crossed. “I just hope this doesn’t cause a spiral.”
“I mean, at least she talked it out with me a little. That seems like progress.” Compared to defacing a cabin and running away? Sure the fuck does. He gives me a look–half tired, half steady. “I’d like to think I know how to handle her better now.”
I glance past him to her sleeping form. Hunter stands, stretches, rolls his shoulders. “Where have you been?”
I push off the frame, step closer. “DNA on the hair tie came back male. No female trace at all.”
Hunter’s eyes narrow. “That changes things.”
“Yeah, it makes no sense that there’s not a single trace of female DNA on the tie unless–”
“It didn’t belong to a girl at all,” he finishes.
“Exactly. They're going to do some more testing, but we may finally have something we can work with.” I yawn, dragging a hand over my face. “I think I’m headed to bed. You coming?”
“I may head back to the library.”
“Fucking nerd,” I mutter, shaking my head.
“Night,” he says, clapping my shoulder once as he passes and clicks his tongue for Ares to follow. The dog hops down, sniffing my feet as he passes, and follows his owner down the hall.
I strip down, shucking off my shirt, jeans, and boxers, letting everything hit the floor.
The room is warm from the fire that’s been banked low in the hearth.
I slide under the covers behind Ari. Her body is warm and lax, soft curves fitting against me.
She stirs at the first press of my chest to her back, a small sound slipping out of her throat.
“Hey, Doll Baby,” I murmur, kissing the side of her neck, open-mouthed and grazing her with my teeth just enough to wake her properly.
“Damon,” she exhales, turning into me like it’s instinct. Her arms loop around my neck. Eyes still heavy with sleep and tears, but the way she presses closer–hips rocking once, seeking–tells me she’s awake enough for what I want.
I roll her under me in one smooth motion, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand.
She gasps and arches up into me. The sweatshirt she’s wearing is too big, one of ours, sleeves swallowing her hands.
I don’t bother being gentle. I yank the zipper down, exposing those perfect tits, and pull her arms out of the sleeves, then toss it somewhere in the dark.
“I heard you crying earlier,” I tell her, kissing the dried salt tracks off her cheeks. “And I’m gonna remind you what you can take,” I say against her throat, voice rough. “Gonna make sure you know you’re enough.”
She nods–fast and eager–legs parting for me, hands ghosting over my chest, teasing the piercings in my nipples.
The sensation runs through my limbs, nerves setting on fire, and I drag her leggings down her thighs, panties with them, leaving her bare and flushed in the low light.
The garnets on her nipples catch the fire glow–tiny red sparks, glinting just like the one in her clit.
I lean down, catch one between my teeth, and tug hard enough to make her cry out.
Her back bows. Fingers dig into my shoulders.
“God… Damon–”
I switch to the other, sucking deep, rolling the ring with my tongue until she’s whimpering, hips grinding up against nothing.
My hand slides between her thighs–hot, slick, and already dripping.
I push two fingers inside her without warning, curling them, stroking that spot that makes her thighs shake.
“You’re so fucking wet for me,” I growl. “Always ready. Always wanting it, aren’t you?”
“Always,” she moans, high and broken, hips rocking into my hand.
I pull my fingers free, slick and shining, and smear them across her lips. She opens immediately, sucking them clean, tongue swirling around my knuckles. “That’s it, wicked sister, lick my fingers clean.”
She breaks away, surging upward, kissing me hard, her tongue warm and teeth tugging on the ring in my lips. “Jesus,” I mutter, pushing her flat on her back.
I shift up her body, straddle her chest, my pierced cock heavy and leaking against her sternum. “Hold them together for me.”
I’ve been jealous ever since Hunter fucked her tits the night of the solstice, dying to get my cock between them.
She cups her breasts, pressing them tight around me.
The garnets press into the underside of my shaft–cool metal against hot skin.
I thrust slowly at first, savoring the soft, warm channel she’s made.
Then harder. Faster. The head bumps the leather collar on every upstroke.
She may belong to the King, but right now she’s mine.
She opens her mouth, tongue flicking out to taste me when I get close enough.
“Fuck… look at you,” I rasp. “Taking it so good.”
She whimpers around the head when I let her suck it for a second, her lips closing over the piercings threaded down my cock before pulling back and sliding me between her tits again.
I’m close already. Too close. The sight of her–writhing beneath me, desperate to get off, trusting me to use her like this–it’s too much.
I pull back, flip her onto her stomach, and yank her hips up.
She scrambles to her knees, ass in the air, back arched perfectly.
Taking a deep breath because I don’t want this to end too soon, too fast, I distract myself by spreading her cheeks open with my thumbs, taking in the perfect little hole begging to be touched.
“One day we’re going to take you here,” I tell her, licking my thumb and running it over the tight entrance.
She bucks forward at the intrusion, but then guides herself back, wanting more.
“We’re going to fill your cunt, your ass, and your mouth all at the same time.
” I squeeze my balls, trying to hold off.
“You want that, Doll Baby? To be filled up by all of us at once?”
She nods, clearly just wanting me to finish this off, let that orgasm roll over her, and prove she can give me what I want.
“But not tonight. Tonight I just want to feel your tight little pussy wrap around me.”
I notch myself at her entrance and slam home in one brutal thrust.
She cries out, “Oh my God.” Her hands fisting the sheets.
I don’t give her time to adjust. I fuck her hard with deep and punishing strokes that rock the headboard against the wall. One hand wraps in her hair, pulling her head back so I can see her face–eyes glassy, mouth open.
“You feel that?” I growl, hips snapping. “You take every fucking inch. Every time. You’re not weak. You’re not broken. Tell me you know that.”
“I’m not,” she inhales, then spits out, “broken.”
“That’s right.” I reach around, fingers finding her clit, rubbing fast, rough circles, and tugging the piercing. She’s shaking, thighs trembling, walls fluttering around me like she’s already close.
“Come for me,” I order. “Come on my cock and throttle me with that wicked little pussy.”
She shatters, back bowing, a moan tearing from her throat as she clamps down hard.
I fuck her through it–relentlessly chasing my own orgasm, punching in harder and harder until the pressure in my balls snaps.
I bury myself deep, spilling inside her with a guttural groan, hips jerking through every pulse.
We collapse together, and I roll us to the side. We’re sweaty and breathless, limbs tangled. I stay inside her a moment longer, softening, feeling her pulse around me. I kiss the back of her neck, her shoulder, the curve where neck meets spine.
“You’re not weak,” I whisper against her skin. “You never were. You are exactly how I need you to be.”
She turns her head just enough to meet my eyes, and they’re filled with such an intensity that I feel a flicker of guilt for how much she trusts me.
What I’m after isn’t some kind of long-term connection.
No love match or perfect pairing like the other houses.
That’s not how I operate. That’s not why I went to the King and chewed his ass out.
Arianette needs stability to be stable. I get it.
I’ve spent enough time in and out of detention, group homes, programs and jail to understand how the transition can be hard. Arianette needs something concrete.
I lick her lips open, kissing her lazily.
I pull out and roll us so she’s tucked against my chest. My hand rests low on her stomach, possessive and gentle at once, and I marvel at how I love this woman’s body.
I love the way she lets me mark her up, threading her with my metal and jewels.
I love how tight her pussy is, how she’s ready for me every time I get in and out of this bed.
In and out of the car. Whenever and wherever.
She wants to be wanted. To be used, and that’s perfect by me, but I know one thing for certain: I’m not letting anyone–not even the King–fuck this up for me.