2. Demolish Me
CHAPTER 2
Demolish Me
IVY
We stand rooted to the spot on the roof of the private hospital, despite the galeforce wind threatening to blow us off, holding onto each other as if our lives depended on it. I feel his love for me in his furious embrace, I sense his fear and longing. The medics strap Ariana to the gurney and we follow them off the exposed platform and into the relative quiet of the building where an elevator swallows them up. We wait for the next one, then step in and descend to the waiting room. I expect chaos and urgent paperwork, but the nurse there offers us a seat and something to drink. I’m reminded again how the wealthy live such completely different lives to regular peasants like me—though I don’t suppose I can call myself that anymore. I also remind myself that bigger bank balances sometimes bring bigger problems, or we wouldn’t be sitting here.
It’s difficult to talk, because what do you say to someone who has just had the rug pulled out from under them in such a traumatic way? Every thought that surfaces seems shallow and insufficient.
“I don’t know what to say,” I eventually tell him.
He squeezes my hand. “You don’t need to say anything.”
We sit quietly for a while, but I can’t stand how heavy the silence is. “You must be so … shocked.”
Alistair swallows hard. “All that matters right now is that she pulls through.”
“She’s in the very best hands,” I assure him, just as he had assured me when Jamie’s condition turned critical. Jamie who is still in this very building, sedated, and on his ventilator.
If my mind is spinning with questions, I can’t imagine how he feels. I didn’t even know Ariana existed until forty-eight hours ago, but he and his family have been grieving her for most of his life. And now, not only is she alive, but she is the enemy . She came into the Ravenscroft home hoping to kill them . It didn’t make sense.
I don’t bother Alistair with questions. He’ll talk when he is ready.
“I’m here for you,” I tell him.
He drags his eyes from the carpet and looks into mine. There are so many emotions there—relief, love, worry, confusion, grief—I’m desperate to take away his pain.
“Tell me how I can make you feel better.” I wish I didn’t have to ask; I wish I knew him well enough to instinctively know what he needs in this moment.
I half expect him to prickle and mutter “Nothing you can do will make me feel better.”
Instead, he squeezes my hand harder. “It would be inappropriate.”
“I don’t give a fuck about being inappropriate,” I reply. “And nor do you. Tell me what you need.”
He swallows, not taking his eyes off me. “I need to kiss you. I need to be inside you.”
I nod. “Yes.”
At first, he doesn’t react. It takes a moment for my words to land. Without speaking, he stands and pulls me up from my seat. We walk down the passage, looking for a room or broom closet. There is no giggling or enjoying the taboo of it. There will be no joy, only comfort and deep connection. Alistair needs to feel grounded.
We slip into a narrow room with a gurney along the wall. There is no lock on the door, so Alistair forces a flimsy office chair up against the handle. It will have to do.
I expect Alistair to smash me up against the wall, taking his fury out on me. Demolish me. I will welcome it. But there is no anger in his movements, no violence. His touch is gentle as his hand travels to my hair; his lips tenderly seek mine out. We kiss, long and slow, and I open myself up to him, offering everything I have.
“I’m yours,” I say. “You can do anything you want to me. Anything.”
Alistair growls in response. “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”
I push my body up against him, feeling him harden. “I mean it.”
“I want to make you come,” he says.
“My pleasure doesn’t matter right now,” I whisper. Also, in my experience, female orgasms can take a while—and we didn’t have the luxury of time.
His grip on me tightens. “Your pleasure is the only thing that matters.”
“I don’t care about pleasure right now. I want to comfort you,” I say. “Tell me what to do.”
“I want you to do nothing but give yourself up to me.”
“I have,” I reply, looking into his hungry eyes. “I am. I’m yours.”
My skin tingles with desire. Alistair’s fingers find the top button on my blouse, and then he loses what little patience he has and rips it open. I gasp. He was so gentle a moment ago, and now he’s back to being my ferocious black jaguar. He plunges his teeth into my neck, not hard enough to break the skin but to cause just the right amount of pain. I cry out at the surprise and bite, and I think he’ll cover my mouth, but he doesn’t. He’s past caring about anything else but us and our flaming skin. He sucks my neck for a while, hard and focused, driving me crazy, then moves down to my breasts. Alistair yanks my bra down. I’m nervous that he’ll suck too hard on my sensitive nipples, but instead, he shoves as much of my boob into his mouth as he can, squeezing the rest with his strong beautiful hands and it feels intense but incredible. My clit hums.
He’s acting unpredictable so I’m a little anxious that he’ll inadvertently hurt me, but I breathe and give in. He’s never given me a reason not to trust him when it comes to sex, and I have my safe word.
“Fuck me however you like,” I murmur. “I don’t want to come. I just want you inside me.”
He growls again and pushes his body against me, harder and with less care. I gasp as he spins me to face away and bends me over the gurney. He claws at my panties, pulling them down. Everything happens so fast. The moment feels out of control, but I go with it. If this is what Alistair needs, I’m game. He has a strong hand on my back, keeping me squashed against the thin mattress. Desire takes over and I’m no longer nervous.
“Be as rough as you like,” I say over my shoulder. I can feel his hard cock against my ass.
His voice is gruff with emotion. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Do what you need to do. I’ll tell you to stop if I can’t handle it.”
“You’re too precious for that,” he whispers. “You’re my goddess. You’re the love of my life.”
I had expected to be surprised by Alistair in this poky room, but I had not expected those words. I want to make it okay for him to do what he needs. I push my soft ass back into him, offering myself to him like an animal on heat.
“I’m not your goddess right now,” I say. “I’m your whore.”