Chapter 20 Dove
DOVE
Ashton’s voice cuts through the quiet like silk brushing against skin, low and commanding, but with that edge of gentleness that always surprises me.
“Go on,” he says, his eyes soft, though his posture is anything but. “Find a book. Experience it. This world is yours now.”
I can only nod, still feeling the weight of his gaze as I step forward.
The library surrounds me, vast and sprawling, with endless shelves that climb to ceilings painted in dusky murals, a masterpiece of swirling skies and mythical creatures that seem to come alive under the soft glow of golden chandeliers.
Each brushstroke on the ceiling feels like a part of some ancient story, woven just for me, and it lures me further into the depths of the room.
Rows upon rows of leather-bound books line the mahogany shelves, their covers glinting in hues of gold, emerald, and midnight blue.
I walk along them slowly, letting my fingers trail across the spines, feeling the gentle crackle of age beneath my touch.
Some titles are in languages I don’t recognize, others seem like they’ve been read countless times, their corners softened and worn.
The scent of old paper and ink is thick here, rich and intoxicating, wrapping around me with a strange warmth that feels like home.
My gaze lands on a single volume bound in deep red leather, embossed with gold leaf that catches the flickering light.
Something about it calls to me, whispers of adventure and mystery.
As I pull it from the shelf, a small cloud of dust swirls into the air, glinting like stars suspended in the golden glow of the room.
“Good choice,” Ashton murmurs from the shadows, his voice dark and approving, and I can feel the weight of his pride. It sends a ripple of warmth through me, knowing he’s watching me here, watching me take in every detail of this sanctuary he’s created.
I clutch the book to my chest and move to the oversized armchair nestled by an arched window that overlooks the grounds, its thick velvet cushions a deep, inviting green.
Settling into it, I pull my legs up and let myself sink into its embrace.
The leather is warm, worn smooth in places, as if it’s been waiting for years for someone to sit just like this.
The book falls open in my lap, its pages thick and whispering, each turn like a gentle breath in the silence.
I let myself fall into the story, but every so often, I feel Ashton’s eyes on me, like a guardian watching over something precious.
In this quiet, cocooned world he’s created, I let myself forget everything else.
The story pulls me in, each line vivid, every word tasting like something I didn’t know I craved.
I glance up from the pages, caught in a moment, and find him still there, leaning against a distant shelf, his eyes dark and intense, drinking in every detail of me lost in this world he’s crafted.
I realize he’s not just watching me read; he’s watching me experience this, every flicker of emotion that crosses my face, every slight movement of my hands.
He wanted this—for me to lose myself, to feel something here, something he’s brought into existence just for this moment. And I know he’s savoring it, savoring me as I let this world wrap itself around me.
This library isn’t just a gift. It’s a piece of him, a piece of his obsession, carved and crafted and waiting for me alone.
I hear his footsteps approach me as I get lost in a world that only exists in my imagination. He’s closer now. I can feel his presence envelop me. He kneels before me and I finally look up from the pages I’ve been so lost in.
His fingers glide up my legs, moving me, so I’m no longer curled in the chair with a book, my eyes transfixed on his.
There’s a darkness there that causes my body to stir with a desire that curls around me.
“Open your pretty legs for me, Dove.” It wasn’t an order, not here, it was a request. One he needed, I don’t even think as I spread my legs wide for him, holding the book to my chest, making sure I don’t lose the page I was reading from.
The sundress that wraps around my body moves up my waist and as I look down at him his eyes swirl with darkness, he licks his lips as he gazes at my glistening pussy like it’s as magical as I find the words on the pages of this book.
My feet are resting on his knees as he looks at me with a dark look of promise. It’s different this time. He’s not forcing himself on my body. I’m letting him in because I want it as much as he does.
His fingers glide up my thighs, but it isn’t forceful or possessive.
His touch is light and tender, filled with warmth that makes my knees weak.
“I want you to keep reading. Don’t stop.
I want you to read while I devour your pussy.
” His deep voice crawls around my body. “Come on, little bird, pick up your book and read.” He smirks.
I settle back in my seat and hold the book up, scanning the words on the page but struggling to read and get lost in the book as his head disappeared between my legs.
His tongue feels hot and erotic, like it burns just to feel him slide his tongue along my pussy, I bite my lip trying to keep my eyes on the words in front of me but all I can think of is the crawling desire with every slight lick I feel against my dripping pussy.
My fingers curl tightly around the book as I try to keep myself from moaning his name on my tongue like a whisper I dare not speak.
I can feel his tongue press harder against me slowly moving up to my clit, he sucks me into his mouth, his teeth lightly grazing me and the little moans I’d held in fall out, my fingers are slipping from the book as I slide down closer to his face.
His tongue swirls relentlessly, and I can’t hold it in any longer. “Oh, Ashton.” I cry out. His name slips out as the pleasure crawls through my body.
His tongue continues to slide up and down my pussy in torment. I’m not even looking at the book any longer, although it still sits open on my chest.
My fingers tease his hair, hoping that he doesn’t stop now he’s noticed I’m no longer reading—he doesn’t.
His tongue continues to slide lower until I feel him enter me, my back arches and I can’t hold it in anymore, the incoherent screams rip from my body and I push his head further into my greedy pussy, I can feel my legs shudder while his tongue deeply massages my pussy.
“Come on, pretty girl, cum for me.” I hear him mumble.
The way his tongue lashes at my pussy relentlessly has the desire coiling everywhere.
It feels like sparks shoot from my body as desire collapses around me, shattering every fucking part of me until I feel the hard release that rushes through my body.
Screaming out, I see stars as I pour everything I have into his willing mouth.
He laps up every drop that he pulled out of my body and as I look at his head slowly raise, he smirks and I’m no longer feeling desire but something else—something warm that penetrates my heart.
“You are a bad girl.” He gasps. I look at him, confused. “You stopped reading your book.” He smiles.
I wish I had words, but there are none.
Seeing him like this, playful and sweet in this room that he had built just for me, makes the warmth rush to my chest. I smile back at him, still panting. “Your fault.” I smile. “All your fault.”
He didn’t need to say anything else. The mischievous look in his eyes tell me everything I needed to know:
This man was going to ruin me and, goddammit, I was going to let him.