Chapter Seventeen
Max
Judging from Ember’s sharp inhale, I think she might not entirely hate the idea. That’s good, because I can’t fucking wait to get started. And, once she’s thoroughly punished, we’ll get to the part I’ve been itching for since she first came onto me, many years ago.
I grip her waist and flip her over, pulling her to her knees. She braces her elbows on the bed, following instructions like a good girl. Her irresistible ass bounces, taunting me.
I crouch behind her, lifting the crop and smacking the flat end against my palm. She jerks as if I’ve hit her, then casts a slow, cautious glance over her shoulder.
“Eyes on the headboard,” I instruct. “But no disconnecting. If you do, I’ll know, and it’ll only draw this out.” I gently trail the flapper of the crop over her ass, watching as goosebumps rise on her arms and legs. “This part’s going to hurt, but I want you to breathe through it. Got it?”
“Yes.” When I land a short, sharp hit on her ass, she hisses out, “Sir.”
“Good girl.”
I start out with gentle taps, warming her, even though my hand itches to land painful cracks.
Patience, I remind myself. Having the actual woman of my dreams in my bed is almost too much to bear—it makes me want to rut and fuck and take, but I know better.
I need to have more care than normal with Ember, because she’s not a normal girl.
When I think she’s ready and there’s a slight flush on her ass, I land the first hard blow.
She arches and yelps, fisting the bedsheets, moving around restlessly.
I hit her again, and again. I don’t have an exact number in mind—my goal is to push her near the breaking point, then put her back together.
It takes longer than expected to get there. Welts rise on her ass, first in a pretty pink color, then in an angrier red. She yelps, whines, and shifts, but she doesn’t complain or ask me to stop. She also doesn’t dissociate, staying present for me like the good girl I’ll turn her into.
I up the force of my hits, even as concern niggles in the back of my mind.
I’m looking for a particular reaction before I stop.
Not necessarily to hear her beg—I don’t think her pride will let her do that—but to hear her noises turn from ones of endurance to ones telling me that I’m getting close to the edge.
It. Doesn’t. Work.
Her pain tolerance is even higher than anticipated…
My gaze falls to her feet. Cruel, but useful. I take her foot in my hand, angle it just right, and smack the crop down on it. She gasps, head lowering to press into the mattress. A few hits later, she fists the bedsheets, and screams.
Fucking finally.
I drop the crop, slide my hands up her legs, and clutch her heated ass, digging my fingernails in. She screams again, a ragged, agonized sound, and I know she’s had enough.
I flip her back over. Her features are contorted, eyes dazed but not distant, cheeks flushed. When her ass meets the bedsheets, she grimaces, but doesn’t cry out again.
There are no tears beneath her eyes, which is mildly surprising. She’s a tough one—I think it’ll take more than pain to earn her tears, and I look forward to getting there.
“Breathe,” I tell her, and pull off her nipple clamps, one at a time.
The result is a low groan of agony. Her nipples are a dark red, and when I cup her breasts in my palms, she jerks and cries out again. I brush my thumbs over the stiff peaks; she moans, shaking her head furiously.
“I can’t—too much.”
I give her a glance over. I don’t think it’s too much—yet. “Too bad.”
I lower my mouth, laving my tongue over her blazing nipple.
A moan of agony filters from her lips as I wrap my lips around it and work it with my tongue, eyes nearly rolling in pleasure.
She’s soft, warm, and sweet. I’ve sucked plenty of tits in my day, but it’s never been this satisfying, because no one’s ever truly been mine.
Mine for a night or a couple of nights, maybe, but not like this.
Every fiber of Ember’s being belongs to me. She is completely, utterly, and irrevocably mine.
My cock is so hard it’s painful, and it’s leaking ungodly amounts of precum. I want to be buried inside her desperately, but I hold myself in check.
“Fuck—Max—please,” she whines. “Too—too much.”
I ignore her, switching to her other nipple. Another arch of her luscious breasts, feeding her nipple deeper into my mouth. I test it with my teeth, digging in until she squirms, pants, and whines.
My fingers reach down, sliding over her thigh until I find her pussy. I nearly burst out of my skin when sopping wetness greets me. She’s leaking like a sieve, creating a rush of nectar that I’m dying to lap up.
“Flame.” I lift my head. “I asked before, but I’m not going to ask this time. I want to taste you so badly I might die if I don’t, and I’m done denying myself the pleasure.”
She blinks rapidly, staring at me with a mixture of wariness and curiosity. I hide a smile, running my fingers through her folds. I lodge a finger in her entrance, frowning when I find just how fucking tight she is. I don’t feel a hymen, but that doesn’t necessarily mean…
“Are you a virgin?” I ask her.
Her lips clamp shut. She turns her head away, shutting me out. My heart thuds in my chest until I can feel it crawling up my throat. “Ember.” I bite her nipple to get her attention; she cries out. “I asked you a question.”
“Kind of,” she whispers.
I squint. “How can you kind of be a virgin? You’ve either had someone’s cock in your pussy, or you haven’t. Which is it?”
“By that definition… yes.”
“Yes, you’ve been fucked? Or yes, you’re a virgin?”
Her cheeks flame brighter than I’ve ever seen them. “The latter.”
Holy. Fucking. Hell.
I nearly lose it right then and there. I nearly thrust into her and claim her like an animal, making a home for myself inside her.
“You can’t fuck me.” Her voice is panicked.
I snarl. “The hell I can’t—”
“Max. You cannot fuck me. Dagon will…” she shakes her head frantically. “I’m supposed to save myself for him. We have a deal.”
Anger overtakes my common sense. “You’re holding out for that piece of shit? You’d choose him over me?” I’m unreasonably enraged at the thought. What the hell does Dagon have that I don’t? Why is she so fucking loyal to—
“It’s not about a choice, Maximus.” Her words are sharp enough to cut. “It’s the only way to keep my world from crumbling. He’ll… he’ll do something I can’t live with if I don’t obey his rules.”
The leverage. Whatever he has on her that’s keeping her reluctantly loyal to him. “Then tell me what it fucking is, and let me fix it.”
She stares at me for several agonizingly long moments. I almost think she’s considering it.
Do it, my eyes beg. Confide in me. I won’t let you down—I never have.
Well, I did, once, when she disappeared and I didn’t search hard enough. When she endured years of trauma and torment because I wasn’t there for her.
I don’t intend to ever repeat that mistake again. I’ll have her back, whether or not she wants me to.
“I can’t,” she whispers. “I don’t trust you.”
And, just like that, my anger returns. “I’m going to fuck you soon either way. If you tell me what Dagon has on you, I can take care of it and clear your worries. Otherwise…” I shrug. “I imagine it’ll just be stressful for you.”
Her jaw clenches. “Fuck. You.”
“No, Flame. I’ll be the one fucking you. For now…” I slide down her body. Wedge her legs open with my shoulders. My mouth literally salivates as I stare at her glistening pussy, desperate for a taste.
I wasn’t lying when I told her I’m a hedonist; I am. And I think her pussy is about to turn into my first ever addiction.
I spread her folds with my thumbs, lower my head, and blow cool air right over her clit.
She arches, and a choked noise escapes her.
I’m eager to hear it turn into a moan, and I’m more than eager to finally find out what she tastes like, so that’s what I do.
I give her a long, slow lick, from entrance to clit.
Her flavor—musky, mildly sweet, so feminine and utterly her—bursts over my tastebuds, and I fucking lose it.
I spear my tongue inside her, lapping up every drop she has to give me, trapping her clit under my thumb. I start gliding my finger over it, up and down, side to side, testing different speeds and pressures. She tries to keep her noises trapped, but her nonverbal cues tell me all I need to know.
When I rub the side of her little clit, up and down, I feel it swell and she writhes. In circles has a similar, more potent effect.
She tastes like innocence, darkness, and my future. She’s my forever, and I’ll burn the world down if it means I’ll become her forever. I’m so fucking desperate for this girl.
“Wait—” her voice is panicked and confused. “I… I don’t—”
I lift my head. The stark uncertainty stamped on her expression tells me all I need to know.
“Flame,” I say carefully. “Have you ever had an orgasm?” I imagine she must’ve touched herself as a teen…
but she might not remember. Or she might’ve been too much of a prude.
In either case, has she touched herself since Dagon got his hands on her?
She hesitates, then shakes her head. “I… don’t think so.”
“If you had, you’d know.” I dart my tongue over her clit.
“Come whenever you’re ready.” There’s no way I’m going to stop her.
In the future, I might make her wait for it or deny her, but not today.
It’s a point of pride to be the bestower of her first orgasm.
I intend to be the first and the fucking last.
I wrap my lips around her clit, spearing my fingers inside her.
Finally—fucking finally—she releases a loud cry.
I slide my free hand beneath her, lifting her hips, bringing her closer to my mouth…
And then I feel it. Her pussy clamps around my fingers so violently I think she’ll break them off, and her back bows.
A shriek sounds like it’s torn from her, and she orgasms with untamable tremors.
A swell of pride rises in my chest as I replace my fingers with my tongue, and rub her clit with my thumb.
Her thighs shake, her legs try to close only to clamp on my shoulders, and fuck, she tastes so delicious, she’s all I want to eat for the rest of my life.
I drink up her orgasm in greedy gulps, holding her hips steady. Her descent from the peak is slow and languid. Her shivering persists, but her pussy stops clenching. I pull back. Lick the remnants of her orgasm from my lips, grunting. Swipe my fingers across my mouth, then climb back up her.
She’s dazed. Confused. Looking like she might be about to burst into tears, but also, somehow composed. Leave it to my woman to be the ultimate oxymoron.
“I’m going to be having your pussy for breakfast, lunch, and dinner,” I decide. “And snacks."
I don’t say out loud that me going down on her will necessarily lead to me letting her come, because it’ll vary widely. If I’m in a good mood, she’ll come. If I’m in a bad mood, she might not. If I’m furious, coming will turn into a punishment.
I wouldn’t classify myself as a sadist, pleasure dom, or any of the concrete boxes of BDSM. I’m a mix of all of them. I get off on my partner’s reactions, and on extremes. Extreme pain—great. Extreme pleasure—fantastic. Anything that’ll drive whoever I’m fucking to the edge of insanity.
And I already know that all of my experiences and desires will pale in comparison to how it is with Ember. She’s something new entirely.
“You’re my favorite flavor.” I lean down to rub my nose over hers, smiling at the smear of wetness I leave. “And my favorite person.”
“You’re…” she trails off. “A menace.”
I chuckle. “I’ll take the compliment.”
“It wasn’t meant as one.”
My lips quirk at her quips. I stroke her hair back from her face, gazing at her earnestly. I want to tell her so many things—that she doesn’t have to be afraid anymore, that I’ll protect her, and that I’ve missed her so much, having her in my bed feels like a dream I’m loathe to wake up from.
But I don’t. She won’t believe me—she stares at me with open caution and distrust. She’s severely traumatized by men, and it sounds like she has quite a lot of PTSD that encumbers her daily life.
I want to help her, but at the moment, I’m not sure how. The first step is to get her evaluated at medical—she looks malnourished and overly fatigued. Then, I need to look into getting her help for her mental health, because my Ember is very clearly not okay, even if she puts up a good front.
I reach up, carefully releasing her from her chains, all sorts of sordid ideas crowding my thoughts. I can do anything to and with this girl, and nobody can stop me. I can run down my list of fantasies and her list of fantasies, though I expect it’ll take work to pull them out of her.
I’ve already deduced she’s a bit of a masochist—hence how wet she got both times I took out my anger on her ass. Now, I’m curious what her broad response to extremes is. How will she enjoy it if I tie her up firmly, edge her into oblivion, and then force her to come until she’s begging me to stop?
I trail a finger down her torso, staring at her swollen nipples, mouth watering. “How’s your ass?”
She blinks. “Fine. I’ve had much worse.”
The scars on her body tell me as much. She has a very high pain tolerance, which gives me room to get very creative. At the same time… I have no intention of being next in the long line of men who have abused her and taken cruel liberties with her.
“Are you hungry?” I ask.
Her nose wrinkles. “You’re not my parent. You don’t need to look after my basic health.”
“That’s exactly what I need to do, since you’ve done a piss poor job of looking after yourself,” I counter. “Speaking of… we have an appointment to get to.”
“An appointment?” she repeats, frowning.
I nod. “Full assessment from our medical team. I made arrangements while you were in the annex. Can you walk?”
I wouldn’t mind the excuse to carry her around.
I had a hard time understanding Greyson’s desire to take care of Scarlett—carrying her everywhere, hand-feeding her—until now.
Now, it makes complete sense. Being Ember’s provider and caretaker, having her depend on me and trust me, is a heady thought.
“Of course I can. You haven’t done anything debilitating yet.”
“And I won’t,” I remind her. “I don’t want to break you, Ember. Like I’ve already said, I want to keep you.”