Chapter 18
Chapter eighteen
Martine Lilian Herron
Iwake up to the weight of his arm around my waist. I don’t remember what happened.
There’s blood on my breasts—my cut is open again. A delicious ache throbs between my thighs, but none of that is what frightens me.
It’s the strong, warm, muscular arms wrapped around my body. It’s the wolf of the man in bed next to me.
For a second, I don’t move. His chest is pressed against my back, steady and warm. His other arm is under my neck, holding me like he’d been there all night.
I look at some of the scars that coat his arms, markings I've never had the privilege of seeing.
The sheets are smooth, the room is dim and quiet, and I know exactly where I am. Our bed. I barely remember passing out at the dining table, but the pain in my body reminds me. My cheek is sore, and I have a sticky wetness between my legs and a still swollen clit.
He’d never held me like this before. Not even after everything else he’s done to me or for me. This feels…intimate…
I turn toward him slowly, careful not to wake him. His arm loosens just enough for me to shift, his hand falling to the small of my back.
He looks peaceful like this, and less sharp. The edge in his jaw has softened; his mouth is slightly parted, his lashes dark against his skin. With his blond hair falling over his forehead, there’s something almost boyish about him.
But I prefer him awake.
I prefer the man who watches me with that piercing gaze, who doesn’t hesitate when he wants something, especially when that something is me.
I prefer him decisive and in control, the version of him who claims what’s his without apology.
There’s a thrill in the way he moves when he’s certain, when there’s no doubt that my body belongs to him.
The softness disappears then, replaced by something that makes me feel owned most exquisitely.
As beautiful as he is, I find myself waiting for him to wake up and remind me who I belong to.
I shouldn’t. I know better.
But I lean in anyway.
Just a breath away from his mouth, I hesitate. My heart is pounding. I hate that he makes me feel like this, unsure, nervous, like I’m fifteen again and about to do something stupid like steal my parents' car or jump into a lake from a very, very tall rock.
I do it anyway. I press a soft kiss to his lips.
He growls once he feels my lips on his.
Low and rough in his throat. His eyes snap open, always dark, my reflection mirrored in them as usual.
Before I can pull back, he grabs me, one hand at the back of my neck, the other tightening around my waist. I barely have time to breathe before he pulls me flush against his chest. I feel his erection already stabbing at my stomach.
“Hi,” I whisper.
“Hi, darling,” he mutters in a voice thick with sleep.
His hand slides up my back, slow, possessive.
“You kissed me.”
“I couldn’t help it,” I say, not bothering to deny it.
His eyes search mine for a moment like he’s deciding what to do with me. Then he kisses me back, harder, wrapping my hair around his hand to pull tightly and command my movements. I love him like that, needing to remind me who I belong to.
The kiss deepens.
His fingers tighten in my hair, his mouth harder on mine, like he’s trying to pull something out of me, or put something in. Heat flares low in my stomach, and I grip his shoulder without thinking and wiggle against him.
He backs up slightly to slip my panties off, his erection already hot and hard, the wet tip grazing my stomach. I whimper at the idea of him inside me, and can't help the desperate plea that leaves my lips. I am so completely ruined for this man.
His eyes lock with mine.
“You’re so beautiful, darling.”
God his words. They turn me into a mess that can’t help but beg.
“Please.”
He kisses me again, longer this time, slower. Ignoring my pleas and taking what he wants from my lips—tugging my hair in a way that causes tears to spring to my eyes. So at odds with the tenderness of his lips on mine.
When he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine. We’re both breathing a little harder.
His voice is quiet, still rough, and sleep-warmed.
"I've never slept with anyone before."
I blink. My throat tightens.
Before I can respond, he hikes my leg up and around his hip, keeping us chest to chest.
He keeps his eyes on mine, steady as he slowly slides up and into me in one wicked thrust.
I suck in a moan as my toes curl in response to his sudden penetration.
His jaw twitches.
Then, quieter, he says, “I never wanted to.”
A pause. Then he adds, “Until you.”
His words sink into my skin like heat. I feel the weight of them between every breath, every inch where our bodies meet.
My fingers tighten at the back of his neck, pulling him closer.
It’s only a matter of time before he pins them behind my back.
But he doesn’t move, he just holds us there, his cock throbbing deep inside me like he’s trying to make me understand something he can’t quite say aloud.
I’m dying for his hips to move, and I let out a little whimper as I feel his cock jump inside of me.
“I wasn’t supposed to want this,” he murmurs, his voice a rasp against my ear. “Not with you,” He presses his forehead back to mine. “I hate how obsessed I am with you. ”
I swallow, trying to find air, trying to find steady ground beneath the tidal pull of him. “Pleaaaase,” I beg as I flutter on his shaft. I want to cum so terribly, my thighs hurt from flexing in desire.
A flicker in his gaze, possessive, almost tender, marred with his ever-present violence. His lips brush mine, not quite a kiss, more like a vow. And then he moves.
Slow. Purposeful. Like he wants to memorize me from the inside out.
This is the first time he’s taken me so slowly, and I relish every thrust of his thick, hot pulsing flesh at my center.
His usual hand at my throat, his tongue in my mouth, stealing all of my breath and making it hard to breathe. I wrap my legs around his hip, each shift of his hips unraveling parts of me I didn’t know were knotted. Tugging and pulling at my scalp, making sure I have my anchor of pain.
“I won’t fight it,” he breathes. “Not anymore.” Each word is punctuated with a thrust of his hips. I’m treated to the incredible feeling of him hitting my cervix. Delivering that sharp, hot burst of pain he makes me crave.
“I thought it would be easier to hate you,” he emphasizes his point with a scowl, “but I’m learning it’s far easier to let you consume me instead.”
He looks at war with his statement, like it’s something that pains him to admit.
I feel a punch in the gut from his words; a reaction so visceral runs through my body, a current of energy surges under my skin.
The tears in my eyes turn to something else as I watch him memorize the emotion on my face.
I can see his understanding in his eyes; the clarity on his face is too overwhelming for even him to bear. So he does what Hayden does.
He flips me on my stomach in response, nearly knocking the air out of me. With precision, he then quickly lifts my hips up so my ass is in the air, and my head pressed down on the goose feather mattress.
The sheets smell delicious, like his cologne and skin. Like his sweat.
Pulling my arms back and grabbing his shirt discarded on the floor, he uses it to tie my arms behind my back in a tight knot, making me whimper.
“Beg.” He commands. One dark word, holding all of the power behind the devotion and pain he is about to show my body.
I want to behave, but my body craves the treatment it gets when I misbehave more.
“Why should I?” I grit out, already feeling some of my wetness slide down my inner thigh.
Before I can register, his palm is cracking down on my ass, and I let out a sharp yelp in pain, scrambling forward a bit. With a hard grip on my arms, he shifts me few inches back.
“Don’t make me take away your pretty voice, darling. You know I love to hear you begging for my cock.” He says, lining himself back up. I feel the tip of his throbbing shaft at my entrance. “Begging to come. Begging me to snuff the light out of those beautiful eyes.”
I look back at him, my face a mix of euphoria and horror. I’m ashamed of how I love to be treated. How desperate I am for him to humiliate me and use my body, so I tell him just that.
“Please fuck all of my holes.” It comes out wet and breathy, like a prayer on my sinner's tongue. I instantly regret doing anything other than what he says. His rewards are grand, too.
He chuckles under his breath as I look over my shoulder at him.
The gods built his body to ruin me. His six-pack abs on his tanned body are hot ridges I’m begging to lick. At nearly 6’5”, he towers over me, able to use his strength in ways that I’ll dream about for the rest of my life.
“Please make it hurt,” I beg.
My words overwhelm me, and he hushes me like a scared animal, soothing the deep, desperate part of me that aches to be cared for.
“I know, darling. It’s okay,” he says gently, “I’ll give you your pain, you just have to earn it first.”
I whimper when I feel his spit land on my puckered back hole and brace myself for him to enter me.
Instead, with the precision and ability to bring me to orgasm in mere seconds, his ring and middle finger begin playing with my clit, his shaft still nudging at my back entrance.
Circling my clit in a way that makes my thighs quiver and my breathing short, I try to grind back to feel him slide inside of me.
It’s too soft in comparison to what I asked for, too raw and too real. I try to push myself back on his fingers, and he makes a displeased noise. Quickly, he cracks his palm down onto my ass once more, giving me a brief bit of that pain I'm desperate for.