Chapter Nineteen
Autumn
Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.
I’m running through this maze of a house, heart hammering so loud it drowns out my own breath.
“Autumn!”
His voice rolls through the halls like thunder, and a startled laugh slips out of me before panic swallows it. Maybe turning his office into a fairyland wasn’t the smartest idea after all.
Oh—
He hasn’t seen his bedroom yet.
A nervous giggle escapes as I sprint down the hallway toward the narrower staircase at the back. I’ve never been up here before. It feels forgotten, dust in the air, cold stone under my feet, shadows clinging to every corner. A long corridor stretches ahead, lined with closed doors.
I grab the handle on the fourth one and push inside.
Empty, except for a single rug and a chandelier that glitters faintly above me. Are those… diamonds?
The curtains are deep red velvet, the floor polished wood, the walls a dark slate gray broken by carved gothic columns. Beautiful. Sinister. Exactly the kind of room a man like him would hide from the world.
I dart to the small dresser in the corner and crouch behind it, pressing a hand to my mouth to quiet the sound of my breathing.
The air smells of dust and old cedar. Every creak in the hallway makes my pulse trip faster, then his voice, low, rough, and unhurried, slides through the doorway. “Trouble.”
It’s not a shout this time. It’s a promise, soft and dangerous.
The kind of voice that makes my blood freeze and my heartbeat quicken anyway.
I was bored. Pissed off. And honestly, it seemed like a good idea at the time.
But now, hearing him in the hallway, boots striking the floor like slow threats. Yeah, maybe it wasn’t.
The room is dark, with no lights on. But he flicks the hallway switch, and a golden glow spills through the cracked door. It creaks open. Slow. Careful. Hunting.
He steps inside.
My breath snags in my throat, pulse thundering wild.
He scans the room once, eyes narrowing to slits. Then turns and walks out.
I exhale sharp, chest heaving, body trembling with leftover adrenaline. I start to rise.
The door slams open.
“Gotcha.”
I spin as he storms back in, a wall of muscle and menace. I bolt for the far side, but he is faster. Shoulders rolling like a predator, steps heavy and sure. He cuts me off in two strides, blocking the door with his bulk.
“My office?” His voice rumbles low, lethal. No emerald left in his eyes. Just black hunger.
I step back, heart slamming against ribs. “It was just a joke.”
He smirks, dark and slow, lips curling to bare teeth. “Calling me bestie was the worst thing you could’ve done.”
He lunges.
His arm snakes around my waist, and he spins, slamming me down onto the thick rug. Breath explodes from my lungs in a gasp.
He drops over me in a heartbeat. Before I can scramble, he kicks my legs wide and settles between them, caging me with his weight. Thighs like steel pinning mine.
“Stop! Let me go, Flynn! You asshole!” I scream. Fight. Twist like hell, but he snatches both wrists, slamming them above my head in one brutal grip. I thrash harder, desperate, and then his hold slips a fraction. I strike and bite hard, my teeth sinking deep into the meat of his forearm.
“Fuck,” he growls, the sound vibrating through his chest into mine, but he doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t flinch.
His grip only tightens, savage approval flashing in those black eyes. A low, primal rumble escapes his throat. Pleasure, raw and animal. He likes the pain. Craves the mark.
One hand locks my wrists harder. The other slides down my throat, pressing and gripping hard. His thighs clamp tighter, grinding me into the rug, his weight a claiming force that owns every inch.
“Say it again,” he dares, voice ragged with hunger. “Tell me to stop.”
I should.
I should scream it. Cry it, but heat floods my veins. My body arches up into him, his hips rolling on instinct. I don’t want him to stop.
He leans down, hand on my neck, pressing just enough to make stars flicker at the edges of my vision. “You know I love when you scream.”
Christ.
Flynn screams control all the time, but in these moments he turns into something else. Feral. Untamed. And I want it. Crave the monster.
“Please.” The word rips out, desperate, my voice cracking under his palm.
He stares, pupils blown wide, a predator savouring prey. “I’m gonna teach you how to be a good girl. How to take me, all of me.” His tongue drags slow across my lips, hot and claiming. “How to beg for me.”
He eases the pressure on my throat, lets air flood back in a dizzy rush. His hand trails down, rough over my breasts. Pinches my nipple viciously hard. Pain lances sharp, tears swelling instantly in my eyes.
He yanks my t-shirt up, shoving my bra down in one brutal tug. His mouth descends, tongue laving the sting, warm and wet. His body weighs heavy, thighs like iron trapping mine. My hips roll up shamelessly, grinding against the rigid length, straining his pants, chasing the friction.
He growls against my skin, teeth grazing the peak before he lifts his head. One hand snaps back to my throat, thumb pressing the hollow just enough to remind me who owns my breath. “Hold it,” he commands, voice gravel and smoke. “Don’t breathe till I say.”
My lungs burn instantly. Chest heaves against his grip. Panic flickers, but heat pools hotter between my thighs. I nod frantically, eyes locked on his.
He watches, savage satisfaction curling his lips. Veins bulge thick along his forearm as he tightens a fraction more. “Good girl. Feel that? Your air is mine. Your pulse. Your cunt.” His free hand wedges between us, cupping me rough through fabric. “All mine to give or take.”
Stars dance. Lungs scream. I buck harder, soaked and aching, tears spilling down my temples.
He leans in, lips brushing my ear. “Now breathe and thank me.”
Air rushes in, and I gasp. “Fuck you, Flynn.”
He smirks, then with one fluid yank he rips his belt free.
Leather whispers through loops like a promise.
I kick wild, but his thighs clamp mine like iron traps.
He lifts just enough to flip me; my face slams into the rug, coarse fibres biting my cheek.
My hands jerk behind my back, the belt loops tight, binding my wrists.
I buck hard, fight, but his knee digs into my lower back. Pins me flat with his weight.
His hand slides to my waistband. Tugs my leggings down to mid-knee in one rough pull. Panties snag and follow, baring me cold.
He drops over me again. Zipper rasps loudly in the quiet. “Let’s see if you can take all of me now.” Voice rough, dark, heavy with hunger.
His arm plants beside my face, muscles bulging, veins roping thick under ink as he holds himself up. Other hand wedges between my thighs. One finger presses slow at my entrance. My body shivers violently, slick heat betraying me.
“So fucking wet, trouble.” He grunts, warm breath caressing my ear.
“Flynn.” It spills, breathy, needy and raw.
His huge tip nudges my entrance, blunt and demanding. “Now, be a good girl and relax that pretty cunt for me.”
My body obeys like he commands it. He presses slow. Every inch stretches, burns laced with pleasure. Walls scream to yield, giving room inch by torturous inch.
“That’s it. Open for me.” He groans, teeth sinking into my earlobe. “I want to mark you, Autumn. Your skin. Your cunt. All of you.”
A moan tears free. He surges forward in one brutal slide. Fire explodes. I scream, pain and fear twisting sharp. “Feel that? Now I’m all inside you.” He draws back slow, thrusts in again. Every vein, every ridge drags against my sensitive walls. Pleasure builds through the ache.
Then he pulls out. Tip presses lower, nudging my ass. I freeze solid.
“Please, Flynn. Don’t. I can’t.” Voice shakes, fear spiking cold.
“I know.” He kisses my temple softly, almost tender, as my forehead presses on the rug. “We’ll train this. In a week you’ll drip my cum from your ass and pussy.” He grunts a low, filthy promise.
His words ignite something twisted; my body craves harder. Never thought this darkness would soak me, but his control, voice like velvet over steel, muscles tensing over me. All of it. Makes me want to submit, push, obey and defy in the same breath.
He slams back into my cunt. Air blasts from my lungs. He thrusts relentless, harder. Skin slaps echo off grey walls. My body slides under the force. He hauls me back by my bound hands, owning the rhythm.
“Call me fucking bestie now.” He roars like thunder.
“Flynn.” His name moans like prayer. Body accustoms to his size. Pain softens, and pleasure surges hot.
“You offered me your blood, and now I’m taking it all.” He thrusts harder. “All of this.” Deeper. “Belongs.” Brutal. “To me.”
He pulls out suddenly. Flips me roughly, and my back slams on the floor; pain radiates from my bound hands. He shoves my legs wide, slides down, and I feel his tongue twisting wickedly on my clit.
“Oh my—” A moan cuts off raw; the sensation explodes, different from that night. Different from anything. My back arches helplessly, hips grinding up into his mouth.
He stands between my legs, towering like a storm about to break. I look down at him through the haze of my own ragged breaths as he grabs the hem of his shirt and peels it off slow, like he knows exactly what the sight does to me.
His torso hits me like a punch, pure power and barely leashed rage etched in every hard line.
Tattoos swarm his chest: skulls grinning through drips of crimson blood, crows with wings spread wide in mid-flight, all tangled around a thick Celtic knot that pulses over his pecs with every heavy breath he takes.