43. Ash
Ash
Claire did it.
She actually did it.
I’d seen people win bloody and brutal fights before, but this had been something else.
There had been no blade and no violence.
Just Claire, smiling sweetly, speaking carefully, dressed like a woman out of my dreams, and dismantling Garrick Halloway piece by piece until there was nothing left of him but a man scrambling to protect what he valued most.
His reputation.
I’d almost laughed. But it had been hard to think. Hard to breathe, even. Because of her.
The red dress she wore clung in ways that should have been illegal. The fabric moved when she did, catching the light, drawing the eye, and the slit along her thigh…
Gods.
Every time she shifted, every time she walked, every time she turned just slightly, I had to drag my gaze back to her face like it was a conscious effort.
And it was. It absolutely was. I’d faced down worse things than a dress.
But Claire, standing there so soft and radiant and entirely unaware of what she was doing to me—that was a different kind of danger.
Not even an hour later, we had landed in a room in the most expensive hotel Norwich had to offer with Garrick’s money. I nearly hadn’t used it out of spite, but there was something satisfying about taking what he’d given me and turning it into something he would never touch again.
The room was already warm when we stepped inside, the fire crackling low and steady in the hearth. Someone had lit candles along the walls, their glow soft against polished stone. A bottle of rosé sat waiting on the table beside two delicate glasses. Everything was perfect.
I barely noticed any of it.
Claire wandered ahead of me, humming under her breath as she took it all in, her fingers trailing along the marble counter. I moved straight for the wine, pulling the cork free with a quiet pop. It wasn’t my drink of choice—too light, too sweet—but tonight wasn’t about preference.
It was about this moment.
About her.
I poured two glasses and found her watching me. Something in her expression had shifted, like the weight of everything that had just happened was finally settling into something real.
“You’re staring,” she murmured.
“Mm-hmm.”
I handed her the glass.
She took it, our fingers brushing. Neither of us pulled away right away.
“To freedom,” Claire said, lifting her glass.
I let out a quiet breath.
“To freedom.”
The wine was cool, crisp, almost too delicate for the way it warmed on the way down. Claire moved closer to the fire, settling onto the rug without ceremony, tucking her legs beneath her. The firelight caught in her hair, in the red of her dress, turning the color deeper, richer.
I watched her.
Then I followed, lowering myself beside her, close enough that our shoulders nearly brushed.
“You were incredible.”
She sighed. “I was terrified.”
“You didn’t look it.”
“That’s because I was focusing very hard on not collapsing in front of him.”
A quiet laugh slipped out of me. She smiled at that and took another sip of her wine.
“I had help,” she added. “Elion helped me design the dress. And I had you, of course.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“You were there,” she said simply. “That counts.”
My chest tightened. We fell into an easy silence after that—the kind that didn’t demand to be filled.
The fire crackled. The wine disappeared slowly. And Claire talked about everything. About the shop in Norwich, the fabrics she’d touched, the dresses she’d imagined. About the way she’d felt walking into that room, like she had stepped into a version of herself she hadn’t known she could be.
“I don’t want to go back to how things were,” she admitted, staring into the fire. “Not entirely.”
I leaned back on one hand, watching her.
“You don’t have to.”
“I know. I just…” She hesitated. “I don’t know what I want it to look like yet.”
I did. Or at least, I knew one thing. I wanted to be in it.
“I would like a home with a garden,” she went on, warming to the thought, “and plenty of room for me to make ribbons and maybe something more. Something that’s mine.”
“You will have it.”
She turned to look at me then. The space between us had narrowed without me realizing it. Or maybe I had.
“You sound very certain,” she murmured.
“I am.”
Her breath caught, and then she smiled.
“Good.”
The firelight flickered between us, shadows dancing across her skin, across the curve of her shoulder where the dress slipped just slightly lower than before. My gaze dropped before I could stop it. Then back to her eyes.
“Still staring,” she said, quieter now.
“Mm.”
I leaned in, closing the space between us inch by inch, giving her time to pull away.
“I think I’ve already lost that fight. I haven’t been able to keep my eyes off you since the moment I met you.”
Her breath hitched.
That was all the permission I needed. I kissed her, and she was so damn warm.
I groaned from the way she leaned into me immediately, her hand finding the front of my shirt like she needed something solid to hold onto.
The sweet wine lingered on her lips. My hand came up to her waist, steadying her as she shifted closer, the fabric of her dress warm beneath my fingers.
“Freedom looks good on you,” she whispered against my mouth.
I exhaled softly, forehead resting against hers.
“Only because you’re in it,” I murmured.
And for the first time in a long, long while, I let myself want something more than survival.
Her.
A future that didn’t end in blood or debt or running.
Claire broke into a dimpled smile, her eyes sparkling with that shy hunger I craved, before she climbed onto my lap.
Her dress bunched up around her waist, exposing those smooth, creamy thighs, and my breath caught as her sex pressed against the rough fabric of my trousers.
She spread her legs wide for me, eager and trembling, her slick folds grinding right over my thigh.
“That’s my good girl,” I growled, my voice thick with lust, hands gripping her hips to pull her closer. “Look at you, spreading so wide and already soaking through that dress. Fuck, you’re dripping for me.”
I buried my face in her soft neck, kissing and nipping the sensitive skin, teasing her until her breathy laugh shattered into a choked moan that shot straight to my core. My hand slid down to her curvy ass, squeezing the firm flesh hard.
“From now on, you’re all mine,” I delivered a light, teasing slap to her cheek. The sound echoed in the room, and her breath hitched.
“Ash…” she whimpered.
“Yes, love?” I replied, my tone rough as I hooked a finger under one strap of her dress and yanked it down her shoulder.
Her pert nipple popped free, hard and begging in the firelight’s warm glow.
I latched onto it immediately, tongue swirling over the tight bud while she arched into my mouth.
Her skin tasted like salt and sweetness, and I groaned against her as I tugged the other strap loose, baring her completely to me.
My hands were everywhere—roaming her soft curves, kneading her breasts, tracing the dip of her waist.
I needed her bare, pressed skin-to-skin, utterly claimed.
“I want you…” Claire murmured, her fingers tangling in my hair.
“You have no idea,” I whispered against her collarbone, shoving the dress down further until it pooled at her hips, revealing her full, heaving tits and the trail of dark curls leading to her glistening slit.
“I’ve dreamed of this—kissing every inch of you, making you moan my name, feeling you clench around my fingers, gush on my tongue while you sing so prettily for me. ”
Her breaths came in ragged gasps now, and she rocked down harder, chasing that friction. I leaned back, hands steady on her hips, watching her like she was the most erotic vision in the realms.
And she was.
Her eyes fluttered shut, lips parted in ecstasy, those curvy hips rolling in desperate circles, smearing her arousal all over me. Gods, it was mesmerizing—her breasts bouncing with each grind. I could watch her ride my thigh all night.
But I wanted more.
I wanted to devour her. If I had her every day, I’d worship this body until she begged for mercy and make her cum so many times she’d forget her own name. Wealth be damned, I’d give her everything, fuck her senseless, and thank the stars for it.
But patience snapped.
“Enough teasing,” I stated bluntly, lifting her off my lap with ease and laying her back on the soft mattress of our shared bed.
The fire crackled nearby, casting flickering shadows over her naked form as I stripped off my tunic and breeches.
Claire’s eyes roamed my body—my toned muscles, the trimmed patch above my slick folds—and she blushed and looked away, shy even now.
I crawled between her legs, pushing her thighs apart wider, exposing her fully. Her sex was a sight—pink and swollen, lips parted and shining with her juices.
“So beautiful, you’re perfect,” I muttered, inhaling her musky scent that made my mouth water. “I’m going to devour you until you soak the sheets.”
Claire bit her lip, nodding with a soft, “Please, Ash…” before I dove in.
My tongue flattened against her slit, lapping up her wetness in one long, slow stroke from her entrance to her clit.
She gasped, hips bucking up, and I pinned her down with one hand on her stomach.
I sucked her clit into my mouth, rolling it gently between my lips, then flicking it with the tip of my tongue.
Her taste exploded on my senses—tangy and addictive—and I groaned, the vibration making her whimper.
“Oh gods, Ash... that feels…” she trailed off into a moan, her hands fisting the sheets.
I didn’t let up, thrusting my tongue deep into her tight hole, fucking her with it while my thumb circled her clit. She was so wet, her walls fluttering around me, and I pulled back just to watch her clench emptily.
Begging for more.
“Tell me how much you love it,” I slid two fingers along her folds before pushing them inside her heat. She was tight, gripping me like a vice, and I curled them upward, stroking that spot that made her cry out.
“I love it... your mouth, your fingers... don’t stop,” Claire panted, her shyness melting into pleas as her hips rolled to meet my thrusts.
I pumped my fingers faster, scissoring them to stretch her, while my mouth latched back onto her clit, sucking hard and relentless. Her thighs trembled around my head, and I added a third finger, stretching her fuller, thumb pressing her clit in firm circles now.
“Cum for me, sweetheart. Drench my hand,” I growled against her skin, tongue lashing her clit without mercy.
Claire shattered with a keening wail, her sex clamping down on my fingers as her orgasm hit. Juices squirted out around my hand, soaking my wrist and the bed beneath us. I kept thrusting through it, milking every spasm until she went limp, chest heaving, eyes glazed with bliss.
But I wasn’t done.
I kissed up her body, tasting the sweat on her skin.
She was spent but pulled me closer. I positioned myself between her legs again, this time grinding my own sex against hers—our folds meshing in a wet friction that had us both moaning.
I rocked harder, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand, dominating her completely.
“Feel that? Me sliding against you, so slippery from your cum.” Claire’s eyes widened, another shy flush coloring her cheeks, but she arched up, meeting my rhythm. I ground down with purpose, clit to clit, until sparks built again.
Slipping my fingers back inside her—still slick from before—I fucked her steadily while tribbing her. Her second orgasm built slower but deeper, her body quivering under me.
“Ash... too much... I’m…”
“Cum again, Claire. Let go for me,” I commanded, pinching her nipple and thrusting deep. She broke with a sob, walls fluttering around my fingers, her release pushing me over the edge, too. I ground down hard, my own climax crashing through me, my sex pulsing against hers as I rode it out.
Finally, I collapsed beside her, pulling her exhausted form into my arms. Claire curled against my chest, panting, her body limp and sated.
“So tired…” she murmured, eyes heavy-lidded.
“Sleep now,” I whispered, stroking her hair. “I’ve got you.”
The fire died to embers, but our warmth lingered, bodies entwined in the quiet tavern room.