Epilogue Two
Clara
“Left hand up,” Deniz reminds me.
“Don’t tell me what to do,” I snap.
I breathe through my nose, lifting my left hand higher despite my retort, and bounce on my toes. Usually, I don’t join him while he boxes—this is more of a thing for him and his friends. But Taf is on shift at the hospital, Bashir is visiting his father, Chase had to see about a fellow in Majorca , whatever the fuck that means, and I needed to blow off some steam.
So Deniz suggested a boxing lesson. I’ll admit, I haven’t practiced hand-to-hand combat in a long time, and my form is rough. But I lean into the muscle memory of my childhood instruction, rolling my neck when I dodge a few of Deniz’s swipes.
We’re both holding back, but not by much. Deniz would never injure me, and vice versa, but a little pain? We might even prefer it that way.
The catharsis I was looking for bleeds into something else entirely as we trade blows, keeping our eyes locked on one another as we circle the ring. My heart beats in my ears as the adrenaline of the fight mixes with the carnal desire in Deniz’s eyes. I know he feels it too, the taunt in each strike, the challenge inherent in slipping barely out of the other’s reach. My skin is hot and sensitive for more reasons than one, the physical exertion making this game far more enjoyable.
“Left,” he reminds again as he aims a jab at my exposed side, his voice much lower, much rougher than before. I take the hit in stride, breathing through a small bloom of pain. Being able to feel my pulse even stronger there, the way my nerves tingle and pulse with the beat of my heart, shouldn’t turn me on. But here we are.
We circle each other, our bodies tense as we look for weakness. Sweat drips down Deniz’s bare chest, which is incredibly distracting. So is the casual confidence in his stance, and the way his pupils are blown wide.
The next time I try to land a punch, he ducks out of the way and snakes his arm around the one I’ve let drop to my side. He twists it behind me, hard enough to make me cry out, the sound nearly indistinguishable from a cry of pleasure.
He presses my body into the taut ropes at the edge of the ring, wrapping me in an overwhelming, overstimulating warmth. There’s no one else at the gym, thank god, because the show he puts on is indecent for public consumption. He presses his hips against my ass, letting me feel how hard he is as his mouth finds my neck.
“You need to protect your left, Clara,” he murmurs into my skin, his tongue and teeth making their way from ear to shoulder. “You can’t leave yourself unprotected.”
The adrenaline is overwhelming, making me momentarily forget that I’m supposed to put up a fight. I arch back into him, grinding against his cock and reveling in the groan he can’t cover.
His free hand slips under my oversized t-shirt, lighting a blaze beneath his fingertips. I’m trapped, my body pressed between his and the ropes, unable to control my own body.. And it feels so fucking good.
It’s always like this with Deniz. We give and we take, finding pleasure in both roles. Sometimes we fight for it, and sometimes one of us submits freely. But the most gratifying part is the trust—knowing that we can each give each other total control without fear. For two people hell-bent on killing each other a few months ago, it’s a miracle.
Or maybe a little inevitable.
“I don’t think I’m ever unprotected with you, am I?” I tease, reaching up to grab his hair by the root. I pull his face away from my neck, where I can already feel bite marks and soft bruises forming, twisting to press my lips against his.
The taste of Deniz mixed with the salt from my skin sends my body into overdrive. I arch my back harder, trying to find friction when I know it’s impossible at this angle. When we finally come up for breath, I know precisely what I want. What game I want to play.
“Do you still always know where I am, Deniz?” I ask, twisting my shoulder, showing him without words that I want to be released. He does so without hesitation. We still use words, but enough time in our bed has taught us how to read each other’s bodies, too.
“Of course, ????,” he responds, holding still as I slip under the ropes, dropping to the floor outside the ring. He’s nearly vibrating with anticipation, a predatory smile on his kiss-swollen lips.
“Prove it,” I dare, grabbing the keys to his car and leaving the gym.
Deniz
I give her a head start. It’s more fun that way.
Pulling up the dash cameras inside my car would be too easy. The best part of this game is finding her, but a close second is the chase. The reminder that she’s turned on by the fact that I can find her anywhere, that my eyes are always on her. Her little stunt facing our bedroom mirror wasn’t the last time she’s used my cameras to both of our advantage.
My moon likes to be gazed at. I have no qualms with obliging.
I shower at the gym, taking my time and forcing myself not to fuck my fist. The taste of her skin still graces my tongue, but I grit my teeth and abstain, enjoying the anticipation of the hunt too much to find relief so early.
When I’m clean and I’ve packed both our bags, I finally allow myself to search. None of the motion sensors at home have gone off, and I wouldn’t expect her to go somewhere so predictable. I could follow her through the traffic lights around the gym, but I want to see her beautiful, vicious face.
I pull up the feed of the dash cam and blink at a dark, blank screen. Strange. The app says the camera is functioning, and I can hear the soft rumble of the engine, but it’s like she’s covered the lens.
God, I love her.
I switch to the backup camera, which really only gives me an image of the car right behind her and a bit of periphery. But after a few blocks, I make out a few recognizable spots. Ranch-style homes along curving roads. Three way stops with bad blind spots. She’s driving through Laurel Canyon.
Lee’s on vacation and Clara let them use the car they usually chauffeur her around in, so we’ve been sharing my vehicles. I pick up the keys to the Hellcat, blood pumping in my ears as I make my way out into the parking lot.
It’s midmorning on a weekday, the sun bright and blinding overhead, but the streets are relatively empty for Los Angeles. I pull into the light traffic, connecting the backup camera feed to my dashboard display, keeping an eye on her trajectory as I head toward Laurel Canyon Road.
As I drive, my head swims with the images of what to do with Clara when I catch her. She’s more pliant today than usual, and I visualize the dozens of ways I could turn her pleasure into pain and pain into pleasure underneath me, exactly how I know she likes. The way she begs me to.
About halfway up the canyon, I hear her turn the engine off. I’ve been so distracted by my runaway imagination, I haven’t been paying close enough attention to where she’s going. When I look at the screen, I see a dirt lot, vehicles passing behind Clara in a hairpin turn.
I think I recognize where she is, but I have no idea why she’s stopped until I hear her soft intake of breath.
If I wasn’t mad with desire before, the sound of Clara’s pleasure solidifies it. I flip back to the dash cam, but she still has it covered, which makes me grip the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles crack. She murmurs my name as her breath comes in pants, delicate moans slipping from her lips.
I have to take the turns on this road easy or I’ll flip my fucking car, but it feels like an impossible task when my head is filled with the sounds of her touching herself. My dick is so hard it’s painful, my body demanding to be inside her, now.
It takes me eleven minutes. Eleven minutes of torture as I have to listen to her work herself up. Not watch, just listen.
When I park next to her at the Mulholland Scenic Overlook, there are no other cars in the tiny lot, which is a blessing. She’s parked as far to the right as she can be, the view into the passenger side blocked by shrubs and trees. But I can see right through the driver’s side window.
Her hand is beneath her shirt, pinching her nipple as she throws her head back against the headrest. A second delayed, I hear the moan she releases through those parted lips. I cut the engine and push the seat back, stretching my legs and palming my cock through gym shorts, watching her through the windows.
She’s so fucking beautiful, skin flushed from our training and desire. I want to pull her bottom lip between my teeth so badly I can taste the tinge of copper, a memory from the last time I bit her so hard I broke the skin. At the time, I worried I’d hurt her, that I’d crossed a line. She’d responded to my concern by slinking down my body and sinking her teeth into the skin at my hip until she tasted my blood, too.
I need her. Not through glass, not listening to her pleasure herself. I need to earn her moans and gasps, to own the orgasm I’m watching her work towards.
Ignoring the fact that my dick is tenting my shorts, I get out of my car. Clara’s so focused on her own activities, she doesn’t hear me make my way to the passenger side until I open the door.
She jumps in shock, which is so fucking cute it could kill me. I quickly close the door and slide my fingers into her hair at the nape of her neck, pulling her to kiss me over the console.
She’s as hungry as I am, her tongue and teeth battling mine as we devour one another. I tug at the roots of her hair, like she often does to me, and enjoy the pained little yelp she releases.
“Why did you stop?” I tease, covering the hand still pressed to her breast with my own. She shakes her head, like she can’t provide an answer, and I love how overwhelmed she is by this. It’s only fair, considering how she still occupies my every waking thought.
“Do you want me to finish this for you, Clara?” I ask, skating my hand down her torso to her waist. I press my palm against her pussy, covered by compression shorts, encouraging her to grind against my hand.
“Please,” she pleads, gripping my shoulder as she rolls her hips. I always love watching Clara, but there’s something special about these moments, where she’s so honest with her desire that it floors me.
“Go ahead, my love. Make yourself come on my hand,” I encourage, biting down on her lip like I imagined. She gives the pain back, sinking her sharp nails into my shoulders as she increases her rhythm. It feels so fucking good, having her under my skin, feeling her cunt soak through those shorts as she winds herself higher and higher.
“Just like that. Show me what I win for finding you.”
A smile breaks across her face as she tips over the edge, hips thrusting against my hand through every wave of her orgasm. I soak up each word she utters in blissful delirium, tucking the sound of my name on her lips into a special place in my memory.
I let her come back down to earth, kissing her collarbones and throat as she catches her breath. Eventually, she releases my shoulders, and I turn so she can drop a kiss at my temple.
“You found me,” she says, voice syrupy. I press a chaste kiss to her lips before starting the car.
“I told you, I always will,” I remind her, stretching out in the passenger seat as I stroke my dick through my shorts, drawing her attention. “Now take us home, Clara. I’m not anywhere near done with you.”
The fading flush from her climax brightens again, but she turns over her shoulder to look at the Hellcat.
“You’re going to leave that here?” she asks, and I raise the fob and lock the doors.
“Let them tow it. I’m not letting you out of my sight again,” I reply, pulling a Dodgers hat off the rearview mirror where the dash camera is installed. Her grin is infectious, and despite my need, the simple pleasure of being close to her keeps me satisfied the entire drive home.
Clara
When we get home, I have to push Deniz off me, demanding him to allow me a shower before whatever else he has planned. He says he doesn’t mind, he likes the way the salt tastes on my skin, but I literally refuse to fuck him still coated in workout sweat and grime. Especially when it’s clear he’s showered.
I make it quick though, my need barely abated by the orgasm in the car. It was incredible, like they all are with him, but I’ve been desperate for his cock inside me for hours now. Nothing else will take the edge off.
When I emerge from the shower, Deniz is sitting on my side of the bed, twisting my engagement ring between his fingers. I take it off a lot, not because I don’t enjoy wearing it—I’ve become really fond of the weight on my finger, actually—but because it feels too delicate to wear while I’m fighting. Or torturing. Or killing.
I move so I’m standing between his legs, holding my towel with one hand and placing the other against his chest. He slips the ring onto my finger, pressing his lips to it with reverence.
“It looks very good on you, you know that?” he asks, trailing kisses up my hand and arm. The softness is something new between us, but it feels unnervingly right. Like Deniz is the one person it’s safe to be soft around.
“Thank you,” I whisper, letting him toss the towel aside so he can kiss my collarbones, my breasts, my stomach. His hands are gentle, stroking my hips with light touches that almost tickle. I can’t help the sigh I release at the sensation.
“I love you,” he says into the skin of my shoulder, brushing tender kisses to a spot of purple earned during our sparring.
“I know. I love you, too.” I loop my arms over his shoulders and press my body to his, so his head is resting on my chest.
“Good,” he sighs, stroking his hands down my back until they rest low on my hips. “Because I’m about to fuck you like I don’t.”
I barely have time to react before he grips my ass and shifts me back so he can pull one of my nipples into his mouth. The contrast of gentle words and his sadistic mouth makes my blood simmer, my hands reaching for his hair. He grabs both my wrists with one hand immediately, holding them away from his body as he stares into my eyes.
“If we want to stop?” he asks, gaze serious.
“Red,” I reply easily, my body too eager for whatever requires this reminder. “And if we want to slow down?”
“Yellow,” he answers, a quick smile lifting the corners of his lips before he pulls my wrists down. Hard.
I buckle, and my pussy clenches at the sensation of being forced to my knees before him. He’s in only his boxers now, having removed the shorts while I was in the shower, and I’m at eye level with a cock that's pushing limits of the fabric constraining it.
He holds my hands above my head, looking down at me like I’m food he’s about to play with. His hungry perusal of my body, arched for him, tits thrust out, makes my skin hum with need.
“Take out my cock, Clara,” he orders, gripping my wrists hard when I try to move them. “Without your hands.”
My vision swims as I shift forward, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to his abdomen before I tug on his waistband with my teeth. It would be impossible to do without assistance, but Deniz helps shove his boxers down until his cock is freed. I lick the head, tasting salt and skin, savoring the way he clenches his jaw and readjusts his grip on my wrists.
“I’m going to let go of your hands, but only because I need to hold your hair back when I fuck your throat, yes?” he asks, and his tone would seem condescending if I didn’t know better. I like knowing all the ways he’s going to fuck me. I like the anticipation of knowing there’s more coming, that he’s thought this through, that he knows exactly how he wants me. Even on my knees with my hands bound, there’s a power in knowing how much I consume his thoughts.
I nod, and he releases my hands, the blood flowing back to my fingers making them prickle. I barely feel it, though, because he’s got my hair wrapped around his fist in an instant, his other hand gripping my jaw.
“Open for me baby, and if you’re good, I promise I’ll make you come.”
I don’t have a single urge to fight him, opening my mouth immediately and letting him fuck my mouth. We don’t do this often—in Deniz’s words, he’d much rather give than receive—but every time we do, it sets my nerve endings alight. I force myself to breathe through my nose, repressing any gag reflex as he hits the back of my throat, his fingers tight in my hair. His eyes unmoving from mine as he uses his hold on my head to pull out to the tip and thrust back in.
I flatten my tongue against the bottom of his shaft, growing wetter and wetter at the way his face contorts in pleasure when my tongue strokes the underside of the head of his cock.
He lasts a few more minutes before he’s pulling me off my knees by my hair, crashing his mouth to mine. I straddle him on the bed, grinding my soaked pussy against his cock, desperate to have him fuck me ruthlessly like I know he wants to.
“Your mouth is too perfect, Clara,” he pants as he rolls me onto my back, my head hitting the pillow softly. Bites and kisses trail down my throat, past its hollow, between the valley of my breasts, until Deniz is sucking on my clit. The direct pleasure is so sudden that I cry out, gripping the pillows as he licks and sucks.
“Too good,” he repeats, rising to his knees, the lower half of his face glistening with my arousal. Everything feels so good and not enough, hips lifting off the bed, seeking out what only he can give me. But Deniz takes his time, drifting his gaze down every inch of me before pushing my thighs up so I’m splayed wide for him.
“Hold yourself open for me,” he demands, leading my hands to grasp my thighs right beneath my knees, so I’m completely exposed. He strokes his cock lazily as he surveys me. I writhe under the attention, my body so fucking desperate for him, it’s cruel.
“Deniz…” I whine, and the sound would be pathetic if I hadn’t heard him whimper the same way for me. We need each other , always with this level of acuity.
“I know,” he says, lining his cock up with my entrance. “I need you, too.”
He thrusts into me, all the way to the hilt. The way I’m holding myself open for him, allowing him deeper than he’s ever been before, brings me closer to that line between pain and pleasure. He pulls out and thrusts back in, and I shut my eyes against the sensation, overcome with the feeling.
My eyes shoot open when I feel Deniz’s hand against my throat, pressing gently on the sides of my neck. He’s holding himself over my body with his other arm, braced against the bed. We’ve talked about this before, laid in bed and practiced the technique, mostly so I didn't fall into practiced, less sensual habits.
I never thought it would feel this good to have my life in his hands. He presses slightly harder against the sides of my throat and my brain starts to lose a little oxygen. My vision grows hazy at the edges, and the combination of the lightheadedness and the total lack of control makes me pull my legs open even further for him.
“That’s it, Clara. You keep your eyes on me when you come on my cock,” he demands, thrusts ruthless as he fucks me. All my nerves are strung too tight, my body like a live wire about to spark into flame.
Pleasure builds so quickly that, with Deniz’s hand around my throat, I can’t catch my breath. With every brutal thrust, filling my cunt to the precipice of pain each time, I get closer to an orgasm that feels like it’s going to break me.
“Let go, ????.”
As soon as he says the words, he releases my throat, and the rush of oxygen combined with my nickname on his tongue pushes me over the edge. Pleasure floods through my veins, blanking out every thought as I keep my eyes on Deniz. My nails cut crescent moons into my own thighs as my pussy grips his cock, this orgasm crashing over me continuously as he keeps up a merciless pace. Soon though, it’s too much for him too, and he presses his forehead to mine as he stills. He groans my name over and over as he fills my pussy. It takes what feels like hours to come down from the bliss, our chests pressed together as we breathe heavily in tandem, Deniz still holding himself up over me.
Eventually his body gives out, and he rolls onto his back, quickly pulling my sated frame to lie on top of him. The pressure of our bodies nestled together, my head tucked beneath his chin as we steady our breathing, is, as always, the most comforting thing I’ve ever felt. So much so that I drift off to the feeling of his fingers dusting over my arm. The sound of his heartbeat and murmured words in Turkish lull me into sleep, and I rest soundly in the arms of the man who will always find me. It feels like home.