Chapter 12
BLAIR
The weight of him pins me to the mattress, and I can’t breathe, can’t think…can only feel.
He’s fully clothed; his dark shirt is rough against my bare breasts, the hard line of his belt buckle is cold against my stomach, and the rough denim of his jeans scrapes my inner thighs. I’m completely naked beneath him, just as he commanded, and my skin is on fire everywhere we touch.
His cock is still buried deep inside me, thick and pulsing, stretching me so full I feel split open in the best and worst way. Every tiny shift of his hips sends sparks shooting up my spine, and I whimper without meaning to. It’s intensely overwhelming.
I just came, blindingly hard, but it still isn’t enough.
My body feels greedy, clenching around him, trying to pull him deeper even though there’s nowhere left to go.
My legs are wrapped around his waist, my heels digging into the small of his back, urging him to move again.
I need friction. I need more. I need him.
His face hovers inches above mine, those dark eyes burning through the slits.
I can hear his breathing, rough yet measured at the same time; feel the heat of it through the mask.
He smells of salt air and something darker, like leather, mixed with clean masculine sweat.
My hands slide up his shoulders, clutching at the fabric of his shirt, trying to drag him desperately closer.
“Please,” I whisper, my voice cracking. “Take it off. All of it.”
I want skin. I want to feel his chest against my breasts, his stomach against mine, the slide of muscle under my palms. I want to see his face, to know who’s inside me, who’s claiming me like this.
My fingers tug at the hem of his shirt, trying to pull it up, but he catches my wrists in one big hand and pins them above my head.
“Not yet,” he says, low and rough, the words vibrating through the mask straight into my bones.
I hear myself whine like some needy animal as my hips rock up against him involuntarily, grinding and chasing the pressure.
He’s so hot against me, so solid, and I’m completely exposed, with nothing to hide behind.
The contrast makes me dizzy: him clothed and in control; me stripped bare and begging.
“Please,” I try again, arching my back so my nipples drag against his shirt. “I want to see you. I want to feel you.”
He shifts his hips just enough to make me gasp, a slow drag that lights every nerve ending on fire. “You’ll see me when I decide you’ve earned it.”
His free hand slides down my side, possessively brushing his thumb over the underside of my breast, then lower, over my ribs, my waist and the flare of my hip. Everywhere he touches feels branded. My thighs tremble around him as my inner muscles flutter helplessly.
“If this is what you really want,” he continues, his voice dark and controlled, “you sleep naked every night, with the door open and the blanket off. You offer yourself as you did tonight. Or you’ll be kicked out by morning.”
The threat lands like ice water and liquid heat at the same time. He knows. He knows I’m squatting here and I have nowhere else to go. My stomach flips, shame and arousal twisting together.
“You…you know I’m not supposed to be here,” I breathe.
“I know everything, Blair.” His thumb traces my lower lip, and I part for him without thinking, my tongue brushing the salt of his skin. “I know your father had plans for you, and I know he’s cut you off. I know you ran here because you had nowhere else to go.”
Tears prick my eyes—humiliation, fear, something else I can’t name. He knows my weakest points, and he’s using them. But even as the shame burns, my body betrays me, clenching around his cock again, slicker than ever.
“I know you’ve been lonely,” he murmurs, leaning closer until the mask brushes my cheek. “I know you’ve been waiting for someone to want you badly enough to take you.”
A broken sound escapes me because he’s right. God, he’s right.
I nod frantically, my wrists still trapped in his grip. “Yes. Please. I’ll do it. I’ll sleep naked every night. Just…don’t stop.”
He rewards me with a slow, deep thrust that makes my vision spark white at the edges. I cry out, arching towards him as my back bows off the bed.
“Good girl.”
The praise undoes me, and I can’t help but tighten my legs around him, trying to keep him deep.
He starts moving again in long, measured strokes that drag over every sensitive spot inside me.
It’s too much and not enough at once, and I hear myself babbling, the words spilling out without permission.
“I’ve never—” I gasp as he hits that perfect angle again. “I’ve never done this before. I’m…oh God…I’m a virgin. Was a virgin.”
He stills for a heartbeat, buried to the hilt. I feel him throb inside me, feel the way his grip tightens on my wrists.
“Christ,” he growls, the word raw and sharp. “Your father wanted you to save yourself…for his deal?”
“Yes,” I whimper.
Something dark and possessive flashes in his eyes. He releases my wrists, both hands sliding down to grip my hips, tilting me exactly how he wants. Then he starts fucking me in earnest with deep, relentless strokes that make the headboard thump against the wall.
The pleasure is overwhelming, building fast and sharp. I’m dripping around him, the sounds of sex filling the quiet room. My hands move over him, clawing at his shirt, trying to pull it up again, desperate for skin.
“Take it off,” I beg. “Please, I need to feel you.”
“Not yet.”
He leans down and scrapes the mask over the sensitive spot below my ear. I can feel his hot breath and can’t help but arch into him, moaning loudly with no shame left.
My mind is spinning with everything. My body is over sensitized and the reality of what I’ve done comes crashing down around me.
“What about—” I pant, trying to hold on to coherent thought as he drives into me again and again. “What about protection? I’m not…I’m not on anything.”
He laughs, low and dangerous, the sound vibrating against my throat.
“What did you think I meant when I said you were mine?” he says as he thrusts harder. “This tight little virgin cunt belongs to me now, sweetheart.”
The dirty words send me spiraling closer to the edge, and I know I should be terrified. I should be fighting. Instead, I’m clinging to him, meeting every thrust, my inner walls fluttering wildly around him.
“But—” I try again, voice breaking on a moan. “What if—”
“Then you’ll carry the proof that you’re mine,” he says against my skin with terrifying certainty. “Every day you’ll remember who took you first. Who owns you now.”
Who owns you now.
That was everything I was trying to get away from. My father’s deal, the arranged marriage. But somehow with him…whoever he is, the raw possessiveness is almost a comfort.
The thought sends me flying over the edge and I come hard, crying out, my body convulsing around him, milking him in desperate pulses. He groans, his hips stuttering, and I feel him swell, feel the hot rush as he comes deep inside me, filling me exactly like he promised.
We stay locked together, both breathing hard, as sweat cools on my skin while his clothes are still warm against me. I’m trembling, the aftershocks rippling through me every time he shifts. He’s still half-hard inside me, and I want more already. I want everything.
My hands slide up to the edge of the mask, my fingers shaking as they brush the leather.
“Please,” I whisper one last time. “Let me see you.”
He catches my wrists again, gentler this time, but firm. “Not yet.”
Slowly, he begins to pull out, and I whimper at the loss, feeling empty and used and perfect. Cool air hits where he was, and I feel his come start to slip out of me, warm and intimate down my thighs.
He stands, tucking himself away, and simply adjusts his clothes as if nothing happened. I lie there, naked and wrecked, with my chest heaving, staring up at him.
“Every night,” he reminds me, his voice steady and measured. “Naked and waiting for me. Or you’re gone.”
I nod, too overwhelmed to speak, and he turns to leave but pauses at the door, looking back. Moonlight outlines his broad shoulders, leaving the mask a black void.
“You did so well for your first time, sweetheart. Next time we’ll take longer.”
And then he’s gone, closing the door softly behind him. Dumbstruck, I lie there panting and confused, and aching for more.
I touch myself once…just to feel how swollen and sensitive I am, how full of him I still feel…and come again instantly with a broken cry.
Tomorrow night I’ll be naked, and probably every night after that too, because I don’t want to be anywhere else. I don’t want to be anyone else’s. I just want him, my masked man, merciless and mine.