Chapter 14 Gabe
GABE
Morning light filters through the half-drawn curtains, painting golden streaks across Amelia’s naked body.
She’s sprawled across my sheets, one arm flung overhead, her rose gold hair a chaotic halo against the pillow.
My tie still dangles from the headboard—a reminder of how I bound her wrists last night while I devoured her again.
I trace my gaze over the map of marks I’ve left on her skin. Fingerprints on her hips. Teeth impressions on her inner thigh. A constellation of bruises blooming along her throat. She looks thoroughly claimed, thoroughly fucked—exactly as I intended.
Last night, after our bath, I took her in ways I’d only fantasized about.
Against the windows first, her perfect tits pressed against the glass while I watched her face in the reflection, forcing her to watch herself come undone as the city lights twinkled below us.
Anyone looking up could have seen her—my beautiful, filthy girl on display.
In the shower, I discovered her love for pain when I brought my hand down hard on her ass. Each slap made her moan louder, push back harder against me. By the time I was finished, her skin was bright red and hot to the touch, and she came so hard her legs nearly gave out.
And finally, in my bed, with her wrists secured above her head, I used my mouth between her thighs until she was babbling nonsense, begging incoherently, her body arching off the mattress as she came against my tongue.
She pushed me further than I expected to go. The way she surrendered—so completely, so trustingly—made me want to break her apart and put her back together. I wanted to show her everything inside me, even the darkest parts. Especially those.
She stirs now, stretching like a cat, wincing slightly as she becomes aware of the pleasant soreness I’ve left her with. Her eyes flutter open, finding mine immediately. No morning-after regret present—just lazy satisfaction and a hint of hunger that tells me she’s not done with me yet.
“Morning, beautiful,” I say, watching her eyes travel over my naked body.
The sheet has fallen away, and I make no move to cover myself. My cock is already hard, has been since I woke up watching her sleep. There’s something beautiful about it—this woman in my bed, marked by me, waking to find me ready for her again.
Amelia’s gaze slides down my chest, past my stomach, until it lands on my erection. A soft moan escapes her lips—not theatrical or performative, but genuine appreciation. Her pupils dilate slightly, and I catch the quickening of her breath.
I tilt my head, enjoying the hunger in her eyes. “See something you like?”
She nods, her tongue darting out to wet her bottom lip. “Mm. Wouldn’t mind having it for breakfast.”
The words send heat pulsing through me. Last night I discovered Amelia’s filthy mouth, how readily she begs when pushed to the edge. This morning, I intend to put that mouth to better use.
“I’ll happily shove it down your throat,” I growl, my voice rough with desire.
The crude promise makes her eyes flash—not with offense, but with excitement.
She rises onto her hands and knees and crawls toward me across the rumpled sheets.
Her strawberry blonde hair falls forward, partially obscuring her face, but I can still see the challenge in her eyes as she moves toward me with deliberate slowness.
Each movement of her body is an invitation—breasts swaying, back arched, her eyes never leaving mine. The bruises I left on her thighs and throat from last night have darkened, marking her as mine. The sight of them intensifies my arousal.
She’s playing with fire, teasing me with this slow approach. She has no idea what I’m capable of—what I’ve done to people who meant nothing to me. Yet here she is, crawling toward the monster, completely unaware of the predator she’s provoking.
When she finally reaches me, I grab her chin firmly, tilting her face up to meet mine.
“Open your mouth,” I command, my voice low and dangerous. “I want to feel those pretty lips wrapped around my cock. Now.”
Without hesitation, she lowers herself, tongue darting out to trace the head before taking me into her wet mouth.
“Fuck,” I hiss through clenched teeth as pleasure rockets through me.
She’s eager, working her tongue along the underside as she takes me deeper with each bob of her head. Her enthusiasm is intoxicating—the way she moans around my length, the hungry sounds she makes as if she’s starving for me.
I let her set her own pace for a moment, watching her hair sway with each movement, but the sight of her servicing me so willingly stirs the beast. I gather her wild hair in my fist, wrapping it tight around my hand until I control her movements completely.
“That’s it,” I growl, guiding her head, setting a rhythm that suits me. “Take it deeper.”
She moans around me, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure up my spine. Her hand snakes between her own legs, fingers finding her pussy, still slick and swollen from last night.
“Look at you, touching yourself while you suck my cock,” I say, tightening my grip on her hair. “You fucking love this, don’t you? Love being used like this?”
Her eyes roll up to meet mine, glazed with arousal as she nods, unable to speak with her mouth full. The sight of her pleasuring herself while servicing me nearly pushes me over the edge.
“Take it all,” I demand, pushing her head down until my cock hits the back of her throat. “Show me how much you want it.”
To my surprise, she relaxes her throat and takes me completely, her nose pressing against my stomach. Her fingers work faster between her legs, her moaning intensifying around me as she takes me deeper than I expected she could.
“Fuck,” I swear, my voice strangled as she takes me to the root. “You’re fucking perfect. No gag reflex at all.”
Her eyes water, but she doesn’t pull back. Instead, she hums around my length, sending vibrations shooting through my cock.
I tug her hair sharply, pulling her off me for a moment so I can see her face. Her lips are swollen, a string of saliva connecting her mouth to my cock. She looks utterly debauched and entirely mine.
“That throat of yours is perfect to fuck and use,” I growl, watching her chest rise and fall rapidly. “Just like all your other holes I’m going to use.”
I press my thumb against her bottom lip, feeling the softness there, the wetness from her mouth.
“I’ve had your pussy,” I continue, my voice rough with desire. “And now your mouth.” I pause, watching her reaction as I add, “Next will be your ass.”
A deep, needy moan escapes her throat at that. Her fingers move faster between her legs, her hips rocking against her hand as my words affect her more powerfully than I expected. The sound of her pleasure at the thought of me taking her ass makes my cock throb.
“You fucking want that, don’t you?” I demand, still holding her hair tightly in my fist. “Tell me.”
“I want that,” she pants, her voice raspy from taking me so deep. “I want you to claim every part of me, every hole. I want to be yours completely.” Her fingers still work between her legs, her thighs trembling. “Use me however you want.”
The way she’s offering herself to me—so completely, so desperately—makes that dark and possessive side of me unfurl.
“You’re fucking perfect,” I growl, grabbing her hair again and guiding her face back toward my cock. “So eager to be filled and used. Open that pretty mouth again.”
She parts her lips instantly, her tongue darting out to wet them before taking me inside. I guide her head now, controlling the pace as I thrust into her mouth.
“I’m going to cum down your throat,” I tell her, my voice rough. “And you’re going to swallow every fucking drop.”
Her moan vibrates around my length as she quickens her movements, taking me deeper with each bob of her head. Her eyes lock with mine—hungry, eager to please. It’s the most beautiful surrender I’ve ever seen.
Heat builds at the base of my spine as her throat constricts around me. My grip on her hair tightens, holding her in place as I feel myself reaching the edge.
“Swallow every last drop,” I command as my release hits me like a freight train.
She relaxes her throat completely, taking me to the root as I explode.
I watch her throat work as she swallows, her eyes never leaving mine as she plays with her clit at the same time and then makes a guttural sound as her orgasm hits her.
Not a hint of hesitation or disgust—just pure, hungry submission.
I collapse beside Amelia, both of us breathing hard, skin slick with sweat.
Her hair sticks to her forehead, and there’s a flush across her chest that makes my spent cock twitch with renewed interest. For a moment, we just lie there, her hand resting on my chest, my fingers tracing the marks I’ve left on her throat.
“I want to see you again tonight,” I say, breaking the comfortable silence between us. It’s not a question. The possessive hunger I feel for her hasn’t abated—if anything, it’s grown stronger.
Her lips curl into a satisfied smile, but I catch the flicker of hesitation in her eyes.
“I’d love that,” she says, propping herself up on one elbow. “But I must get to work. I’ve got a new series I need to start sketching today.”
“Work,” I repeat, letting my fingers trail down her spine. “Such a dedicated artist.”
She shivers under my touch. “Can I use your shower?”
I nod. “Help yourself.”
I watch her naked form as she climbs out of bed, admiring the way she moves—the slight wince as she feels the pleasant soreness between her legs, the unconscious grace in her steps despite the marks I’ve left all over her body.
While she showers, I select clothes for her from my closet—a crisp white button-down shirt that will hang loose on her smaller frame and a pair of drawstring linen pants that can be cinched tight enough to stay on her hips.
Not her usual artistic, bohemian style, but the thought of her wearing my clothes, carrying my scent with her all day, satisfies the beast within.
When she emerges, wrapped in a towel, droplets clinging to her skin, I hand her the outfit.
“Wear these,” I tell her, watching as she drops the towel to dress. “And be at The Blue Room by eight tonight.”
She raises an eyebrow at my tone, a hint of defiance flashing in those expressive eyes. “Is that an order?”
I move closer, backing her against the wall. My fingers wrap around her throat, applying just enough pressure to remind her of last night. “Yes. It’s an order.”
Her pupils dilate, her breath catching. “Then I’ll be there at eight.”