Chapter Eighteen #3
“What if I just give you the tip?” he asks against the shell of my ear. “Would that still be too much for you?”
My teeth grind. “It won’t be.” I try moving my hips to take more of him in, but he’s quick to stop me the second he sees me wince at the pain.
His grip moves from my wrist to my hip, holding me in place.
“Stop,” he commands, leaving no room for argument.
“If we do this, we do it my way. If you want this, you will listen to what I say. That’s the only way this is going to feel good for you.
And whether you want to believe it or not, that’s what I want most. For you to feel good.
For you to enjoy yourself. If you’re looking for a distraction, you can use me.
If you’re looking to forget everything you’re feeling for a few hours, then I’m right here, baby.
But I will not let you hurt yourself, and I sure as hell won’t let you keep lying. To me or yourself.”
The authority in his tone isn’t as cold as before. Neither is his expression nor the way his eyes pin me to my spot beneath him.
He wants to give me everything I’m asking for, but he doesn’t want to hurt me. He doesn’t want me to regret this.
Will I anyway?
Maybe.
But that’s a problem for tomorrow.
“Do you understand?” he asks, and I realize he won’t continue until I agree to his terms.
So, I nod. “I understand.”
“And you’ll be a good girl and do as I say?”
Once again, I nod.
He brushes hair away from my face, then traces my bottom lip with his finger. “I think you like being told what to do, don’t you? You like not having to be in control one hundred percent of the time.”
For a second, my brain falters. Because…is that true? I’m not sure that’s something I even realized myself. But when he puts it like that, he’s not wrong. It’s tiring having to have everything figured out. To be okay when you’re not. To have a logical next step planned.
I want a break from that reality; to give somebody else the reins, even for a little while.
“I…” I pause, blinking up at him as one of his hands begins toying with my nipple. It’s still sensitive, still hard, and yearning for his touch. “I do,” I realize, swallowing. “I’m tired of always having to figure everything out. I’m sick of always pretending—”
That I’m not hurting.
I don’t finish the sentence.
I don’t need to.
His mouth wraps around the opposite nipple and sucks hard before he says, “I get it, baby girl. I can give you that. You won’t have to think about a thing.”
Yes. God, yes.
The way he works his tongue and fingers over me eases the coiled muscles in my stomach until my legs open a fraction wider for him. He sinks into me, his cock moving another centimeter or two at best and stopping to let me adjust.
“There you go,” he praises against my breast. “You’re doing so good. Stretching so fucking good for me.”
I thread my fingers through his hair as his lips move away from my chest and up to my throat. He goes back to the same spot he’s kissed and bit and licked before, doing the same thing as his hands roam farther south.
I gasp when I feel his knuckles brush my clit, and I involuntarily jerk my hips and take him further.
“Tsk tsk,” he murmurs against me. “What did I say? No moving. Not until I tell you.”
A whiny noise comes from my throat that doesn’t sound like me at all.
“Maybe I should pull out,” he thinks aloud, his nose grazing the column of my throat as his mouth moves toward my ear. “Maybe I should get you off again. This time with my mouth. Make you ride my face until you’re flooding me. Get you good and wet and primed.”
I shake my head. “No. I want you like this.”
I claw at him as his movements over my nerves quicken until I feel that sensation build in the pit of my stomach again.
My fingernails drag along the corded muscles of his back, and he groans and moves forward, sinking into me a little farther.
I feel so full, but not full enough, and I know he’s barely in because I don’t feel his piercing yet.
“For fuck’s sake, you feel good.” He groans, pausing once again despite how badly I want him to keep going. “I could come just like this. Not even all the way inside you. You have no idea…”
His eyes focus on my mouth as his words trail off, like there’s so much more he wants to say but holds himself back.
Part of me wants to know, and the other, more logical side of me, is afraid to hear it.
“Would you let me?” he asks, moving out of me before pushing back in. He doesn’t go any further than before; he just repeats the movements. Careful not to thrust. Always aware of every breath, moan, and flinch that his movements create within me.
“Y-yes,” I admit, wrapping my arms tightly around his neck and squeezing as I allow my body to adjust to his thick cock. And that piercing…
God, that piercing.
“I bet you’d come again,” he murmurs, peppering kisses along my face. My forehead. My temple. The tip of my nose. One cheek, then the other. But never my mouth, and all while moving in and out of me.
Just the tip, and maybe half an inch more.
“I bet I could get you to come all over my cock just like this,” he continues, his mouth pressing a dangerously close kiss to mine. His lips land on the corner of mine, a breath away from sealing something between us.
But he keeps going, his mouth moving away to trail along my jaw. My throat. Back up to my ear. The path he creates leaves fire in its wake, overheating my naked body as he pumps in and pulls out.
“More,” I beg, unashamed of the need in my voice. My fingernails dig into his shoulder blades again as he moves over me. In me. “Please, Thomas. I need more.”
A knowing smirk curls his lips. “My girl is a needy little thing, isn’t she?”
My girl. I contract around him, my nipples getting harder at the sentiment that should most definitely not get me wet. But it does. Boy, does it ever.
And Thomas knows that.
He feels it. “You like that, don’t you? Being claimed? You don’t even need to answer. I can feel how you react to it.” He slips in deeper, and I can feel the piercing nudge me.
I tense for a moment at the idea of it going inside, but he’s quick to hush my worries with soothing praises and pets that have my leg muscles loosening and spreading even wider for him.
Just when I think it’s not possible for him to go in even deeper than he already is, he does. I gasp at the fullness—at the way I stretch around him. It’s painful, I won’t lie. Discomfort settles between my legs at the intrusion that’s so blunt that a voice in my head urges me to get it out.
But then he moves his hand between us, settling on my core to work the oversensitive nerve endings to get me to stop panicking.
“You can trust me,” he promises, his thumb working lazy circles around my clit.
“You can let go and let yourself enjoy what I’m giving you.
That’s it, sweetheart. I can feel you relaxing.
You’re—” A groan rips through him as he moves his hips forward and his piercing enters me.
And holy shit.
A pinch of pain fills me, but is quickly wiped away by the sensation of him hard there. He feels way too good—better than he should. Every time a shift brings me even the slightest bit of discomfort, he makes it up to me with his mouth and hands.
Until…
Until…
“Thomas,” I breathe out, feeling the telltale sign of tingles shooting down my spine.
“Are you going to be a good girl and come on my cock?” he asks, brushing hair out of my face and cupping my cheek. “Are you going to vice grip me? Answer me, Winter. Look at me.”
He gives me no choice but to look at him, and I lock eyes as I teeter on the edge of yet another orgasm that surely won’t happen. Not again. “I-I…” Too much. This is too much and not enough, somehow, at the same time.
“Say my name,” he demands. “Say my fucking name when you come. I need to see it on your lips.”
My eyes start rolling back as he keeps his pace, his piercing scraping against me in the best way possible. “T-Thomas. I’m going to—”
“Come,” he commands, and it’s like that’s all my body needs to let go.
To free my mind. Free my body. Free all those ill feelings woven around my soul that have been that way for over a decade.
Right now, it’s Thomas and me.
It’s two people who bear heavy secrets.
I may not know nearly as many as his as he does mine, but I can see them in his eyes. The demons that hold them back. All the reasons he lets the world rip him apart.
Just like I just did.
I judged him.
Used him for my benefit.
For this.
I’m no better than the people who are quick to assume who he is, when it’s obvious that there is so much more to Thomas Moskins than a pretty face and ruthless scowl. So much more than he allows people to believe.
It’s sad, and that sadness and guilt slowly begin to creep their way back in until he asks, “Are you on the pill?”
His cock is still sliding inside me, and I can see the urgency in his eyes as he scans my face.
I nod. “Yes.”
“Thank fuck,” he replies like it’s a prayer. “I need to come in you. I need you to fucking feel me, Winter. I need—”
I lock my legs around him and meet his eyes, not looking away. “Please” is the only thing I have to say before ecstasy takes over his face, and he pumps forward one more time and fills me.
The softness on his face, the warmth he radiates, isn’t what I expect at all. He cups my face, his hand gentle, his eyes a calm sea after a wild storm, and…smiles.
But the smile disappears, wavering once like he’s trying to hold on to the moment but realizing he can’t.
He pulls out, as slow and careful as possible, before moving away from me. His silence soaks into me, thickening the air around us. I don’t know what to say as I lie on the couch, letting the cool air caress my naked, sated body.
I watch as he disappears around the corner and listen to the water run. Then I see him come back with a washcloth, and confusion pinches my brows.
“What are you—?” I stop short when he makes quick work of cleaning me up. I suck in a breath as he brushes me, but his expression is blank. Lacking the lust that’s been there this whole time.
I hurt him.
“Thomas,” I whisper, putting my hand on his forearm to try to get his attention.
He won’t look up at me, but I see the way his teeth grind to hold back what he’s thinking.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him, voice hoarse.
His eyes close, and I feel the muscles in his forearm flex. Then he withdraws, the washcloth with blood and cum on it disappearing with him down the hall to my tiny bathroom.
When he comes back, he collects his clothes and changes without saying another word.
“Thomas,” I repeat, voice weak.
He heads to the door, hesitating with his hand around the doorknob. “I’m sorry for what Ashton’s brother did to your parents. And I am sorry for how deeply you’re hurt. I know what that’s like.”
Because of his family? “Then tell me,” I plead, sitting up and wincing at the pain between my legs. “Talk to me about it. Help me understand. Give me another secret.”
When he looks over his shoulder, there’s something dark shadowing his features. “Why?” he questions blandly. “I’m just a man whore. What are my problems and feelings to you?”
His words slice into me, and I have nothing to say before he’s out the door and shutting it behind him.
I close my eyes and feel my lips waver into a watery frown. But no tears come, because I have none left to spill.
I know then that I messed up big time.
Because if this were something casual between us, I wouldn’t feel bad at all. I would have accepted what he’d given me and walked away from the rest.
But I don’t do that.
I can’t, I realize.
And it scares me on a whole new level.