37. Addy
Chapter thirty-seven
Addy
H e doesn't push me, but the air between us crackles with unspoken words and barely restrained desires. He watches me carefully, and I feel the weight of his attention like a physical touch.
"Chess," I start, but the words dissolve on my tongue as he reaches out, his fingers trailing up the sides of my body with deliberate slowness. I catch my breath, fighting the urge to lean into his touch.
"Tell me to stop, and I will," he says, his voice low.
It's all about consent, about wanting and being wanted, and despite everything, I can't bring myself to utter that simple command. His hands are warm against my skin, and I hate how much I crave the contact.
How do I keep allowing myself to be put in these situations?
"Addy?" he probes, searching my face for any sign of discomfort.
I shake my head ever so slightly, granting permission without words. There's a connection here, something raw and undeniable. I'm caught in his orbit, and for a moment, I allow myself to forget everything else.
"Okay then," Chess murmurs, his breath ghosting over my neck as his fingertips brush higher, drawing a shiver from deep within me.
The distance between hesitance and surrender is a breath, a heartbeat, a single decision. My back hits the cool surface of the wall, Chess's body pressing close, his gaze holding mine captive.
"Addy," he whispers, his voice rough with an edge that speaks of dark rooms and tangled sheets.
"Chess," I breathe out, my own voice betraying the storm beneath my skin.
In a swift movement, his hands find the hem of my dress, fingers deft as they hike the fabric up with purpose. The cool air of the secluded space kisses my thighs, heightening the anticipation coiling within me. His touch is fire; it sears through the thin barrier of my panties as he slips his fingers past the elastic edge. A gasp escapes me, involuntary, as he finds the evidence of my arousal, the undeniable truth of my desire soaked into the delicate fabric.
"Christ, Addy," Chess groans, the sound heavy with want. It vibrates against my senses, a primal call that sends shivers darting down my spine.
"Chess..." I clutch at his shoulders, grounding myself as his fingers explore, daring in their intimacy. Time seems to fracture, splintering into moments of sensation that leave me breathless. The world outside this hallway, with its expectations and watchful eyes, fades into insignificance.
"Is this what you want?" His question is a growl, laced with concern and an undercurrent of hope.
"Yes," I whisper, granting him not just permission but an invitation. He responds with a fervor that matches the pulse racing through my veins, a silent promise that echoes in the confines of our stolen privacy.
I can feel the heat of his breath against my cheek as he replies, "Fuck." His lips brush the corner of my mouth, and I know without question that he's ready to claim me, to possess me in a way that defies the boundaries of what's socially acceptable.
My eyes tangle with his, searching for the truth behind his unspoken question. His fingers are still against my skin, slowly brushing the damp fabric, and I can feel his breath against my ear as he whispers the words that lay bare my soul.
"Yes," I repeat.
As his rough, calloused fingers glide into my warm and slick folds, I gasp at the intrusion. My body immediately reacts, my back arching and my pussy clenching tightly around his fingers as pleasure washes over me.
I moan softly, my entire body trembling from the sheer intensity of the sensation. Chess's touch is both tender and aggressive, a perfect fusion of warmth and raw desire. Each caress, each stroke of his fingers against my sensitive flesh, heightens my arousal, driving me closer to a climax I know will rock me to my core.
With one hand still buried deep within me, he seizes my breast with the other, his fingers firm and demanding. My breath hitches as his thumb rubs over my nipple.
"Addy," he growls, his voice rough with need. "You feel so good, so warm and wet. Are you going to come for me, good girl?"
My heart is pounding in my chest, the anticipation and need driving me wild. I might be losing my mind.
No one has ever touched me like this. They take, take, take, until there's nothing left to give.
The heat of our desperation fills the hall, and I can feel his heartbeat pounding in sync with mine. I know this is wrong, but I'm powerless to stop him. Don't even want to.
I moan softly, a low, guttural sound that seems to fuel Chess's hunger. His fingers continue to explore my body with a masterful touch, delving deeper with each stroke. My hips begin to move in time with his, a dance as old as time itself.
I can feel the tension building within me, the desire coursing through my veins, and I know that the moment of truth is drawing near. I'm on the precipice of something I've never experienced before, something that could either consume me completely or leave me gasping for air.
Chess's lips find my collarbone, trailing fervently down my neck, his heat radiating against my skin. "You're so beautiful," he whispers, his breath hot against my skin.
"Fuck, I want all of you, Addy."
I whimper as his lips reach the swell of my breast, his warm breath caressing my sensitive skin. He softly bites down, and a shiver runs down my spine. I'm not used to this kind of intimacy, but with Chess, it feels right.
I'm lost in the firestorm of emotions and sensations. My body is aflame. He captures my cries with his lips and the world explodes into a kaleidoscope of color. My body tenses and releases as I fall over the edge.
Vibrant colors swirl around me, and for a moment, the world is a blur.
"Fuck," he breathes against my skin. "Fuck, Addy."
Chess slowly removes his fingers and raises them to his lips, eyes lingering on them a moment before slowly drawing them into his mouth. I watch as his eyes close and he lets out a low groan, savoring the taste of my arousal. A heat spreads through me at the sight.
The sharp click of high heels against the marble floor shatters the moment. My heart races and I quickly extricate myself from Chess's embrace, fleeing to the safety of the bathroom.
The water splashes cold against my clammy hands, but it does nothing to cool the flush creeping up my cheeks. Hesitatingly, I gaze into the mirror. The wanton woman staring back at me is a far cry from the meek little puppet I've always been.
When did I become this person?
I can hear muffled conversation on the other side of the door and I strain my ears to hear what's being said. But it's useless.
After a moment, I take a deep breath and smooth out my expression, carefully reconstructing my mask, before twisting the doorknob and stepping out of the room.
I feign surprise at the two of them waiting for me and keep my voice flat to give nothing away. "Oh, Mother, Chess. I apologize. I didn't realize anyone was waiting."
As Chess slips by me to enter the bathroom, I'm left alone with Cheryl. Her already sour expression twists into a snarl as she lunges forward and grabs a fistful of my hair, yanking me back. I bite down on my lip to muffle the scream that threatens to break free from my throat.
"Do you think me daft, Adelaide? I can smell him on you."
"I—I don't know what you're talking about, Mother."
"You know very well what I'm talking about," Cheryl sneers. "I've kept you in my house for years, trying to mold you into the perfect daughter, and now you go behind my back and ruin everything."
Her fingers tighten around my hair, and I can feel strands start to pull out. I struggle to keep my voice steady as I plead, "Please, Mother. I don't understand."
She doesn't release her grip, instead leaning in closer to me. Her eyes are wild and filled with malice. "You will stay away from the trash. Genevieve and Barrett are a necessary evil, but you will not tarnish the Winthrop name by fraternizing with those heathens they insist on bringing along. Do. You. Understand?" Spittle flies from her perfectly lined lips as she gives me a little shake with each word to punctuate just how serious she is.
"Of—of course, Mother. I wouldn't dream of damaging the Winthrop name."
She finally releases me, and I use my hands to pull the tangled hair back into place.
I will. I'll behave. I'll do my best to pretend everything is perfectly fine the same as I always have. But I will not be complacent in their abuse any longer. I can't wait till I'm eighteen.
I need to know if they're trustworthy. Everything rides on this.