Adeline
Icouldn’t move after Ciaran came inside me, so he untangled our bodies. Girls are supposed to like it when men whisper sweet little things, but I found it odd, him being nice.
I guess that’s indicative of how fucked up I am. Not expecting kindness.
But I was too distracted by the sensation of his cum dripping down my thighs. He grabbed my phone, already knowing my passcode, and texted the guards to pull my car around. Then he smoothed my dress down and wrapped his suit jacket around my shoulders.
When I pulled it tight, it only sort of hid the bloodstain blooming right at the crotch.
“Adeline.” He ran a hand down my back, soothingly. “Hey.”
I blinked up at him. He’s got these big brown eyes, but until that moment I don’t think he’s ever really looked at me. Rather just around me. Like at the restaurant when he kept eyeing the important businessman. When we first got here tonight, he’d scanned the room while talking to me.
For a second, in the dim light of the alcove, his warm eyes swim with worry.
“Adeline.”
I didn’t say anything.
He cupped my cheeks, pulling me in for a kiss. “Princess?”
“I really hate that nickname,” I told him, my lips brushing his.
He pulled away, his eyes hardening. He checked the hallway first and fidgeted with the sleeve of the jacket around my torso.
Either we got lucky on our way to the car, or I didn’t notice anyone. He opened the car door, and before I could argue, he drove us away.
I think I care more about him driving my car than the fact that his cock just tore into my cunt.
I add another tick mark, tallying all the ways I’m fucked up.
“Head inside,” he tells me when he parks along the curb. “I’ll make sure they get the keys.”
Marco’s followed us in a black SUV. A second guard will take my car away, back to my parent’s house. It’d been a random request in the first place, asking them to bring it out here just so I could treat myself to a drive.
Ciaran’s building buzzes with silence. I walk up five stories, pausing at his door. He’s there a second later, unlocking it.
“Adeline,” he calls after me.
The jacket around my shoulders drops to the ground. I head instinctively to the bathroom because while I might not be sexually active, I do know basic hygiene. I was supposed to pee right after sex, but that didn’t happen, and I’m not really interested in Ciaran watching me go.
He has no sense of privacy. He’s already in the doorway of the bathroom when I sink to the ground.
It’s a tiny space. The white tile cold beneath me. His bathmat is basic and boring, indicative of a guy living here.
“Adeline.”
The soft way he says my name tugs at me.
“I’m fine,” I murmur. I’d like to go to bed now.
He crouches behind me, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Let’s get you in the shower.”
I don’t move.
“You should always make sure whoever you’re with takes care of you.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Do what?”
“Give me life advice.” I chose to sleep with him.
“Still can’t stand being told what to do?”
“We’re both using each other.”
He shifts behind me. I imagine he’s frowning. But it’s the truth.
“You want access to my father.” I’d been so pissed at him earlier that I went and slept with a man I knew he’d hate.
My family had acted so strange this evening, though.
Mom had barely looked at me. Nat’s passive aggressiveness turned into shouting. Dad hadn’t been his normal, usual self.
People say change should make you uncomfortable, but I didn’t imagine it would be like this. A month ago, I’d daydreamed about my life in the city. Now I recognize nothing, not even myself.
I glance at my hands, trying to understand how my body belongs to my mind.
“What do you want?” Ciaran asks me.
For my family to take me seriously.
I know I’m my own worst enemy. That I’m being stubborn. That I want to prove to them that I know what I’m doing. That the man I’m dating is someone I picked for myself, rather than a man who simultaneously saved and trapped me in an alleyway.
There’s a glimmer of something else too, as I think about all the dismissive flicks anytime Ciaran appeared in my family’s eyeline.
They’re usually so much better than that, I want to tell him. Only I’m too busy trying to tell myself that as well.
“You’re mad that you keep getting outplayed, aren’t you?” Ciaran whispers, his chest brushing my back.
The muscles in my shoulders tighten.
“It was a good idea,” he says, “trying to flip the situation on its head. Get me as your ally.”
I wipe a tear from my face before he can see it.
“Partner,” I correct just for the hell of it.
His beard scrapes against my skin as he presses a kiss to my bare shoulder. “It almost worked.”
“Almost?” I ask, crumpled on the ground in a bloody ballgown.
“It just needs some finessing in the future.”
“I’m fairly certain you agreed to the terms when you stuck your cock inside me.”
His breath skates across my skin. “That was my favorite part of the agreement.”
I close my eyes.
“You know this hasn’t ended?”
My silence is an affirmation on its own.
“We’ll be good together, won’t we?” he says. I’m not sure who he’s asking.
For me, the only way forward is proving my family wrong. I must show them I can keep up with school, work, and Ciaran.
“Don’t forget about Wallen.” It’s the most important part of the deal.
He lets out a tired sigh, shifting behind me. “Are you sore?”
I shake my head.
“Adeline.”
“I’m fine.”
He unfastens the clasp at my neck, the halter straps of the dress falling. He takes off my shoes next. Bobby pins are plucked from my crushed chignon. “Come on.”
After he lifts me to my feet, the dress glides down my torso, and he pulls it down my thighs, the material falling to the ground. The nude thong I’m wearing isn’t worth trying to save.
Ciaran starts the shower. His wristwatch glints in the light, and he takes it off, oddly protective of the artifact.
“It’s warm now.” He motions for me to move forward.
“Why aren’t you naked?” My toes curl into the white porcelain. It’s a tiny shower stall, but he’s standing so close his button-down shirt is in peril.
“Do you want me to wash your hair?”
“With your two-in-one shampoo?” No, thank you.
He laughs, the hearty noise reverberating around the bathroom. “I’m not some fresher in uni. I’m a little bit more mature than that.”
“Why don’t you get naked?”
“Christ, woman, stop trying to get me naked.”
But I don’t like standing in the shower, the only one without clothes on. Hot water cascades over my back as I turn and begin unbuttoning Ciaran’s shirt.
He’s silent, his eyes thoughtful as he watches me work. I push the shirt off. He’s got on a dark undershirt. My fingers curl into the hem, pulling up.
A medley of tattoos fills his ribcage. I’d noticed the first night he kept me here, a sleeve on his right arm, but this is so much more. Most are black and white, and my fingers skim, tracing the illustrations, finding myself surprised yet unsurprised that he’s got artwork on his body.
My hands trail over his chest, down to his zipper.
In the dark alcove, with our clothes on, I’d seen little. My mouth dries as I take in his long, thick cock, and he’s not fully hard.
Ciaran takes my shoulders, turning me back around, making sure I stay warm under the water. I fall back into his chest, and he wraps his hands around my waist, holding me. His beard tickles my shoulder as his chin rests in the crook of my neck.
He grabs body wash, the scent of apples filling the bathroom. I remain lazy, leaning into him, while he massages small circles up and down my body. He washes every part. My shoulders, arms, his fingers light against my chest. He leans down, washing my legs.
When he stands back up, the soap suds wash down the drain, but he’s not done. His fingers are assured but gentle when they brush my pussy. I lift on my toes, sensitive.
“Do we need to get something?” he asks, his voice thick.
“I’m on the pill.”
I grab his hand when his fingers glide against my folds, one thrusting inside.
“I’m making sure you’re clean,” he murmurs. “Breathe.”
I do as he says, closing my eyes. Falling water fills my ears, and I lean back against him. I can’t help tensing as he touches me, but not out of fear or because I hurt.
I whimper, making a face when he removes his fingers.
“You’re going to be the fucking death of me,” he hisses under his breath.
I keep pouting.
Ciaran turns the shower off, wrapping me in a thick towel. A T-shirt goes over my head, and then I’m placed in the bed, in the same spot as last time because apparently I already have a side.
“Do you need some paracetamol?” he asks, confusing me. “Advil?”
“No.”
He settles into his pillows.
“Ciaran,” I whisper when he shifts under the sheets.
He lets out a sigh, like I’ve just asked for some sort of hardship. “Adeline.”
“Please.”
In one night, I’ve begged him twice.
Ciaran rolls, his body heat radiating over me. He slips a finger inside my pussy and my breath catches. In and out. My eyes flutter closed.
Before tonight, this is the furthest stage I’d ever gotten to with a boy, and it’s never felt like this. Ciaran is firm, his finger touching parts of my body I’ve never felt before. He adds another finger, his movements careful, making sure I’m okay.
His thumb softly traces my clit. Firmer and firmer his movements grow, yet I’m the softest I’ve ever been, floating on a wave before it crests, and I ride the aftershocks that glow.
“Look at me,” Ciaran orders, removing his fingers. I don’t know what mess he sees when he stares at me, but he pulls me in for a kiss. My legs open wider as if I needed further proof that I’m a lost cause.
But Ciaran’s kiss ends, and then he’s back on his side of the bed.
I lift slightly. “Do you need—”
“No. Go to bed.” His voice is quiet in the night, but stern.
“But—”
He plays with my hair like always, gently pushing me until I lie back. “Goodnight, Adeline Marie.”
“Goodnight, Ciaran.”