Chapter Six
Myles
She’s still trembling beneath me when I finally open my eyes. Her chest rises and falls in ragged breaths, her hair sticking to her flushed face, her lips swollen from my kisses.
I should pull out, give her space, but I can’t. Not yet. The feel of her wrapped around my cock, tight and warm, is burned into my skin. Into my soul.
My girl.
I drag a hand over her thigh, down the curve of her hip, memorizing every inch. She gave me something no man’s ever had. Her first time. Her trust. Her innocence. And fuck if it doesn’t make me feel ten feet tall.
And like the biggest bastard alive.
Because she hired me to protect her. From me.
What happens when she finds out the truth? That the roses, the shadow in her room, the footsteps she swore she heard…it was all me? Will she still look at me with those wide, trusting eyes? Or will she finally see me for what I am—obsessive, broken, the monster everyone else already sees?
“Penny for your thoughts?” she says, her voice cutting softly into my mind.
I snort, leaning down to brush my mouth against her ear. “I’d rather have your moans.”
She gasps, burying her face in my neck, and I grin. Teasing her is too easy. “Or maybe I’ll take another one of those sweet little cries you make when I touch you here…” My hand slides up to her breast, rolling her nipple between my fingers until she whimpers, arching into me.
“See?” I murmur, kissing the corner of her mouth. “Better than pennies.”
She swats at my chest weakly, but the blush creeping down her throat gives her away. She’s embarrassed as hell, but she wants it. And God, she makes me want to corrupt her in every way.
I nip at her jaw, voice dropping lower. “You should know something about me, Paris.”
Her lashes flutter as she looks up at me. “What?”
“I like control. I like it when a woman gives me everything—her trust, her body…lets me push her. Own her.” My thumb brushes over her lips, pressing lightly until she parts them for me. “I like being in charge.”
Her breath hitches, but there’s no fear in her eyes. Just curiosity. Hunger. “W-what does that mean?”
“I’m a Dom,” I say, watching her expression. “Would you like to be my sub?”
“I’ve never…” She swallows nervously. “But…I want to try. With you.”
The pride that swells in my chest nearly knocks the breath out of me. She doesn’t even know what those words do to me.
“Fearless little thing,” I murmur, brushing my knuckles over her cheek.
Her lips part, a small shiver running through her, and I know she felt the weight of the praise.
“Then we do this right,” I tell her firmly. “You tell me if it’s too much. And we’ll pick a safe word.”
“A safe word?” she repeats, brows arched curiously.
“Something you can say if you want me to stop. No questions, no hesitation. I stop the second you say it.”
She thinks for a moment, then smiles faintly. “Pumpkin. Since it’s Thanksgiving.”
I huff out a laugh, shaking my head, and I can’t stop the grin tugging at my mouth. “Pumpkin it is.”
Her lips are still swollen from our earlier kisses, but I take them again anyway, deep and rough, my tongue claiming her until she moans into my mouth. I fist her hair, holding her head where I want it, kissing her until she’s gasping against me.
When I pull back, I grip her jaw, forcing her to look at me. “You said you want this. You want me to take control?”
Her blue eyes are wide, dilated with desire. “Yes.”
“Good girl.”
She shivers, and I feel it all the way down my spine.
I shift us so she’s lying flat beneath me, her wrists pinned above her head by one hand. My other hand trails down, slow, deliberate, brushing her ribs, her waist, lower. She writhes, trying to follow my touch, but I hold her still.
“Patience,” I rasp. “I give. You take. That’s how this works.”
She nods quickly, breathless.
I smirk, leaning down to bite her lip before sliding my hand between her thighs. She’s already wet, slick and hot against my fingers. “Fuck, Paris…you’re dripping. Just from me pinning you down.”
Her blush spreads across her chest, but she doesn’t look away. Instead, she whispers, “Because I like it.”
My cock throbs at her honesty. I slide two fingers into her, curling them until she cries out, her hips arching helplessly. I thrust slowly, dragging the pleasure out, watching her face as she fights to keep control.
When I pull my fingers free, glistening with her moisture, I bring them to her mouth. “Open.”
Her lips part instantly, and I slide my fingers in. She sucks, eyes closing, and I groan, nearly undone at the sight.
“Good fucking girl,” I growl, yanking them free and crashing my mouth against hers again.
She gasps when I flip her over onto her stomach, tugging her hips up. My hand comes down hard on her ass, the sound sharp in the silence. She squeaks, twisting to look back at me.
“Too much?” I ask, my tone sharp but my gaze steady.
Her lips part, breathless. “N-no.”
“Safe word, Paris. Use it if you need to.”
She swallows, then shakes her head. “Pumpkin.” She says it softly, testing.
I stop immediately, my hand firm on her hip. “That’s your line?”
She nods. “I just…wanted to make sure.”
The pride that swells in me is almost unbearable. She’s fearless, testing me, testing us. I bend, kissing the back of her neck. “You did good. Always stop me if you need to. Understand?”
“Yes,” she whispers.
I spank her again, lighter this time, and she moans, her back arching. My cock twitches painfully at the sound.
“Christ, you’re perfect,” I mutter, dragging the tip of my cock through her slick folds. She whimpers, pushing back against me.
“You want it?” I demand, voice rough.
“Yes,” she gasps. “Please, Myles.”
That’s all I need. With one hard thrust, I push inside her, stretching her tight heat around me. She cries out, clinging to the sheets, and I grip her hips to keep from exploding instantly.
“You’re perfect,” I snarl, grinding deeper. “Every inch of you. Like you were made just for me.”
Her answering moan is pure surrender, and I fuck her harder, deeper, each thrust pulling more of those sweet cries from her throat. Her body bows, her nails scraping the sheets. I yank her hair, pulling gently until she’s got no choice but to hold my gaze.
“Do you like it, baby?” I ask, thrusting harder.
“Y-yes,” she whispers broken. “Please…”
The sight of her looking back at me in this position, wrecked and begging, nearly undoes me. Her hair’s a wild mess around her face, her lips parted, eyes glossy with tears and lust. My hands tighten on her hips, fingers digging into her soft flesh as I push deeper, harder, filling her completely.
“You’re so good for me,” I growl, my voice dark and rough in the quiet room. “Taking me so well…so tight.”
She moans, pressing her forehead to the sheets, her hips rolling back to meet every thrust. Her body’s trembling, but not from fear…she’s moving with me, opening for me, trusting me.
I slide my hand between her thighs, find her clit and rub slow circles as I drive into her. She gasps, arching under me, a cry spilling from her throat.
“Myles…”
The sound of my name like that, pleading, broken, snaps something in me. I bend over her, my chest pressed to her back, my mouth at her ear. “Come for me, Paris. Right now. Show me who you belong to.”
Her whole body tightens, clenching around me. “I—I—”
“Do it,” I snarl, circling her clit harder. “Now.”
She shatters. Her scream is muffled against the sheets as she convulses, her walls squeezing me like a fist. The feel of her coming around me, the heat, the tremors…it rips my control to pieces.
I thrust twice more, hard and deep, and then I’m gone, spilling into her with a guttural groan, my head falling to her shoulder. I let my hands roam her body, rubbing her perfectly round ass, her back, her hips, holding her through the aftershocks.
For a long time we stay like that, tangled and gasping. I press my forehead to the back of her neck, kissing the damp skin there, breathing her in. She smells like sweat and soap and sex, like something I could drown in.
Like mine.