Epilogue 2
ASHER
Somewhere in Alaska.
She’s already trembling by the time I step back into the room.
Blindfolded. Wrists tied to the headboard. Legs cuffed wide to the corners of the bed I built with my own damn hands. She’s laid out for me—every inch bare, flushed, slick and desperate in the morning light bleeding through the frosted windows.
I made her wait.
Hours.
I wanted her needy. Mind fucked. I wanted her soaked from nothing but the wind howling outside and the sound of my voice echoing through her skull like a curse. And now?
Yeah. She’s fucking wrecked. Just how I wanted her.
Her chest is rising like she’s been running. Her thighs twitch every time the cuffs tug. The scarf over her eyes is damp with sweat. Her mouth’s parted in a breathy little whimper—my name spilling out like she’s praying I’ll finally put her out of her misery.
“Asher… please…”
I lean in the doorway a second longer, arms crossed, just watching her. Taking in the way her hips jerk. The way her whole body is strung so tight it’s like she might shatter from one fucking touch.
I’ve been hard for an hour. Could’ve had her the second she started moaning. But I like her like this.
Desperate. Dripping. Completely fucking helpless.
Mine.
All mine.
I move slowly, letting my boots hit the floor one heavy step at a time. She tries to track the sound, tilting her head, lifting her chin like she thinks she’ll get a hint of where I am. Lips trembling. Breath hitching.
“You begging again, sweet doe?” My voice drops low—dark and dangerous, just like she likes it.
She whimpers. “Yes.”
“I haven’t even touched you yet.”
“I know.”
Fuck, I love her like this—wrecked and waiting.
I strip in front of her, slow and quiet. No theatrics. Just peeling away every layer until the cold air bites at my skin and there’s nothing between us but tension and sweat and what I’m about to do to her.
Climbing onto the bed, I straddle her waist. One hand braces beside her head. The other trails down her body, barely grazing. Her ribs. Her stomach. The inside of her thighs. Every place that makes her twitch.
She bucks toward my touch, chasing contact. I give her nothing.
Not yet.
“You don’t know how long I’ve waited to break you like this,” I murmur, dropping my mouth to her ear. “Not just your body. I mean everything. Your rhythm. Your breath. That sharp little mouth of yours.”
Her lips part on a gasp. No words. Just a sound—raw and needy, caught in her throat.
I lean in closer. Let my breath fan across her skin. Then I flick my tongue over the shell of her ear, slow and filthy.
“I didn’t sleep last night,” I tell her, voice rough. “Laid awake beside you, planning exactly how I was gonna ruin you.”
She lets out a breathy moan when my fingers finally glide through the slick heat of her folds.
I don’t dip in. Just trace her, slow and deliberate, spreading the wetness across her swollen skin.
Two fingers move in lazy circles, teasing, never satisfying.
Watching her body react to the lightest touch is better than any fucking drug I’ve ever known.
“So wet,” I murmur, voice rough with restraint. “So fucking ready for me. And I haven’t even fucked that sweet cunt once today. You that needy, sweetheart?”
She nods, frantic. Barely coherent. “Yes. Yes, please—”
The second the words leave her mouth, I slap her pussy with a quick, open-handed strike. Not hard enough to hurt. Just enough to make her jolt and cry out, the sound sharp and beautiful.
“You don’t beg until I tell you to,” I growl, my hand still between her legs.
“I—I’m sorry—”
“No, you’re not,” I mutter, lowering my mouth to her belly. “You’re desperate. Filthy little thing.” I press a kiss just above her mound, slow and possessive, lips lingering like I’m branding her with my mouth. “I made you this way.”
She whimpers again. Her thighs strain against the cuffs. Her hands tug at the bindings above her head. She’s trembling now—tension winding tighter by the second—and I haven’t even started.
I shift lower, breath hot against her center.
Close enough she can feel it. I blow gently across her soaked folds, watching the way her hips buck at the sensation.
Then I drag my tongue up the full length of her slit, slow and reverent, like I’m savoring a fucking prayer.
A high pleasing moan breaks from her chest.
I stop.
Sit back on my heels. Wipe my mouth with the back of my hand while she pants beneath me, helpless, confused, aching.
“You didn’t think I’d let you come that easy, did you?”
She shakes her head slowly, like every part of her is too far gone to do anything else.
I press my palm to the center of her chest, grounding her.
The other slides between her thighs again, finding that slick little bundle of nerves and circling it with the pad of one finger.
Smooth, controlled. Unrelenting. I don’t speed up.
Don’t give her rhythm. Just keep the pressure steady, cruel in its precision. Over. And over. And over.
Her whole body starts to shake from how close I keep dragging her to it before ripping it away.
I edge her. Once. Twice. Then again. Each time I take her to the brink, just far enough for her to taste release.
Her voice gets weaker, more wrecked with every pass.
Her thighs jerk and clench around nothing.
Her chest rises in fast, shallow breaths, each one more ragged than the last. She's drenched in her own need, her entire body flushed, her hands trembling where they’re cuffed to the headboard.
I don’t give her a moment to breathe before I start again.
First, it's my fingers. Two deep inside her, slow and firm, curling just right until she starts to tighten. Then it’s my mouth, my tongue circling her clit while she writhes beneath me, already so far gone she can barely speak.
After that, I press my thigh between hers and let her grind on the muscle.
I just watch. Watch her chase it, helpless and ruined, knowing I won’t let her have it.
She’s not allowed to come yet. She knows it. I made that clear from the second I tied her down.
At one point I grab the hunting knife from the nightstand.
The handle’s been warming by the fire, smooth and hot.
I don’t hurt her. I never would. But I drag it through her slick folds and watch the way her hips buck at the contrast. Heat and steel.
The tease of danger in the safest hands she knows.
She moans from the sensation, loud and raw, like her body doesn’t know how to take any more.
She’s close. I feel it in the way her thighs lock up, the breath that catches sharp in her chest, the way her back arches off the bed like she’s trying to meet my mouth before I even give it to her.
That’s when I pull away.
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, let my breath ghost over her thighs, and watch her shake with the effort of holding it in.
I don’t need to say much. The silence between us speaks louder than any words could. She knows what I’m doing. She knows she’s being undone on purpose. Every nerve lit up. Every breath strained. Every muscle trembling because I haven’t given her what she wants.
She’s not just desperate. She’s feral.
When I finally crawl over her again, I see the tears soaking the blindfold.
Her cheeks are wet. Her lips are parted, dry from gasping, her whole body trembling from the build-up.
Her chest heaves like she’s run a marathon.
Her thighs are soaked, twitching, restless.
The cuffs creak with how hard she’s pulling at them, trying to hold on, and still, she waits.
She knows who she belongs to. She knows I own every inch of her. Her pleasure isn’t hers. It’s mine to give, and when I finally let her fall? I won’t stop there.
I’ll fuck her through it. Then again. And again. Until she forgets where she is, forgets her own name, forgets anything but me.
Because I don’t just want to break her.
I want to bury myself so deep inside her she never recovers.
Her body is slick with sweat and need. Her voice is hoarse from begging. Her legs shake so violently now that the cuffs rattle against the bed frame.
“Asher,” she sobs. “Please—please, I can’t—”
“You can.” I crawl over her, nose brushing hers. “Because you’re mine. Because I said so.”
Her lip quivers. “I’ll do anything. Please. I need to come—”
“I know you do, sweet doe.”
I kiss her. Hard. Possessive. Like I’m trying to brand her mouth with my tongue. She opens for me. Of course she does. She’s broken open and hollowed out and shaped to fit me now. All of her.
I line my cock up at her entrance. She’s dripping. Her entrance tightens, aching with need.
“You want me to fill you?” I rasp.
“Yes—God, yes—”
“Beg.”
Her voice breaks. “Please, Asher. Fuck me. Own me. I’m yours. I’ll always be yours.”
I slam into her.
All the way to the hilt.
Her scream splits the air. Her back bows. Her wrists strain against the cuffs.
“Fucking hell,” I groan. “You feel like heaven—tight—wet—perfect—mine.”
I don’t fuck her soft. I don’t fuck her sweet.
I pound into her like I’m trying to bury my name in her womb.
Her mouth falls open. Her body jerks. Every stroke punches a moan out of her lungs. Her cunt grips me like a vice, fluttering, desperate, drowning in pleasure.
“Say it,” I growl.
“Yours—”
“Say it again.”
“Yours—yours—always—”
I reach up and tear the blindfold off.
Her eyes meet mine.
Ruined. Worshipping. Unhinged.
“Come for me,” I snarl. “Now. Let go.”
She shatters.
It’s violent. Loud. Beautiful.
Her whole body convulses as she comes, soaking me, sobbing, babbling nonsense. I don’t stop. I fuck her through it. Deeper. Harder. Until I come with a roar, spilling into her, holding her still, branding her from the inside out.
Afterward, I collapse over her. Breathing rapidly. Shaking.
I kiss every mark I left on her skin.
Untie her wrists. Rub the red lines. Pull her into my lap like she’s made of something sacred.
Because she is.
“You did so good, sweet doe,” I murmur, kissing her temple. “So fucking good for me.”
She hums. Drowsy. Boneless. “You’re such a sick fuck.”
“You like it.”
“I love it.”
She leans her head on my shoulder. Her voice is barely a whisper. “Are we really gonna stay here forever?”
I stroke her hair. “There’s nothing for us out there. Just noise. This… this is home.”
She nods, and I know she believes me now.
We fall asleep like that. Tied to each other. Safe in our silence. The snow still falling outside. No one watching. No one left to take her.
Because she’s not just my girl.
She’s my fucking religion, and I’ll worship her until the day I die.