5. Chapter 5 #2
“Tate, please.” She’s sobbing, her whole body shaking. “I can’t take it. Please let me come. I need it. I need—”
“What do you need, baby girl?” I look up at her, my chin slick from her pussy. “Use your words.”
“I need to come on your face.” The words tumble out desperate and shameless. “Please. I’m begging you. I’ll do anything.”
“Anything?”
“Anything. Just please—”
I shove two fingers inside her and suck her clit into my mouth.
She screams. Her pussy clamps down on my fingers and her thighs lock around my head, and she comes so hard her whole body convulses. I feel it everywhere—the way her fingers grip my hair, the way her clit pulses against my tongue.
I don’t stop. I keep licking, keep fucking her with my fingers, drawing out every tremor until she’s pushing at my shoulders.
“It’s too much.” She can barely speak. “I can’t—”
I pull back and look up at her. She’s flushed from chest to cheeks, panting, tears on her face, her body still twitching.
And I’m nowhere near done.
“That’s one.” I rise to my feet and crowd her against the wall, letting her feel how hard I am against her stomach. “How many more can you take?”
“I don’t know.”
“Let’s find out.”
I lift her, and she wraps her legs around my waist. The head of my cock slides through her wetness, nudging against her entrance.
“Look at me.” I grip her jaw. “I want you looking at me when I fuck you. From now on, when you close your eyes, my face is the one you’re going to see.”
Her gray eyes lock onto mine.
I thrust into her in one hard stroke, burying myself to the hilt.
She cries out, her nails digging into my shoulders hard enough to break skin. I hold still, feeling her tight heat squeeze around me.
“Fuck.” I press my forehead against hers. “You feel fucking incredible. Like this pussy was made for my cock.”
“Move.” She rocks her hips, clenching around me. “Please, Tate. I need you to move.”
“Tell me whose pussy this is first.”
Her eyes flash. “Yours.”
“Say it again. Say ‘this is your pussy, Tate.’”
“This is your pussy, Tate.” Her voice is wrecked. “It’s yours. Only yours. Now please fucking move.”
I pull out until just the tip is inside—then slam back in so hard she screams.
“That’s goddamn right.” I set a brutal pace, pounding into her against the shower wall. “This tight little pussy belongs to me. And I’m going to fuck away all the things you want to forget, baby girl.”
The bathroom fills with the sound of skin on skin from how hard I am fucking her, her moans bouncing off the marble. I grip her ass hard enough to bruise and fuck her like I’m trying to break us both.
“Do you feel that?” I grunt against her ear. “This is what it feels like when a man needs you so much he’s willing to fucking die for you.”
It’s true. That still may happen. I like to think that I’m good at what I do, but it comes with risks. And we have a lot of dangerous men to deal with. But I’m still the most dangerous of them all.
“Tate.” She’s crying, but she’s meeting every thrust, grinding against me, taking everything I give her. “I need you. Please don’t stop.”
“When you close your eyes—” I thrust deep. “Whose face do you see?”
“Yours.”
“When you feel hands on your body—” I pound into her as hard as I can. “Whose hands?”
“Yours. Only—”
She freezes.
I feel it—the way her body goes rigid, the way her eyes go distant. She’s not here anymore. She’s somewhere else, somewhere dark.
“Reese.” I stop moving, cupping her face. “Look at me. Stay with me.”
“I’m sorry.” Her voice is small. “I don’t know why—I was fine and then I saw—”
“Don’t fucking apologize.” I hold her gaze, keeping myself buried inside her. “Tell me what you saw.”
“A different face.” She squeezes her eyes shut. “Just for a second. A bad one.”
“Open your eyes.”
She does. They’re wet with tears and shame. “I’m sorry.”
I never want to hear her apologize to me ever again.
“Who do you see right now?”
“You.”
“That’s right, baby girl. Me.” I flex my hips, grinding deep, and watch her breath hitch. “I’m the one inside you. I’m the one that wants you exactly as you are.”
“Tate—”
“I’m going to fuck that memory right out of your head.” I pull back and thrust hard. “Every time his face tries to show up, I want you to feel my cock and remember who you belong to.”
I start moving again. Not brutal this time, but with slow, hard thrusts. I angle myself to hit that spot inside her, and I watch her face as the pleasure starts to override the panic.
“That’s it.” I keep my eyes on hers. “Stay with me, baby girl. Feel me.”
“Only you.” Her nails dig into my back. “I can only feel you.”
“Who’s inside this pussy right now?”
“You are.”
“Whose cock is stretching you open?”
“Yours.” Her voice is getting stronger. “Your cock. Only yours.”
“That’s my girl.” I thrust harder, and she moans. “Now I want you to come again. And this time, I want you to scream my name so loud it drowns out every other voice in your head.”
“I don’t know if I can—”
“You can. Look at me.” I reach between us and find her clit, rubbing tight circles while I fuck her. “You’re going to come on my cock, and the only thing you’ll see is my face. The only thing you’ll feel is me. The only name you’ll remember is mine.”
She’s climbing. I feel it. Her pussy getting tighter, her breathing more ragged, her moans higher. Her eyes stay locked on mine like I’m the only thing keeping her here.
“Just keep looking at me, baby girl.” I pound into her. “I’ve got you. Come for me.”
“Tate—” Her whole body starts to shake.
“Say my name when you come.”
She shatters.
“Tate!” She screams it loud enough to echo off every surface. Her pussy clamps down hard, her body convulsing, and her nails rake down my back so hard it stings.
But I’m still not fucking done.
I fuck her through it, not slowing down. She’s sobbing, completely overwhelmed, but she’s not telling me to stop. She’s pulling me closer, clutching at me like I’m the only solid thing in her world.
“One more.” I can feel my own release building. “Give me one more.”
“I can’t—”
“You can.” I grip her throat with just enough pressure to make her gasp. “One more. Come with me.”
She makes a sound that’s half sob, half moan, but then her grip is tight on my shoulders again. Our eyes meet again and hers are not dazed anymore. They’re fierce and possessive.
“You’re mine, too.” Her voice is raw but strong. “You keep saying I’m yours. That this pussy belongs to you. But it goes both ways.” She clenches around my cock, deliberately. “This cock is mine. You are mine. I’m not just some broken thing you’re claiming. I fucking claim you, too.”
I stare at her.
I’ve fucked countless women. I’ve dominated them, possessed them, made them beg. But not one of them has ever thought they could claim me.
I’ve never belonged to anyone. I never fucking wanted to.
Until now.
“Say that again.”
“You’re mine.” She grabs my face with both hands. “I know this isn’t what you planned. But I don’t care. You’re mine, Tate Sinclair. And I’m not giving you back.”
“Yes, baby girl.” The word scrapes out of my throat. “I’m fucking yours.”
“Then come inside me.” She tightens her legs around my waist, pulling me deeper. “I want to know I’m yours and you’re mine.”
All control disappears. I fuck her like a man possessed, like I’m trying to get inside her and never come out. She matches me thrust for thrust, her back braced against the shower. She sinks her teeth into my shoulder, breaking the skin.
We’re not just fucking. We’re claiming and marking each other.
“Come with me.” I’m right on the edge. “I want to feel you come while I fill this pussy.”
“Tate—”
“Now.” I bury myself deep and grind against her clit. “Come on my cock right now.”
She falls apart with my name on her lips, and I follow. I bury myself as deep as I can and empty inside her, groaning against her neck as her pussy pulses around me.
For a long time, neither of us moves.
I keep her pinned against the wall, still inside her, both of us gasping. The hot water continues to spray us, and I can feel my cum starting to leak out around my cock. Something primal in me likes it. Likes marking her from the inside.
“Jesus Christ.” Her voice is destroyed.
“Yeah.” I press my forehead against hers. “That fucking covers it.”
She laughs—actually laughs—and it does something to me. I don’t think I’ve ever heard her laugh like that. Like she’s happy.
“We should probably actually shower now.” She runs her fingers through my wet hair. “Since we’re in here and all.”
“Probably.”
But I don’t move. I’m not ready to pull out of her yet. She seems to understand, because she doesn’t push. She just stays wrapped around me, her fingers tracing the bite mark she left on my shoulder.
“Does it hurt?” She touches the wound.
“Yes.” I catch her hand and kiss her palm. “I fucking love it.”
“I’ve never claimed someone before, or left a mark.” She meets my eyes. “I’ve always been the one getting claimed and used. Everything was always taken from me. I’ve never wanted someone to be mine before.”
“You have every right to claim whatever the fuck you want.” I finally ease out of her and set her down, keeping my hands on her waist until her legs stop shaking. “Especially me.”
I grab the shampoo and turn her around.
“What are you doing?”
“Washing your hair.” I squeeze shampoo into my palm. “Hold still.”
She goes quiet, and I feel the tension drain out of her as my fingers work through her wet hair. When I’m done, I wash her entire body, starting with her shoulders and arms. Then I move to her tits—soft and heavy in my hands. Then it’s her stomach, her hips, and her thighs.
And I’m wondering where this version of myself came from. I’m not the man who washes a woman. But for this woman, I’d do a lot of shit to make sure she’s happy.
When we’re clean, I turn off the water and wrap her in the biggest towel I can find. I dry off and pull on my jeans, then find her some of my clothes—sweatpants and a t-shirt that swallows her whole.