Chapter 17 #2
He lifts his head, eyes wild and glassy, and before I can speak, his mouth crashes against mine. The kiss isn’t soft—it’s desperate, feral, like he’s trying to consume every breath I’ve ever taken without him.
“Fuck, Summer,” he growls against my lips, his voice breaking on the edge of rage and worship.
“I’m sorry I hurt you—but I had to keep you here.
Had to stop you from running.” His breath trembles, hot and uneven against my mouth.
“I can’t promise I won’t hurt you again…
but I see it in your eyes, sweetheart. You don’t want mercy—you want the monster. ”
His hands frame my face—rough, trembling, desperate. “I’ll give you everything,” he murmurs, his words a vow and a threat all at once. “Anything you want. It’s yours.” His gaze burns into mine, dark and unrelenting. “You’re mine, you hear me? Mine.”
Each word hits like a heartbeat—reckless, unrestrained, final.
“Fuck the past,” he rasps. “Fuck everything. We’re here now. You’re with me. That’s all that matters.”
We stay tangled there for what feels like forever, lost in the taste of each other and the sound of our ragged breaths. The forest floor crackles beneath us, leaves clinging to our skin as we roll together, the world narrowing until it’s only him—only us.
When he finally pulls back, his gaze holds mine with something fierce and unspoken.
Then, without a word, he slides his arms beneath me and lifts me from the ground.
My head falls against his chest, the steady pound of his heartbeat echoing through me.
The forest fades behind us, the light slipping through the trees in thin, fractured beams, and all I can hear is his uneven breathing as he carries me back—back to his home—our home.
He carries me through the doorway and up the stairs without slowing, the sound of his footsteps echoing through the empty house. In the bathroom, he sets me down only long enough to reach for the tap. Water bursts from the showerhead, steam filling the room like a rising fog.
We undress each other in a hurry, our hands clumsy and desperate, mouths finding one another in between every breath.
The heat from the water collides with the heat of our skin until everything feels the same—blinding, overwhelming.
I feel him hard against my stomach, heavy and hard, reaching higher than I thought possible—a physical reminder of just how big he is.
He steps back just enough to look at me, the water streaming down his face, his chest heaving. His fingers rake through his damp, ashen hair as his gaze drags over me—slow, searching, possessive.
He leans in to touch me, but I push him back. His eyes flicker—first with frustration, then shock, and finally that flicker of despair, like he thinks I’m rejecting him.
Little does he know what I’m thinking. I’m not pulling away to stop him—I’m doing it because I want to give him something I’ve never given anyone else.
Constance once told me about it, how to do it, how it felt. I’d always brushed it off, never thought it was something I’d want. Until now.
I drop to my knees before him, and his eyes darken, gleaming with a hunger so fierce it borders on worship. His hand comes down, fingers grazing my cheek as he steps closer, a low growl rumbling from his chest—deep enough to burn straight through me.
“I… I don’t know what I’m doing, but I want to give you this,” I pant, heat radiating between my thighs.
“I’ll guide you, baby,” he rasps.
His hand slides from my cheek into my hair, the other following to gather it, gripping just enough to make me shiver. He pulls it back, holding it like a makeshift ponytail, and steps even closer until the tip of him hovers inches from my mouth.
The shower roars above him, sending a cascade of heat down his back. Steam fills the small space, wrapping around us, warming my skin and drawing every nerve to attention.
I open my mouth, letting him slip inside.
The taste of salt is the first thing I notice, as I slide my tongue across the tip. He lets out a moan, a groan from deep within his soul. I look up to him, and he has his head tipped to the ceiling, still moaning.
“That’s it, baby, swirl your tongue just like that.” He groans as he pulls my head forward, forcing more of him into my mouth.
I suck gently, worried I’ll hurt him if I’m too rough. I continue to swirl my tongue around his length. When I glide it along the thick vein that runs from his shaft to his end, he lets out a husky moan, so I keep my tongue there, and swirl it faster.
“Fuck, Summer.” He moans, holding my head still. Pulling himself gently in and out as I attack the sensitive area with my tongue.
I push my head further forward, taking more of him into my mouth, continuing the attack with my tongue along his shaft as I suck. I move my head backwards and forwards, sucking and licking his length. His voice drops to a low groan, thick with restraint.
“That’s it… just like that.”
His fingers tighten in my hair, guiding my movements faster with a mix of control and need. Every sound that escapes him fuels me, every breath a reminder of how close he is to unravelling. I move in rhythm with his quiet commands, finding the pace that makes him tremble against me.
My eyes water as he pushes deeper into my mouth, causing the air to restrict. His grip tightens in my hair, a vice that stings just enough to blur the line between pain and pleasure.
The pull ignites something wild inside me—heat and hunger twisting together until I’m lost to the frenzy he creates. I take him deeper, licking harder. Sucking harder to give some of the pain back to him.
He looks down at me, eyes devouring the sight before him. A low growl rumbles from his chest, rising and falling with each strained breath, the movement of his abs hypnotic—fuelling the ache burning hotter inside me.
His movements become erratic, his mouth open wide, groans and pants leaving his mouth. Then my name.
“Summer…. Fuck… I’m gonna come and you’re gonna swallow every fucking drop.”
My eyes find his—a silent yes passing between us just before he comes undone.
His body goes rigid, his grip in my hair tightening—I’m sure I’ve lost some strands in his hands—he roars my name, the sound tearing through the air like it’s the only word he’s ever known as he spills inside of my mouth, flooding me with his salt and his seed.
He pulls my head back, forcing my eyes up to meet his—control radiating off him in waves.
“Swallow,” he orders, voice rough, breathless.
I do—exaggerating the motion, letting the sound of it echo between us.
“Open. Let me see, baby,” he growls, the words more animal than man.
I part my lips, tongue out, showing him every trace is gone. His eyes darken, a slow, dangerous satisfaction flickering there as his thumb drags across my bottom lip.
“You’re such a fucking good girl,” he growls, the praise rough enough to scrape skin. “And good girls get rewarded.”
His hand drops from my face, the warmth of it lingering just long enough to make me ache for more. Then his voice cuts through the air—hard, commanding, undeniable.
“Bedroom. Now.”
My heart is pounding so fast it feels dangerous, a wild rhythm that drowns out thought. I don’t know what he plans, but I still rush to his room—excitement pooling between my legs.
I make my way down the hall toward his bedroom, every step heavier than the last. The lump in my throat throbs in rhythm with my heartbeat, thick and unsteady.
I enter the room—he closes the door behind me in quick succession. My heart is beating so loud I’m sure he can hear it pumping in my chest.
He stalks to the closet, the sound of his steps muffled against the carpet. I expect him to reach for something familiar—his shirt, his underwear—but instead, he comes back holding a pair of cuffs.
Not the kind you buy in a novelty shop. Not soft, not playful. These are real—cold, heavy, the kind he uses for work. Their whole design is meant to restrain, not entice. The kind that doesn’t give you a chance to change your mind once they’re on.
The sight of them steals the air from my lungs.
“You have a choice baby. I can gag you, so the world doesn’t hear you shatter, but then, I won’t stop until I’m satisfied. Or you can scream for me and have a safeword,” He thrums, brushing the cuffs against my cheek.
A rush of heat surges through me, fast and dizzying. For a moment I can’t tell where fear ends and want begins; all I know is that my pulse isn’t panicked anymore—it’s hungry.
Still, beneath the pulse of adrenaline, a thread of reason holds tight. I need something that’s mine, a boundary in the middle of the chaos. A way to stop this if the pain goes too far.
“I want a safeword,” I half groan, half whisper.
He cocks a brow, happy with my choice, probably because he wants to hear every scream I have to give him.
“Your safeword is sheriff. Say stop and I won’t. Say no and I won’t stop. But say sheriff and it ends immediately,” He rasps, seriousness starting to take form on his expression. “Tell me you understand.”
“I do,” I whisper.
“Say it again,” he hums, a smile forming on his lips.
“I do,” I say louder.
“Mmm, one day you’ll say that at the end of an aisle, promising your life, your very fucking soul to me. But for now—” He spanks my ass, “get on the bed, climb up to the headboard.”
I do as I’m told and get into position. He comes next to me, threading the cuffs through the back of the bed, he puts the left one on first, the one that’s below the steel bar, and then the right that hangs over it.
He checks the cuffs, making sure they’re not digging into my skin.
As though he isn’t about to inflict pain—and pleasure—on my body.
“That’s right,” he groans. “Now bend over and let me see that pretty little ass.”