22. Briar
Chapter Twenty-Two
brIAR
“Ilove you.”
The words echo through me as Drystan stays buried deep inside, still laying on top of me. He’s so massive, yet his elbows hold most of his weight, protecting me even now. I can feel every single piercing inside me, rubbing with the slightest shift of my breath.
I can’t believe how hard I came—twice. How he seems to know my body better than I know it myself. Even while chaining me down, he made sure I shattered for him. God… I loved fighting him. I loved the chains.
And why do I feel so safe with him?
He’s a killer. I know what he’s capable of. Yet he’s never truly hurt me. Not in the way that breaks a soul.
He shifts, slowly sliding out of me. I wince at the sharp sting.
“Shh, breathe deep,” he coos, pressing a kiss to my forehead. The contrast between the feral man who just ruined me and this gentle one makes my chest ache.
He pulls out completely, and before I can catch my breath, his fingers slide back inside me. I whimper, caught between pain and lingering pleasure.
“We’re not going to waste a single drop,” he murmurs, smirking as his thumb circles my clit.
“Drystan… I can’t take any more,” I beg, but he doesn’t stop. He adds another finger, pumping slowly, curling them just right. Heat builds fast. My back arches off the bed as another orgasm crashes through me—hard, blinding. I scream, my vision blurring into stars.
My entire body trembles uncontrollably.
When his fingers finally slip out, the mattress dips as he leans in to kiss me, slow and deep.
“Good girl,” he rasps against my lips. “Now rest. I’ll take care of you.”
I stay there, limp and chained, feeling his cum slowly leaking from me. Part of me worries how mad he’ll be about it… but another part doesn’t care. I’m too tired. Too sated. For the first time in forever, I feel lighter. Safer.
“Briar.”
His voice pulls me back. The chains are gone. I’m in his arms, and when I look up, his hair is wet, black strands falling across his forehead. He smells like my shampoo.
“You showered,” I say softly.
“I came for you first, but you were already asleep.” He carries me into the bathroom and leans down, the warm water of the bathtub hits my back, and I melt against it.
I hum at the heat, though it stings a little between my legs. “I’m so sore,” I murmur.
He chuckles, low and soft. “I know. I’ll let you rest until tonight.”
As he gathers the bottles, I notice they’re all the exact same brands I use. Shampoo, conditioner, shower gel—everything. I should feel terrified by how deeply he’s studied me.
But I don’t.
Drystan is insane. He’s dangerous. A villain wrapped in shadows and obsession. Yet he looks at me like I’m the only light in his darkness.
No one has ever loved me like this.
He would burn the world for me… and some twisted part of me loves that he would.
I watch him—broad back flexing, muscles shifting as he reaches for things. His wet black hair, the intensity in his eyes even now. I try the old test I used to do with Lucille when we were drunk: imagining the man we were fucking with another woman.
My stomach twists violently.
No. He’s mine.
Shit. Am I losing my mind?
I’m sitting in the warm bathtub, knees drawn to my chest, while Drystan kneels beside me.
His strong hands rub slow, soothing circles along my back and shoulders.
Even from this position, I can see the thick veins running along his forearms, the way his muscles flex and shift every time he moves.
How can someone so dangerous touch me with this much care?
“Was Tom your first kill?” I ask, forehead resting on my knees. I don’t look at him. I’m not sure I want to see the truth in his eyes.
“No.”
I lift my head slowly. He’s still kneeling beside the tub, working shampoo into my hair with careful fingers.
“How many?” I ask.
He pauses. Those forest-green eyes meet mine. “Four since I was released. Two while I was inside.”
Oh my God. “And they still let you out?”
A dark smirk tugs at his lips. “I was never caught, Briar. Not yet.”
My heart is racing.
“Why were you in jail then?”
He exhales heavily. Pain flashes across his face before it hardens into quiet anger. “Drystan?”
He leans over the edge of the tub and kisses my forehead, then gently rinses the shampoo from my hair with steady hands.
“My father stole crypto from his clients for years. He said I was young with a clean record and I could take the fall and get parole.” A bitter chuckle escapes him, hollow and cold.
“I was stupid. I agreed. But right before the trial, one of the men he stole from killed himself.”
“Oh my God.” I reach up and cup his face. He immediately leans into my touch. “He’s your father… What kind of man does that to his own son?”
“A shitty one.” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. It’s a sad, broken thing that aches in my chest. “He never cared about anyone but himself. He hated seeing anyone else happy. My mother loved hellebores… so he destroyed them all.”
“Oh, Drystan…” I pull his face closer and kiss him softly. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He kisses me back, deeper this time. A low groan rumbles from his chest. “All of it brought me to you.”
When he pulls away, hunger darkens his gaze. He stands and slides his black boxers down his muscular thighs. His cock springs free, hard and heavy, piercings catching the light.
“I can’t wait until tonight, Briar,” he growls.
He steps into the tub and sits down, water splashing over the edge. “Come here. Sit on my cock.”
I should say no. I’m still sore, my body aching from everything he’s already done to me… but I need him too much.
I rise onto my knees, straddle his lap in the warm water, and grip his thick length.
I brace my hands on his broad, powerful shoulders as I slowly sink down onto him.
Every inch stretches me open, his piercings dragging along my sensitive walls with a burning, delicious friction that makes my breath hitch.
His face twists with feral pleasure, jaw clenched so tightly I can see the veins standing out sharply along his neck and forearms. The muscles in his arms and chest flex hard as he fights for control.
“Fuck!” he grunts, his fingers digging into my hips hard enough to bruise.
I feel all of him. Every thick inch. Every steel piercing rubbing deep inside me. God, why does this feel so good?
A dark whisper curls through my mind—he’s killed people—but the thought only sends a forbidden thrill racing down my spine. He’s dangerous. Lethal. And right now he’s buried inside me like I’m the only thing anchoring him to this world.
My fingers trace the raised, scarred letters of my name carved into his chest. The skin is rough under my fingertips.
“Why did you do this?” I breathe.
He stares straight into my soul, eyes dark and unhinged. “Because a tattoo wasn’t enough. I needed your name carved into me in pain and blood.”
The raw confession should terrify me. Instead, it makes me clench around him.
Before I can respond, he grips my hips tighter and thrusts up hard, slamming me down onto his cock.
A sharp sting explodes through me. My head falls back as I cry out, caught between pain and blinding pleasure.
He doesn’t stop—he keeps thrusting, harder, deeper, his powerful body surging beneath mine with raw, desperate need.
Water splashes violently around us with every brutal thrust of his hips. I should be terrified of how easily he could break me in half, yet instead I find myself drowning in him, craving more with every desperate roll of my body.
His hand slides up to my throat, large fingers wrapping around my neck with terrifying ease.
I meet his gaze. His forest-green eyes have turned almost black with hunger, but the corner of his mouth curls into a dark, possessive smile as he begins to press on the sides of my neck.
The air thins slowly but his hips continue their relentless rhythm, driving deep inside me, while his other hand grips my waist, holding me exactly where he wants me.
“Are you afraid of me?” he asks, voice low and rough, tightening his hold.
“Y-yes,” I manage, the word strained and breathless under the pressure of his fingers.
“You should be.”
He squeezes harder. My lungs burn. Panic flares bright and sharp through my chest. I struggle against him, but his grip remains unyielding. His thrusts grow even more powerful, each piercing dragging against sensitive places inside me until my mind turns hazy and molten.
Just as darkness begins to edge my vision, his hand loosens.
I gasp in deep, greedy breaths, my whole body shaking violently.
He does not remove his hand from my throat.
He keeps it there, a heavy, constant reminder of his control, applying just enough pressure to make my pulse race wildly beneath his palm.
He shifts his movements, forcing my hips to grind against him so my clit rubs with devastating friction against his pelvis. The new angle, the relentless fullness, the weight of his hand on my neck—it all crashes over me at once.
A raw scream tears from my throat as my orgasm hits like lightning through my veins.
I convulse around him, waves of blinding pleasure ripping through me so intensely I can barely hold myself upright.
The combination of him, his piercings stretching me, his unyielding hand on my throat, and the dark devotion burning in his eyes becomes too much.
Darkness creeps in at the edges of my vision. My strength gives out completely, and I collapse forward onto his chest, trembling uncontrollably as the water continues to lap around us.
I hear Drystan release a deep, guttural grunt against my hair as his hips jerk one final time.
The warmth of his release floods deep inside me, thick and endless, claiming my body.
He presses a surprisingly tender kiss to the top of my head, his lips lingering there.
Without a word, he reaches for the shower gel and continues to wash me with slow strokes, his cock still buried inside me, softening gradually while the water laps gently around us.
His large hands eventually slide to my hips.
He lifts me carefully off him, the loss of his fullness leaving me achingly empty.
He steps out of the tub first, wrapping a towel low around his waist. The silence that settles between us feels heavier than any of his unhinged declarations.
It terrifies me more than his violence ever could.
He walks out of the bathroom without looking back and I let out a shaky breath.
The bathroom mirrors the gothic elegance of the bedroom.
Black marble tiles veined with silver, dark wood vanities, a plush purple rug beneath the chandelier that casts soft, fractured light across the space.
The shower is enormous, and the bathtub easily fit both of us.
Everything feels intentionally chosen. Intentionally me.
I rise on trembling legs and reach for the soft beige towel he left folded on a small stool beside the tub. After drying myself, I open one of the drawers and find my favorite blossom-orange scented lotion and matching deodorant waiting there. A quiet, unsettling warmth blooms in my chest.
Jesus. He really has thought of everything.
I walk back into the bedroom on unsteady feet. Drystan sits in one of the deep armchairs near the window, dressed once again in all black, his posture rigid and his gaze fixed on the floor. The fire has burned low, casting long shadows across his sharp features.
“Drystan?” I call softly.
He doesn’t look up at first.
“I will keep losing control with you,” he says at last, his voice low and rough with self-disgust as he shakes his head.
“You drive me to the brink of insanity, Briar. No matter how deep I bury myself inside you, it is never enough. I need more. I crave more. I fear I will always want more until there is nothing left of either of us.”
I walk toward him slowly, my bare feet silent on the thick rug. “Look at me, please,” My voice weaker than I intend.
He lifts his head. Those forest-green eyes meet mine, stormy and tormented.
“I will hurt you,” he continues, the words heavy. “I will take things too far because that is who I am. That is what I become when I am with you.”
“I don’t care,” I breathe, reaching out to touch his face.
He catches my wrist in a firm grip and rises to his full, imposing height.
“I know you don’t. And what truly terrifies me is that you enjoy it, don’t you, my love?
You enjoy it when I am rough with you. When my hand tightens around your throat and your mind spirals wondering whether I will end you or ruin you completely. ”
A flush crawls up my neck. “I don’t know why I like it, Drystan. I don’t know why the panic… why the fear makes me feel so alive.”
He grips my chin gently but possessively, tilting my face up to his. “Because there is a darker side to you, Briar. A side that was always there, buried deep. A side someone pulled out of you. Tell me—what the fuck happened while I was locked away? Who hurt you?”
“It was a long time ago.” I try to step back, but his hand settles firmly on my lower back, anchoring me against him. “It doesn’t matter anymore…”
“It does matter,” he insists, his voice deepening with quiet intensity. “Everything that concerns you is the only thing that matters to me in this world. Tell me what happened, Briar.”
His green eyes are so deep, so raw with genuine concern that it steals the air from my lungs. For a moment, he almost sounds like a man who truly loves me.
“Fine,” I say, swallowing hard. “But let me get dressed first? Maybe make a cup of tea? I need a moment to gather my thoughts.”
He studies me for a long second before stepping back, giving me the space I asked for. “Yes. Meet me downstairs when you are ready.” He moves toward the door but pauses, glancing back at me with a dark warning in his gaze. “But Briar? Do not try anything. You will not like what happens if you do.”