Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
What is true immortality? When can I be with my monster, forever? Because this life … I can’t continue to live in.
—Lorinne Leroux’s private journal.
Everett, still seated on the armchair, crossed an ankle over his thigh. “Now feels like a good time to show us those see-through garments you wear.” He pointed out the window. “We’re running out of sunshine, and I want to see every stitch.”
Westley growled at his second. “That’s enough.”
His arms were still wrapped around Winter, holding her close. He was worried she’d be yanked back to the future after telling the truth. Clearly, she didn’t need to shift to grow.
Everett raised his hands in innocence then shoved them in his pockets.
Winter turned in his arms. “Please, go sit.” He reluctantly released her, moved across the room, and plopped on the end of his bed.
She backed up to rest against the wall. “I need to make some things very clear if we’re going to be doing whatever it is we’re doing.
Any nudity is on my terms. Fucking—that’s also on my terms. I own the both of you, not the other way around.
There will never be an us unless I’m in charge. Any questions?”
He swept his gaze to his presumptuous second who was studying Winter. He knew the look in Everett’s eye. It was the same one he would use while mapmaking—memorizing each angle and curve. He was picturing her naked. “Do you understand what she’s saying?” Westley growled.
Everett’s teal eyes remained on her waist. “If I say no, will she say it again?”
Winter rolled her eyes. “Okay I changed my mind. Everett can leave.”
“Get out.” He didn’t use his alpha tone, but the order was crisp.
Everett was up, shaking his head. “Seriously?” He hesitated but neither of them stopped him. Hand on the handle, he turned back to Winter and said, “For the record, Miss Librarian, I don’t think you understand the definition of the word cruel.” And on that note, he left, swinging the door shut.
Winter was raking her nails on the wall. “I hope you know torturing him would bring me as much joy as hate-fucking him—perhaps more. If it makes you feel any better.”
Westley tugged on his hair. “I’m not sure it does.”
She smirked, swapping her irritation with something tender. “I really love when you play with your hair.” Her gaze softened on his, hips swaying as she stepped towards him. Winter didn’t need claws to rip his heart out. It was already in her hands.
He pulled the strands atop his forehead taut before releasing them. “It’s a habit.”
“A cute one,” she said, landing between his thighs.
He’d never tire of her being this close to him. He cocked his head, studying the curl of her lips. She didn’t fight her smile—it reached her eyes.
“Are you being … nice?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He looped his arms around her waist and tugged her closer.
If Winter was being truthful, he needed to be as well.
“I’m sorry for not telling you about Everett sooner.
After so long, our bond is just a part of who I am.
Announcing it feels odd. But I have nothing to hide, and keeping the truth from you was wrong. For that, I’ll keep apologizing.”
Her mouth landed on his, pressing twice before she said, “Once is enough.”
He went in for kiss number three, this time nursing her swollen lips.
Warmth built. Hot, heavy, and holy hell he wanted her so bad.
Breaking contact took effort. Every inch of her was designed to destroy him—her grin especially.
The sharp points of her fangs were an intoxicating contrast to the soft lines on her face.
“I need you, Winter. Desperately and endlessly.”
“Then I want you to listen carefully,” she said, running a fingertip along the angle of his jaw.
He leaned into her touch, unable to fight the desire rumbling through him. “Make me yours. Own me. I’ll be whatever you need, so long as you’re mine to keep.”
She drew her shoulders back and puffed her chest. “Very well.”
Was West—an alpha—capable of submission? There was only one way to find out ... “How comfortable are you with ropes?”
“This is a swine farm.”
“Does that mean very?”
“Yes.”
She pulled her wand from her top knot, letting her hair fall. She gave her head a shake, aimed the point between his brows, and asked, “What about magical ropes?”
His lips parted, but no words followed.
“Is that a no?”
Silence stewed between them, each second making her wonder if he was breathing. She broke it and asked, “Are you okay?”
“I-I can’t think with your hair down.”
She tossed it over her shoulder. “Good news, Wolfie. You don’t have to do any thinking. All you have to say is yes or no. So, is it okay if I restrain you with magical ropes?”
He mumbled his answer so quietly, she couldn’t hear him.
“Louder.”
“Yes.”
She backed away, shifting her hips with each step. “And say you get uncomfortable … Will you say the word maple so I know to ease up?”
He scrunched his dark brows. “Pardon me?”
She glared. “Yes or no?”
“Yes.”
The backs of her knees touched the ottoman. “Good, then I only have one more question.” She sat down and spread her legs. One sniff from West would confirm how aroused she was—and there’d be nothing he could do about it.
“Yes?” he asked, jaw working.
“Do you trust me?”
“With my life.”
Why was he fiddling with her heart like this?
This experience was meant to block out feelings, not induce them.
“Alright, that's enough talking from you.” She didn’t have time for a formal introduction to her kink.
The sun was about to set and West’s declaration was going to derail this mission.
“Let’s begin. Shirt. Take it off.” She snapped her fingers.
He glanced at her sidelong then stretched the tunic up and over his shoulders. Every hard line had been cut with precision, giving way to thick planes of muscle. His chest was shaved and smooth, except for the jagged serpent scar.
Winter clenched her teeth.
Seeing the queen’s mark on him was a stark reminder. Her life was out of fucking control.
West fixed his hazel eyes on hers, catching her moment of disarray.
“You’ve not been given permission to look at me.”
His puzzled gaze fell.
Learning would take time, she reminded herself. But he roamed his hands up and down his thighs, testing her patience. “Do you like touching yourself?” she asked. Working against orders would come with repercussions—a dynamic he’d need to grasp. “Because I didn’t ask you to.”
He slid his hands off his legs.
She leaned forward, lowering her voice to a sultry tone. “Better. Now tell me how bad you want to fuck me.”
His deep breath rumbled across the room, smacking her in the face. “I’d kill for it.”
“Then unbutton your pants, because we have work to do.”
When he finished, his fingers stopped moving. Training him might be easier than she’d thought. “Alright, go on. Let me see how hard you are.”
He groaned his approval, reached between his thighs, and adjusted his seat to free his dick.
The sheer size of him was unfathomable. She’d seen glimpses before but never had the chance to examine it.
The length was at least ten, eleven, possibly twelve inches.
It was still growing and the veins coiling around the thick shaft were monstrous.
Fuck, he would destroy her.
She had to focus. “Alright, look at me.”
He glared beneath his thick, black lashes.
“No, no,” she purred, flicking her gaze between her legs. “Here.” She used her wand to point to her clit. His dick twitched as he narrowed in on her pussy. “Do you understand that this is a privilege you’ve not yet earned?”
A muscle feathered in his tight jaw. “Yes.”
“Perfect,” she said, clapping her knees shut and standing.
The room was quiet enough to hear his thumping heart.
She swaggered to him, placing a hand on his thigh.
His body pulsed with life—his pupils, his jugular veins, his cock.
Saliva flooded her mouth, and it was just for him.
“I’m going to spit on you. How’s that sound? ”
His mouth parted before he started nodding. “Yes.”
It wasn’t a yes or no question, but Winter kept her face straight.
She leaned over him and let her spit drip.
West gasped, scooping her saliva graciously.
“You’ll need more than that,” she observed, then spit a second time.
“There.” She knelt between his legs, positioning herself for the show. “Are you ready to touch yourself?”
He let out a small growl. “Yes.”
“Okay,” she said, “then start.”
West wove fingers around his slick skin, roaming his fist up and down his shaft. There was so much length to stroke he added another hand. And the vasculature at eye-level was extraordinary. She longed to trace every vessel with her tongue.
His grunting and urgent pace refocused her. “Slow down,” she hissed.
He ignored her, his hand moving faster. Then his hips jerked.
She stood, aiming her wand on the prize. “Do not come,” she ordered. “It’s been seconds.”
He dropped his head back like he was going to anyway. He trusted her way too much, it seemed. She could easily crack his spine. “Torquem et lorum.”
A glittering rope shot from her wand. With a small flick, it looped around his neck and knotted itself into a collar.
He stopped fucking himself and reached for it. Hands couldn’t pry this puppy off, not even claws. Westley tested the boundaries anyway. Reaching for the end of the rope, she closed fingers around it, and walked backwards. “I said slow down, Wolfie. Are you ready to try this again?”
West fought his restraint for a moment longer before he nodded.
At first he started slow, but it didn’t last very long. Winter had no choice in yanking him off the bed. If he hadn’t been so distracted by trying to finish, perhaps he would’ve been better prepared for his tumble.
“Your lack of discipline will only make this take longer,” she warned.
He sat on the floor, a pained look spreading across his face.
She stomped her foot and pulled on his leash. “Crawl to me for misbehaving.” She issued the command through her teeth.
He hesitated.
“Now.”
He shifted his gaze to the floor, placed his hands and knees on the rug, then slowly made his way to her feet.
She eyed him with disapproval, shifted her weight to one leg, and stepped on his shoulder. “Apologize for not listening.”
“I’m sorry.”
That wouldn’t do. She wedged her foot into his back, forcing him downwards until he was flat on the floor. When his nose brushed the navy rug, she leaned down. “I didn’t catch that.”
He tried again. “I am very sorry. I’ll listen next time.”
“You can do better than that.” She wiggled her toes, giving him a good idea of what that meant.
Westley swept his tongue across the top of her foot and finished with a press of his lips. His mouth was devilishly warm, making her pussy scream.
“Now roll over,” she ordered, trying her best to stay in character.
Although West was the one submitting, she was the one growing weaker. It wasn’t supposed to work like this. Her feelings had to stop; she was in charge.
Once he was flat on his back, she said, “Alright, let’s continue.”
He hummed in answer, stroking his dick again. Why was he moving so fast? She placed her feet on either side of his face and looked down. “Slower … or I move.” He shifted his gaze between her legs, then immediately relaxed his pace.
“Good choice.”
She angled her head to observe him. Creased brows, wild eyes, parted lips. Minutes ticked by and she enjoyed each one. Soon he let out a guttural moan, rocking his hips. She tightened up her twinkling leash enough to lift his head.
“Are you picturing yourself fucking me?”
He grunted, working himself harder. Did he think she couldn’t hear his lack of obedience? She’d said slow. So. Many. Times. Winter crouched low, leaving her aching clit a hair away from his nose. “You’re a terrible listener, Mr. Sterling.”
He clamped his eyes shut and inhaled her arousal without restraint.
“That’s quite enough.” She rose and stepped to the leather armchair, her magical rope lengthening along the way. She sat back, relaxed her shoulders, and got comfortable. “At this rate, you won’t be coming before sunset.”
“Maple,” he hissed.
Winter scoffed. “Alright then. Session’s over.”
He wrinkled his brows. “No.”
“Then why say Maple, West?”
“I want to come …” He looked at her, as if waiting for permission. “I promise I’ll listen this time. Don’t stop.”
“I suggested you go slower, is that something you can do?”
West restarted on his own accord. “Yes.”
So be it.
To her relief, he obeyed this time, working slowly.
She threw her legs up on the ottoman, crossed her ankles, and continued her observation. He had no right to comment on her pussy when he’d shaved himself bare. Between the unobstructed view and his spicy scent filling this room, she was wiping the saliva from the corners of her mouth.
It was becoming impossible to resist him. She wanted to be by his side, she wanted him to finish in her mouth.
This session needed to end.
“I think it’s time.” She used her wand to reverse the Rope Spell. “Turn to face me.” He rolled to his side, his skin doused in sweat.
The way his dick gawked at her made her feel a little guilty for being rough with him. “Are you ready to come?”
“Yes.”
“Then what are you waiting for?”
He grinned, pumping his length with an intensity she’d never seen before.
Maybe West was the one with a magical rope.
His body began to curl as his abdomen flexed, the unnatural number of muscles going rigid.
He gave his dick a few violent tugs before his heavy gasp occupied the room.
Thick cum shot out in ropes, stretching far enough to make her eyebrow lift.
That would certainly get her pregnant—perhaps from a distance. Winter rubbed her bicep, happy to have a contraceptive implant lodged in there. Really, really deep in there.
West dropped his head to the carpet, surrendering to the aftershock of his orgasm. Winter approached slowly, settling on the floor with him. She laid alongside his back and ran fingers through his thick hair. “You did so well.”
After massaging his scalp, she made her way to his neck, into his upper back, and then along the deep grooves of his biceps. “Can I get you anything?”
He reached his hand to hers, gently squeezing it. “Just this.”