Chapter 42 Ella #2
“You don’t wear lesser men’s jewelry, Ella,” he says as he slips a second necklace over my head.
This one is long and silver, with an amethyst stone that hits me below my breasts.
He traces his finger down my sternum to the amethyst stone.
He moves his hand an inch to the right and brushes it over my breast, giving it a quick pinch.
“You wear my jewelry. Langford jewelry.”
He opens the fourth box which holds massive teardrop diamond earrings. He holds them out for me.
“Put them in your ears,” he orders.
I want to roll my eyes and tell him I get his point, but I don’t dare. The fury still burning in Asher’s eyes makes me bite my tongue. Plus, his obvious jealousy is . . . doing things to me. I certainly don’t hate it.
I put the earrings in and almost gasp at the weight of them. What do earrings like this cost? Once they’re in place, he kisses below my ear and along my jaw, and I almost pant. My core is on fire, and my pussy is soaked.
He opens the fifth box and pulls out a black stone ring. It’s large for me, so he fits it on the middle finger of my left hand. The sixth box holds a bracelet with large rubies surrounded in smaller diamonds. He clasps it on my left wrist, then kisses and sucks on my wrist.
“Other men run down to the jeweler and buy trinkets for their wives or girlfriends,” he hisses, sliding another massive pink diamond ring onto my left ring finger.
“But I am not other men. This is Langford jewelry. Heirlooms of my family’s dynasty.
” He opens the second large box and pulls out another eight jewelry boxes.
He opens the first and pulls out a necklace of gorgeous emeralds, each a carat, at least. He fastens the necklace and sets it on the others.
He kisses my neck again, and this time I can’t bite back the moan that escapes me.
“You are mine, Ella,” he growls. “And so you don’t wear trinkets from the jeweler like lesser men give their women. You wear priceless jewelry created decades or centuries ago. You wear jewelry created as one-of-a-kind pieces for the Langfords and their women. Do you understand me?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
On and on he continues. He layers me with dozens and dozens of priceless family jewels, nipping, kissing, and sucking on me as he goes. By the time he finishes, the table and floor are all strewn with jewelry boxes, and I can literally feel the weight of centuries of jewelry all over me.
When the last bracelet is in place, almost to my elbow because there’s so many beneath it, he reaches his hands to my back.
He unclasps my bra and pulls the straps from my shoulders.
He tosses it aside and slides my panties down right after.
I try to shirk away, shy about my naked reflection, but he grabs my hips and stills me.
“No,” he orders. “Look at yourself. Look at you, bare for me, only me. Wearing my jewelry, living in my home, sleeping in my bed. You will watch me while I show you how I take care of what’s mine.”
He reaches around, and I watch, fascinated now, as his hands take both of my breasts, and he squeezes them with the perfect amount of pressure.
“These breasts are mine,” he growls, sucking on my neck, just below my jaw because the necklaces are stacked so high that’s the lowest point he can touch with his lips.
He slides one hand down to my center and runs his hands over my slit.
“This pussy is mine.” His eyes meet mine in the mirror as he parts my legs slightly and slips his finger inside me.
I gasp out in pleasure. “Those sounds you make, Ella? Those are for my ears only. You make those for me and only me.”
“Yes,” I breathe.
He runs his second hand down my side and down to my ass, grabbing it firmly as he still pumps a finger in and out of me. “This ass is mine. And make no mistake, I will claim it soon enough. I will leave my cum in every part of your body.”
His hands both leave me. He pulls his shirt off, and his pants follow. He kicks his clothes away and stands behind me, naked.
“No one sends flowers and jewelry to what is mine. And no one touches what is mine.”
A second later, he leans me forward slightly and without warning, sheaths himself inside me.
I groan at the sensation, at the fullness of him as he slides out and back in, taking me from behind.
He begins to move harder and faster, and he’s so much taller than I am that I have to stand on my toes, and he bends a bit to bring our bodies together.
“Eyes forward, Ella,” he growls. “Watch me fuck you while you wear my jewels. Watch me take what’s mine while I remind you why no other man will ever be good enough for you.”
Our eyes meet in the mirror, and the fire in his blue eyes disappears as they dilate, practically blown black, as he pounds into me.
This is nothing like our sweet, passionate fucking of last night.
This raw, jagged—claiming. He fucks me hard and unforgiving.
And I can’t help but get caught up in a haze of lust, watching my breasts bounce and hearing the clink of jewelry as they bounce against each other in time with his fucking.
Asher watches as well, a gleam of satisfaction and fascination in his eyes.
He wraps one arm around my waist and pulls me even farther into him, practically crushing my back to his front.
He ramps up his speed, his intensity. And yet neither of us looks away.
And the haze of lust claims both of us, entwining us, dominating us.
Soon, I’m climbing, so fucking turned on by this aggressive male. He wraps his hand around my hair and pulls my neck to the side. He bites at my neck, then pinches my nipple, and the pleasure and pain of it all push me over, and I come, shouting his name.
Asher comes a few seconds later, burying his face in my hair.
When he recovers, he kisses me languidly then nips at my earlobe.
He pulls out of me and stands to his full height.
He holds onto my hips, keeping me in place, as we pant out our breaths.
Sweat leaves a slight sheen on both of our bodies, and we stay there, locked in place, just looking at our bodies in the mirror, still melded together.
I move my hand to wipe at my center as Asher’s cum starts to leak out of me and run down my leg.
“No,” he snaps, pulling my hand away. He locks both of my hands in his grip. “Look at it. Watch my cum drip out of you. Only my cum has been inside you. No man’s cum gets to be inside you but mine.”
Then he drops one of my hands, and his hand moves to my center. He glides his finger across the apex of my thighs, through his cum, and then spreads it over my clit.
“Whose pussy is this?” he demands.
“Yours,” I breathe.
He growls in approval. “Mine.”
“Get on the bed,” he orders.
As I do, the clinking and tinkling of jewelry fills the room.
I lie on my back, and Asher kneels over me.
He threads his fingers through mine and lifts our hands over my head.
He pins them there as his lips crash against mine, and he kisses me in the same way he just fucked me— claiming, demanding. Obsessive.
Then his kisses make their way down to my jaw, down my sternum, between the layers of necklaces resting there, over my breasts, down my stomach. Then he starts again at my right wrist and makes his way down my arm, and then he repeats himself down my left arm.
When he finishes, he stares down at me. He plants a small kiss to my nose, then an achingly tender kiss to my lips.
He holds my eyes as he slides inside me again, slowly.
When he moves this time, it’s all encompassing in a different way.
This time it doesn’t feel like a claiming, it feels like an offering—like a promise.
The black of his eyes has receded, and the sky blue simmers with fire, but a softer, more tender fire.
As we move together, the pressure between us builds into something more. I wrap my arms around him, probably scraping him with the cascades of jewels around my wrists, and hold him tight to me. Even an inch of space between us feels like too much.
Our foreheads meet as we lose ourselves in one another. We kiss and breathe each other in, and this time the clinking of jewelry sounds at a slower, more languid pace. Because this is not fucking.
This is love making.
“Asher,” I whisper, so caught up in him, I can’t help but say his name.
“I know, baby.”
And soon, I’m falling over the edge, and I come, crying out his name again.
He thrusts into me a few more times before following me over the edge. “Ella!”
After we finish, we lie wrapped up in each other. My head rests on his chest, and he holds me in his arms. My nails ghost back and forth across his chest as he strokes his hand absentmindedly down my back. I could stay just like this forever, safe and sound in Asher’s arms.
He lifts my hand and kisses my fingers where at least twenty rings sit, and as I watch his beautiful lips reverently mark me, I fight prickles in the backs of my eyes.
I do everything I can to hold back the sweet, beautiful, terrifying tears that want to escape.
Because something has shifted between us.
Something irrevocable. And that something both excites and terrifies me. Because I know one thing.
I’m falling in love with Asher Langford.