Chapter 49
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Harper
Song- No Good, KALEO
"Let me show you how sorry I am," I whisper.
He tilts his head. His eyes flick between my eyes and my lips, like he's deciding which one to ruin first.
"Oh yeah?" he whispers.
I nod. His hand tightens around my throat.
He walks us backward toward the bed. His grip on my throat guiding me like a leash I never want taken off.
"You don't get to come, Harper. Not until I tell you." He pauses. His fingers press deeper into the sides of my neck. "But I will. So many times. Inside you. Over you." He leans in until his lips brush mine. "Mine, Harper. You are my dirty little slut."
"Y-yes. Ace. I hear you."
I bite down on my tongue as he tosses me onto the bed. The mattress bounces beneath me, and I watch him cross the room. He yanks open the closet door and reappears with a belt.
His belt. The worn brown leather one with the silver buckle. Adrenaline shoots through me. I shiver, and I don't try to hide it.
He approaches. Takes his time. Lets me watch the way the leather hangs from his fist, the way his forearm flexes when he folds it in half with a snap that bounces through the room.
He tugs me forward until my legs hang over the edge of the bed. The leather glides along my calves, and my breath hitches.
He spreads my legs and settles between them, towering over me. Looking down at me with those dark eyes and that expression that makes me feel like the most powerful and the most helpless woman on the planet at the same time.
I let out a yelp when the belt taps against my inner thigh. Just a tease. A little sting that blooms warm across my skin. He knows I love it. He's always known. He's the only man I would ever trust enough to do this with. The only man who's earned the right to see me like this.
He grips my chin between his thumb and index finger, tipping my face up to his.
"I love you, Harper. Remember that when I'm spanking your ass with this belt."
A grin twitches at my lips. "Oh, I know, Acey."
He kisses me. Hard. The kind that steals your breath and replaces it with his. Before I can even try to deepen it, he rips himself away, grabs my hips, and flips me onto my front.
"Ass in the air, baby."
I do as he says. Press my face into the blanket. Arch my back. Present myself to him like an offering, because that's exactly what this is.
He huffs behind me, pushing my legs wider.
"So fucking wet. All for me, huh?"
"Yes. All yours," I cry out as his fingers dive inside me without warning. Curling against the spot that makes my vision blur.
"Again."
"Yours!" I shout.
The belt cracks down over my ass.
The pain sears through me. White-hot and sharp, colliding with the pleasure of his fingers still buried inside me, and the combination makes my entire body shake. My hands fist the sheets. A sound leaves me that I don't recognize.
He slides his fingers out. His thumb traces lower, teasing, pressing against the tight ring of muscle, and every cell in my body tenses.
There is no way in hell I can stop myself from coming if he does that.
He chuckles. "My girl still likes her ass being played with, hmm?" He presses one finger deeper.
A moan rips from me. That's his answer.
"I haven't let anyone else," I manage between ragged breaths. "Only you."
Six years. Six long years without this. Nobody else got close. Nobody else was allowed. This part of me has always been his.
"Fuck," he hisses. The word sounds like it's been dragged out of him.
The belt comes down on the other side. The crack fills the room, and the sting blooms hot across my skin. I lurch forward, and he yanks me back, his finger pushing into my ass hard and deep.
"Ace! Please. I can't. I can't hold it. Let me come," I cry.
His hand stills. Everything stills. I hold my breath.
Then he drags me back onto him, and his cock thrusts into my pussy in one stroke.
"Oh my god!"
My body lights up from the inside out. He fucks me. This is for him. Not gentle. Not careful. He takes what he needs, groaning my name over and over, his grip on my hips so tight I'll wear the bruises for days. His pace is punishing and selfish, and I love every second of it.
I squeeze my eyes shut. Tense every muscle in my body to stop myself from tipping over the edge.
Clench my jaw so hard my teeth ache. I forget to breathe.
The pressure builds and builds, a wall of pleasure pressing against every barrier I'm holding up, and I'm shaking with the effort of not letting it break.
He finishes with a groan that vibrates through my spine. Every pulse. Every throb. Mine.
I'm dripping with sweat and panting as he pulls out. Rubs his hands over the welts on my ass, soothing the sting, and then his teeth sink into my cheek. Hard enough to leave a mark. Hard enough that the shock of it nearly sends me over the edge I've been clinging to for the last ten minutes.
"Ace! I am begging you. Please. Fuck. Please. I'm yours. I've only ever been yours. I need this." The words come out broken. Sobbed. I don't care how I sound. I don't care about pride. I need him to let me shatter.
He backs away. I collapse against the bed, face down, trembling, my fingers still twisted in the sheets.
I hear a drawer open. The tear of foil. The click of a cap.
"You’re not quite sorry enough," he says.
I want to cry. I think I am crying.
He rolls me onto my back carefully. Almost tender. The whiplash of it makes my head spin. One hand strokes himself as I watch him roll on the condom and slick himself with lube. His eyes never leave mine. Watching me watch him.
"Give me a show, baby. And I'll think about fucking your ass and letting you come all over my dick."
My breath hitches. I need this. I slide my legs open and sit up. Circle my clit slowly, holding his gaze. Letting him see everything. The flush on my chest. The way my stomach tightens. The way my lips part when I sink two fingers inside myself and let my head fall back.
"Ace," I call out.
I need something to summon him.
It works. He's across the room in two strides, and his face is between my legs before I can take another breath. His tongue swipes up through me toward my clit, and the sound he makes against my skin is animal.
"Fuck, Goldie," he growls.
"I can't. Fuck. Ace." I'm barely forming words. My fingers grip his hair, and I ride his face, chasing the release he still hasn't given me permission for, and I don't care anymore, I don't care about the rules, I just need him.
He pulls away and clambers over me, laying me back down. His weight settles over me, and I feel the press of him between my thighs.
My nails dig into his back as he pushes my leg up against my chest. I lift my hips. He positions himself at the entrance of my ass and pauses. Just enough for the anticipation to scream through every nerve.
"Color?" he asks. And he's grinning. The bastard is grinning. He knows the damn answer.
"The greenest green flag that has ever existed," I say.
He pushes in slowly. My mouth falls open. His lips crash over mine, swallowing the sound I make, and the fullness of him, the stretch, the pressure, the overwhelming closeness of his body on top of mine and inside me and everywhere at once is almost too much.
Almost.
"So fucking tight, Harper. Fuck. You can come." He grits out.
"Thank you," I breathe.
He tilts my body toward him, hitches my leg higher so he can go deeper. His other hand finds my clit and circles it in time with each thrust, and the dual sensation is so intense my back arches off the bed.
"That's it, baby."
I crash over the edge, screaming his name. Not the careful, muffled version. The full, unrestrained version that echoes off the walls and probably reaches the barn, and I do not care.
He fucks me through it. Every wave. Every aftershock. His forehead pressed against mine, his breath ragged, his hand still working me, drawing it out until I'm boneless and shaking and the tears I was holding back are streaming down my temples into my hair.
He follows me over. I feel it. The way his body locks. The way his rhythm breaks. The way he says my name like a prayer against my throat as he lets go.
We stay like that. His weight on me, his face in my neck, my arms around his back, my fingers tracing the scratches I've left on his skin.
He presses a kiss to my collarbone, then my jaw. Then the corner of my mouth.
"You okay?" he murmurs.
"I'm so far past okay, I need a new word for it."
He laughs. "That's my girl."
He rolls onto his back and drags me with him, pressed against his chest, my legs straddling him. He pulls off the condom and places it on the bedside table.
“I ain’t done with you yet, baby,” he growls, pulling me in and stealing a kiss.
“Good.”
He takes a breath.
“Good boy. Fuck me again.”
Oh, hell yes.