1. Her Protector #2
"I told you, you are going to watch every single thing I do to you.
You are going to see your face as you come.
Now, pay attention." Iris blinked her eyes open and tried to focus on what she was seeing and not on what she was feeling.
She watched the muscles in his forearm flex as his fingers played her like a violin.
His other hand tweaked her nipple one last time, then it dropped behind her.
She felt his hand unzipping his trousers, and soon his hot, hard member pressed up against her buttocks.
He stretched his hand to penetrate her deeper, an action met with her ecstatic praise. Her shocked moan echoing off the marble tiles surrounding them. "You like that?" His dark voice asked with satisfaction.
Iris was so far past pretending that she didn't want him.
All she could do was nod her head while keeping her eyes locked on his hand.
He ground his hard member against her, and then brought his other hand up to cup her chin.
With firm, yet surprisingly gentle movement, he pulled her eyes away from between her legs, and focused her eyes on her own face.
He was crouched behind her, placing his head at the same level as hers in the mirror.
"See that?" He asked with a nod of his head. She furrowed her brow in response, unsure of what he was asking. His fingers had not slowed at all, keeping her in a perpetual state of of dazed lust.
"See how we match? How it was always supposed to be?
" His words took a dark turn. "This? This is what is saving you from my revenge.
I am not so foolish to throw away what we have just because you decided it was not worth fighting for.
" Anger coursed in his words, but his hand maintained the same speed and pressure.
Sending her careening towards her peak. His words caused indignation to spark within her, but she couldn't get even a word out.
"You claimed to love me, which you didn't." Her mouth dropped open in outrage, and she tried to pull away.
He locked her tight against the counter, not letting her move an inch.
"You didn't. At least, not enough. Not nearly enough.
You left with no discussion. Every relationship needs work, ma fleur.
You weren't willing to work for us. But have no fear.
" He whispered sinisterly into her ear before amping up the speed of his fingers deep in her core.
Caressing a place so deep, she'd never even touched it. Only him.
Her orgasm raced forward, and she was powerless to stop it. Not that she wanted to. Quite the opposite, really. And just as she exploded into a powerful, mind-altering orgasm, he thrusted deep within her core. Adding even more pleasure to the waves rippling through her.
She was vocal in her pleasure. And she's sure that later it would mortify her to recall the sounds he conjured within her. But now? She cared for nothing but the passion he kindled deep inside her.
Distantly, she heard his words combining with her moans, mixing together and echoing all around her. As if he said them from a great distance away. Her mind scrambled, trying to make sense of the sounds she heard.
"Don't worry, ma fleur. I'll work hard enough for the both of us.
You'll never be free of me, ma fleur. You need to accept that.
" His words were guttural. He thrust so deeply within her, she could scarcely focus on anything else.
"Just as I accepted long ago that I will never be free of you.
" His final words were quiet, but in no way soft.
His words hung heavy in the air in the bathroom between them. Iris bit her lip as his thrusts sped up and lost their easy rhythm. His hips became more erratic, accentuated by deep, guttural groans that she could feel in her bones. Her eyes in the mirror were heavy, half closed.
Their combined bodies in the mirror were the most arousing image she'd ever seen.
Her, as naked as the day she was born. Him, fully clothed in his well-fitting suit.
His arms wrapped around her tightly, not letting even a spare inch of space between them.
Her eyes moved to take in his face, which he had buried in her neck.
What this man could do with his lips on her body should be illegal.
As she came down from her orgasm, his ministrations were almost too much for her over-sensitive body.
"Ricky..." she gasped out, unaware of what she was saying. Her mind retreating to the time when she submitted to him willingly. When he was her Ricky.
"That's right. Your Ricky," he groaned, mimicking her inner thoughts. That seemed to be too much for him, sending him over the edge and his arms tightened around her to just this side of pain as he found his completion.
In the aftermath, they were both breathless. But where she was boneless, kept upright by nothing but the counter and his arms, he was solid. His muscles seemed to be locked tight against her back. Sex seemed to have rejuvenated him, rather than relaxed him.
Typical.
Men like him always were. He barely slept, ate purely to fuel his body, and hyper focused on his present goal.
That's what made him a member of the ultra-successful.
A man who succeeded in all aspects of his life.
The Nash family was old money, much like the Blackworths.
Only much older. But generational wealth was frequently lost as it travelled down the family line.
Her parents were a prime example. They clearly had no idea how to manage a fortune, and so it began to dwindle.
Ash, her brother, tried hard, according to Nash, to salvage the family businesses and fortune, but he lacked the skills to do so.
Whereas Nash took control of his family business in his early twenties and in the subsequent years, he grew the family fortune to a level it had never seen before.
He was competent in all aspects of his life.
He wore his confidence like a mantle. Anyone who saw him immediately recognized his authority.
And as much as it pained her to admit, she was no exception.
Before, his confidence and alpha personality drew her to him.
She felt protected and cared for. And in moments like this, with his hulking form dwarfing her, it was easy to slip back into that mindset.
He was the first man she ever loved. And deep down, hidden in the very depths of her soul, she feared he was the only man she'd ever love.
His hand came up and smoothed her hair back from where it fell forward to cover her face. His eyes locked on hers in the mirror. "I think it's time that we go home. Don't you?" He murmured.
Her brow furrowed as she stared at him in confusion. "Home? We've only been here a few hours. Don't you need to be here?" Her words caused him to level a dark glare at her.
"I am the fucking boss, ma fleur. I make the rules." His hair tightened nearly imperceptibly in her hair. "If you think I'm going to let you go home without me while I sit here and do work I could do in my sleep, you're sorely mistaken."
Her eyes widened before he spun them away from the counter.
That wasn't what she meant. His hand grabbing hers up and tangling their fingers together as he lead her out of the bathroom.
She trailed behind him in his wake, confusion mixing with a pleasant lethargy brought on by the leg-numbing orgasm he just gave her.
As he pulled her into his large, richly furnished office, she gasped and tried to stop him.
"Nash! I'm naked!" She gasped out, trying to dig her heels into the hard tile of the bathroom floor. It was a useless effort. The only thing she got for her trouble was sore feet and high-pitched squeaks from where she was dragged forcefully over the smooth surface.
He did not so much as slow his pace, leading them both into the office. Him fully clothed, with nothing but unzipped trousers to show for what just transpired in the bathroom. Where she was stark naked, once again leaving all the power in his hands.
Did he do this on purpose? Was he planning on humiliating her? Making her sit naked in his office and earn her clothing back? Her heart beat erratically and her breaths came faster and faster.
"Nash!" she hollered, taking her other hand to smack him on the shoulder.
"My clothes! You brute! Let me go." Her eyes locked on the door that lead out into the hallway, where dozens of people were no doubt going about their day.
Anyone of them could open the door at any moment and see her.
Panic rose within, and she lost control of her faculties.
Launching herself at him and smacking, clawing at his hand, trying to free herself so she could flee to the safety of the bathroom.
He stopped and turned to look at her with a baffled expression.
As if she was a wild animal that he'd never seen before.
And couldn't comprehend what she was doing or why she was doing it.
He let go of her hand, but before she could make a run for it, both of his hands clasped onto her upper arms and he held her steady. His grip was firm, but not bruising.
"Do you honestly think that I would let anyone see you like this?
" His harsh words shocked her out of her episode.
She froze and blinked at him. "No one is allowed to see you, ma fleur.
This body is mine. Every inch of it is for my pleasure, my eyes, only.
You were uncomfortable in your other clothes, were you not?
" His words came out like an accusation, rather than a question.
As if her anxiety was a personal affront to him.
Did he expect her to just trust him? After everything that happened between them, trust was the furthest thing from her mind. She didn't know how to answer him, so she said nothing. Staring at him silently at a loss for what he wanted from her. His face dropped into a dark scowl.