Chapter 23 #3
My cheeks burn. This is a game we play, and I love it so. “Yes, sir.”
“Good girl.” He rewards me with a gentle sweep of his thumb over my cheek, and the praise sends a shiver down my spine. “Now come here. ”
He stands, extending his hand, and I take it without hesitation. My fingers look tiny in his scarred palm as he leads me down the hallway to the bathroom. The moment we're inside, he kicks the door shut and crowds me against it, his huge body caging me in.
“Fucking years of watching you, wanting you, touching myself to thoughts of you. You know how many times in the past year I came with your name on my lips, lass?”
Oh god. The image of this brutal, dangerous man stroking himself while thinking of me makes my knees weak.
“How many?” I whisper, grinning.
“Too many to count.” His hand slides under the sweatshirt, palming my bare breasts roughly. I stifle a whimper. “Every night. Sometimes twice a day, when I saw you in those little skirts you wear. Been celibate except for my own feckin’ hand, saving myself for you like a goddamn altar boy.”
I gasp as his thumb brushes my nipple. “Ashland?—”
“Do you understand what you've done to me?” His other hand grips my jaw, forcing me to meet his eyes. “What you are to me? You've ruined me, Bianca. Completely fucking ruined me for anyone else.”
“I'm sorry?—”
“Don't.” He kisses me hard, biting my bottom lip. “Don't apologize for being everything I need. For being mine. ”
He yanks the sweatshirt over my head, leaving me in just my panties, and the sound he makes is almost pained.
“Christ, look at you.” His hands are everywhere—cupping my breasts, squeezing my hips, sliding down to grip my ass. “Perfect. So fucking perfect it hurts to look at you.”
I reach for his shirt, but he catches my wrists, pinning them above my head with one massive hand. The position arches my back, pushing my breasts toward him, and his eyes go molten.
“No. I'm in charge tonight, lass. Tonight, you let me take care of you. Tonight, you give me control. Can you do that?”
My breath comes in short pants. “Yes,” I breathe out. He smacks my arse.
“Yes, what?” His grip tightens on my wrists.
“Yes… sir.” The word still feels foreign on my tongue, but the way his eyes flash tells me it was right.
“Fuck.” He releases my wrists. “Say it again.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Again.”
“Yes, sir, please?—”
He growls and hoists me up, my legs wrapping around his waist instinctively. I can feel how hard he is through his jeans, the thick ridge of his cock pressing against my core, and I grind against him without thinking.
“Greedy little thing, aren't you?” He carries me to the shower, already running and steaming. “So desperate for me. Bet you've been wet since I promised to eat this pretty cunt, haven't you?”
I whimper, burying my burning face in his neck.
“Answer me, Bianca.”
“Yes,” I admit, shame and arousal warring in my chest. “Yes, I've been wet.”
“Show me.”
He sets me down on the bathroom counter, and I stare at him, confused.
“Show me how wet you are for me. Touch yourself. Let me see.”
Oh god. Oh god.
My hands are shaking as I hook my fingers in my panties, but he stops me.
“Slow it down. I want to watch.”
I peel them down deliberately, and his eyes track every movement. When they're off, he takes them from me, brings them to his face, and inhales deeply. It’s so dirty, so wrong, and I fucking love it.
“Mmm, you smell so good.” He tosses them aside and grips my knees, spreading my legs wide. “There she is. Look how pretty and pink you are. All swollen and needy and wet.”
I'm trembling, completely exposed, and he hasn't even touched me yet.
“Touch yourself,” he orders again. “Show me how you do it when you're alone in bed, thinking about me.”
“I don't…”
His eyebrow rises. “You telling me you've never touched this sweet pussy?”
I bite my lip, and his expression turns feral.
“Touch yourself, love. Now.”
My hand trembles as I slide it between my legs, and the first touch of my fingers against my clit makes me gasp. I'm soaked, and I can see the satisfaction in his eyes.
“That's it. Circle that pretty clit for me. Slower, baby. Yeah, like that.”
I obey, my hips rolling into my own touch while he watches, his hand moving to palm himself through his jeans.
“Now inside. Want to see you fuck yourself with those tiny fingers.”
I slide one finger inside, then two, but the stretch isn't nearly enough, compared with what I know he could give me .
“You need more, don’t you?” He's reading my mind, the bastard. “Your little fingers can't fill you up the way you need. Like I could.”
“Please,” I whimper, working my fingers faster.
“Please, what?”
“Please touch me, Ashland.”
“What do you need, Bianca? Say it.”
“I need you!” The words burst out of me. “Take off your clothes and get in the damn shower?—”
He stalks over to me, and I slink back against the counter, stifling a giggle, before he spins me around and bends me over. His palm slaps my arse hard. “Tellin’ me what to do, are you?” But he nuzzles my neck and chuckles. “You naughty little thing, you like when I spank you, don’t you?”
I nod and arch my back, begging for another sharp slap. I moan when he delivers.
“Take my clothes off. I want to join you,” he whispers in my ear. I turn, and in a flurry of fabric, I lift his shirt, moaning as I drag my hands along the bare expanse of his chest. He slides off his jeans, and in seconds, we’re naked.
He moves so fast, lifting me off the counter and into the shower. The hot water hits my oversensitized skin, and I cry out, but he's already pressing me against the tile, his naked body pinning me against the wall .
“You need my cock?” His hand wraps around my throat, just holding, possessive. “This needy little cunt needs to be filled, is that it?”
“Yes, god, yes?—”
“Not yet.” He releases my throat and drops to his knees so fast the water splashes. “First, I'm going to eat this pussy until you're begging. Going to make you come so many times you forget how to think. Then I'll fuck you.”
He kneels, the stream of water pelting his broad back, steam rising around us, and he doesn't give me time to respond before his mouth is on me.
There's nothing gentle about it. He's devouring me like a man starved, his tongue flat and firm against my clit, licking in long strokes that make my legs shake. His hands grip my arse, holding me in place, keeping me open.
“Ashland, oh fuck, oh god?—”
My hands scrabble against the tile, finding no purchase, and he releases one of my arse cheeks to grab my wrist, placing my hand on his head.
“Hold on,” he orders against my pussy. “Ride my face. Use me.”
I do. God help me, I do. I grip his head and grind against his mouth shamelessly. He groans, the vibration making me whimper, and suddenly his fingers are there, two of them pushing inside me.
“Yes—”
“So fucking tight,” he mutters, working his fingers deeper. “Going to have to stretch you out good before you can take my cock again, aren't I? This perfect little cunt needs to be trained.”
I whimper and nod because why is that so hot ?
“Who do you belong to?”
“You. I belong to you.”
“Damn right you do.” He adds a third finger, and the stretch burns so good I could cry. “This pussy is mine. This arse is mine. These tits are mine. Every inch of you belongs to me, Bianca. Say it.”
“Every inch of me belongs to you.” I gasp, my walls clenching around his fingers.
“Good girl. Now let go. Come on my fingers and mouth, baby.”
He curls his fingers, finding that spot inside me, and latches back onto my clit. The combination is devastating—his fingers pumping, his mouth sucking, the hot water streaming over us—and I'm coming before I can even warn him.
“Ashland!” I scream his name, my whole body seizing, and he works me through it relentlessly. But he doesn't stop. Even as I'm still shaking from the first orgasm, he's building me toward another one.
“Can' t—too much?—”
“You can. You will.” His voice is merciless. “Going to make you come until you're wrecked. Until you're ruined. Until the only thing left in that pretty head is my name.”
He's ruthless, pushing me higher and higher, and when the second orgasm hits, it's even more intense than the first. I'm actually crying, overwhelmed by sensation and emotion and the sheer intensity of what he's making me feel.
“That's two,” he says, almost conversational, though his voice is wrecked. “Think you can give me one more before I fuck you?”
“I can't?—”
“Yes, you can. Be my good girl, Bianca. One more.”
He stands, keeping his fingers inside me, and captures my mouth in a brutal kiss. I can taste myself on his tongue, and it should be embarrassing, but it's just hot, dirty, and perfect.
His thumb finds my clit, rubbing tight circles, and his other hand wraps around my throat again.
“Look at me,” he commands. “Eyes on me when you come.”
I force my eyes open, meeting his storm-cloud gaze, and the intimacy of it, of being seen like this, vulnerable and wrecked and completely his, pushes me over the edge again .
The third orgasm is different. Slower, deeper, rolling through me in waves that seem endless. I hold his gaze the whole time, tears streaming down my face, and something passes between us—something profound and terrifying and absolutely right.
“There she is,” he murmurs, gathering me close as I shake apart. “There's my girl.”
I'm boneless and trembling as he turns off the water with one hand while supporting me with the other. He wraps me in a towel and carries me to the bedroom, laying me down on the bed like I'm fragile.
I watch through heavy-lidded eyes as he lets the towel drop. I can’t help but stare. He’s thick and long, already leaking at the tip.
He crawls over me, caging me in. “I've stretched you out nice and good. You'll take me.”
He notches himself at my entrance, and I tense. Why am I so nervous?
“Relax,” he soothes, kissing my jaw, my neck. “Trust me. I've got you.”
He pushes in slowly, so slowly, and the stretch is intense. I can feel every inch of him, thick and hard and unrelenting, filling me up until I'm gasping.
“Fuck, you feel incredible.” He groans. “Hot and tight and perfect. Made for me, weren't you? ”
“Yes…” I breathe, adjusting to the fullness. “Made for you.”
He stills, giving me time to adjust, his forehead pressed to mine.
“I've dreamed about this. About being inside you. About making you mine.”
I cup his scarred face in my hands. “I'm yours. I've always been yours.”
His expression softens to raw and vulnerable, and then he's moving. Long, deep strokes hit something devastating inside me, and I'm already building toward another orgasm.
“That's it, love. Take every inch of this cock. Show me how good you can be for me.”
I wrap my legs around his waist, letting him go deeper, and he curses.
“Not going to last,” he grits out. “You feel too fucking good.”
“Then don't.” I pull him down for a kiss. “Come inside me. Make me yours.”
He groans like I've gutted him and starts moving faster, harder, the bed frame rocking against the wall.
“Shh,” I say, stifling a laugh. “Your cousins—your aunt, your uncle…”
“No one will hear us up here.”
His hand slides between us, finding my clit, and I'm coming again, clenching around him so hard he groans.
“Bianca— fuck .”
He buries himself deep and comes, and I can feel him pulsing inside me, filling me, marking me from the inside out. He’s muttering Irish endearments, my name, and words that sound like prayers.
Finally, he collapses on top of me, careful not to crush me, and I hold him tight. We're both breathing hard, damp and warm, and I've never felt more complete.
“I love you,” I whisper into his ear. “I love you so much it scares me.”
He lifts his head, and there are actual tears in his eyes. “I love you more than I knew it was possible to love another person. You've unmade me, lass. Completely fuckin’ unmade me.”
He kisses me softly this time. “Mine,” he murmurs against my lips.
“Yours,” I agree. “ Always yours.”