The Greatest Risk

by Kristen Ashley

  She arrived back to him seeing he’d righted his pants and wishing he hadn’t.

  But that was not her choice.

  And God but she liked it like that.

  Because she’d get it back, but only when he was ready to give it to her.

  She lifted up on her knees slightly spread, gave him the plug, put her hands where he wanted them and did what he’d told her to do.

  Only then did she look right into his eyes and say clearly, “Yes, Master.”

  His face shifted to a pure beauty of vicious possession as another sound came from him, low again, deep, and this time feral as he took her mouth in a hard, wet kiss at the same time he reached around and drove her plug up her ass.

  And there was no way around it no matter how she might want to look at it or how hard her subconscious was trying to make her escape from it.

  In that moment she knew it.

  She.

  Was.

  Claimed.

  His lips slid from hers to her ear.

  “It’s time to see how my Simone reacts to being restrained,” he whispered there.

  She shivered, top to toe.

  And she could swear she felt his smile against her ear.

  * * *

  Stellan was fucking her face again, and eating her, while she was tied on her back to his bed with black silk sashes, wrists and ankles, both spread wide.

  Sixx was watching his plugged ass move as he thrust into her mouth and ate her out, in the throes of agony since he’d played with her pussy to orgasm, and again, and again, then fucked it to his orgasm (and another of hers), so it was excruciatingly sensitive.

  And that was after he’d fucked her tits and come all over them.

  With a soft grunt sounding intimately against that exact sensitivity, he came down her throat, and she scrambled to swallow as he ordered, “Now,” before he sucked hard on her clit, then licked over it, drove his tongue inside, and she came in his mouth.

  She shuddered lazily through her climax, focusing more on milking his cum from his cock, so gone, lost in the scene, lost to him, it was almost like it was happening to an alternate Sixx, and she was out of body, watching it.

  He’d done what he’d promised, and she was covered in his seed—ass, cunt, breasts, belly—and now it was down her throat.

  He took her with him over the edge each time, and then some, so now she was spent, lax under him, her pussy quivering against his laving tongue, her mouth nursing his cock.

  Eventually he gently slid out, and she lay there unmoving for him as he slipped the knot on each wrist, each ankle, then positioned between her legs, lowered his body to hers and murmured his command.

  “Arms and legs around me, darling.”

  Like she was in a dream, her limbs drifted to do as she was told.

  “Are you even conscious?” he asked, and at the teasing lilt to his voice, she focused on him (mildly).

  “I think so,” she answered.

  “We’re done playing, Simone, though you keep the plug until morning, and you won’t be washing me away.”

  “Okay by me, hot stuff,” she muttered and felt her most favorite feeling in the world.

  Yes, after multiple orgasms and mind-shattering sexual play, what she felt right then was still her favorite.

  His body was shaking against hers with his quiet laughter.

  That made her focus on him a lot less mild.

  His fingers came to her jaw, his thumb moving over her cheek to the corner of her lip, along the lower one, and back as he studied her face.

  “You okay?” she asked softly, seeing his face was sated, relaxed, content, but feeling something … off.

  “You slipped right into role this time.”

  She grinned at him, giving him her own tease, “Miss Sixx?”

  His thumb halted and his eyes grew intense on hers.

  His did not hide he was startled.

  “I’m sorry?” he asked.

  In the peace of the aftermath of a beautiful scene, suddenly, her insides grew cold.

  “I don’t … well, it’s…” she stammered, drew in a breath and said, “Of course you don’t miss her. I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

  “She’s not gone.”

  Sixx stared up at him.

  He continued, “She’s right here, where she’s always been. Where she’ll always be. She’s not going anywhere. She’s you.”

  “I thought you wanted—”

  “I want you. You. And you’re Sixx.”

  “But Simone—”

  “There is no distinction, honey. I call you one name. Others call you another. But in the end, they’re one in the same.”

  His words were freaking her out so much her hands went from resting on his back to pushing in between them, not to force him away but to find warmth.

  “Sweetheart?” he called questioningly.

  She couldn’t be both.

  It was one.

  And it was never supposed to be the other.

  But she was out.

  She was his.

  Simone was his.

  As was Sixx.

  They just weren’t one in the same.

  They couldn’t be. How could she protect Simone … protect him … if they were?

  But there was no denying it, not anymore.

  They were both out.

  They were both his.

  They were both who she was.

  Two halves made whole.

  His fingers moved back to cup her behind her ear, the pads carefully digging in and even the tone of his voice communicated his concern when he said, “Simone.”

  “I think I really kind of need to just … pass out,” she told him lamely.

  “That was too intense,” he declared.

  “I’m…” Her head twitched. “Sorry?”

  “That scene, it was too intense.”

  “It was fine, Stellan.”

  “It asked a lot of you.”

  “No more than I’ve seen you ask of any of your subs.”

  “You aren’t any of my subs, Simone. You’re you, the woman in my bed, my home, my life. This is just a part of what we have, and we’re getting to know each other in that way, and that scene was asking too much.”

  She was confused. “I can’t imagine how.”

  “It required the strength of Sixx with the openness and acceptance of Simone. They are one in the same. But you clearly don’t know that yet, so introducing you to yourself through fucking you was not the way to go.”

  She was still confused.

  “But … didn’t you do that last Sunday?”

  “No, I broke Sixx last Sunday. Sixx submitted to me last Sunday. I didn’t have Simone last Sunday. I didn’t have her tonight. Tonight, I had it all.”

  He did.

  She’d given him it all.

  He moved suddenly, rolling off of her but hooking her with an arm like he was going to drag her out of bed.

  All of a sudden panicked, she clamped on and cried, “Wait!”

  Stellan lifted a hand and cupped her jaw. “We’re showering and then we’re—”

  “No!” she exclaimed desperately, pushing into him with her body, wrapping her arms back around him, holding on tight.

  She couldn’t lose what he’d given her that night.

  She couldn’t lose what she had of him.

  She couldn’t lose what she’d given of herself.

  “Darling—”

  She shook her head where it was resting on the pillow. “I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to wash you away.”

  His voice went supremely tender. “Simone, we need to exit this scene completely. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

  “No.” Sixx kept shaking her head. “We can’t. I want to keep it. Don’t make me lose it.”

  He studied her face so acutely she couldn’t handle it, shoved it in his throat and held him even tighter.

  “Let’s just go to sleep, baby,” she whispered there. “Can we just
go to sleep?”

  He hesitated before he replied quietly, “We can, darling. But before we do, I need you to take the plug from me.”

  She nodded, moving her hand toward his ass.

  She didn’t get there before he murmured, “Will you kiss me while you do it?”

  At the request, being an actual request, from Stellan, so quiet, so beautiful, her hand stopped, her eyes closed, and her heart wrung out like someone was squeezing the blood from it.

  It did this only for it to be let go so new, clean, uncontaminated blood could pump through it, through her veins, through her entire body.

  She tipped her head back and caught his gaze before she moved in to take his mouth and slid her hand to his backside.

  She took the plug from him slowly, gently, absorbing his corresponding purrs in her mouth as he took her tongue and sucked sweetly at it when he’d been released.

  He ended the kiss, kissed her chin, her nose, then pulled carefully away, taking the plug from her before he left their bed.

  She curled her legs into her belly and watched him walk to the bathroom.

  He was not gone long, and he made short work of turning the lights out around the room when he returned.

  He then rejoined her in bed, immediately pulling her into his arms, over his body, so she was straddling his thigh, her forehead in his neck, his hand at her ass, his other arm holding her close to him around her back.

  “Sleep, Simone,” he urged softly.

  She nodded against his skin, staring at the shadows of his chest and shoulder, but she knew sleep would not come.

  In the dark, held by Stellan, covered with him, filled by him, she looked back at their time together and realized it had happened long before that night.

  And because of that, she had no choice but to make a decision.

  So she did.

  This decision did not make sleep any easier.

  In fact, it was just the opposite.

  She also knew Stellan did not sleep, probably feeling her awake, sensing her disquiet, but oh-so-Stellan, not prodding at it.

  He was like that and would not rest knowing she could not.

  This should have made her decision easier to take.

  It did not.

  But no matter how difficult it was, for the both of them, she had to carry it out without delay.

  They had tonight.

  And tomorrow …

  Tomorrow would be whatever it would be.

  Though she knew what it would be, and she hoped the night never ended.

  But Sixx had learned a long time ago not to hope for impossible things.

  That night would end. They always did.

  And then it would be tomorrow.

  On that thought, Sixx fell into an uneasy sleep.

  Only then did Stellan join her there.

  eighteen

  Dynamic Duo

  SIXX

  Sixx woke the next morning to an empty bed.

  She didn’t panic. Stellan was good at giving her space. Especially after things got intense.

  Although she didn’t panic about that, her belly felt like it was filled with lead, her body like it was encased in concrete, and it was without a doubt the hardest thing she’d ever done in her life, rolling out of that bed.

  When she made it to the bathroom, she saw a cup of coffee on the warmer, but other than that, nothing. No lingerie. No note.

  Pure Stellan.

  He was worried about her, so he was not going to take them there.

  That morning it would be Simone and Stellan, maybe a day of movies, or going shopping, or perhaps driving up to Prescott to spend the day out of the heat.

  Whatever she wanted.

  Whatever she needed.

  Yes, God yes, what she had to do was the worst thing she’d ever had to do in her life.

  But it had to be done.

  She slid out his plug, washed it, and set it on the towel laid out on the counter next to the one he’d cleaned last night.

  His and hers plugs.

  It was the woman she was, it was the couple they were, that made the sight of their shared intimacy set her nearly to collapsing in uncontrollable tears.

  Instead, she did something else she didn’t want to do.

  She got in the shower and washed him away.

  When she got out, she lotioned up (it was Phoenix—in that dry climate, no matter what was happening, you couldn’t miss that step). But she didn’t do makeup or perfume or fashion her hair into adorably fuckable.

  She would go to him as she was. Simone “Sixx” Marchesa.

  Bared.

  Real.

  She moved out to the bedroom, right to the end of the bed.

  Sixx stood by the tee Stellan had left on the floor and deliberated far too long on whether to nab it or put her own clothes on.

  In the end, she was selfish.

  She needed it, needed some part of him near, so she bent and grabbed it, pulled it on, went to the walk-in and got a pair of panties.

  She slid them up. Stood there. Took a deep breath. Then another. And a third.

  Only then did she set about doing what she had to do.

  She went to the drawer where she’d hidden them under some clothes.

  And she retrieved them.

  All of them.

  She then walked into the bathroom, got her coffee, walked into the bedroom, through it, and left the room.

  On the way down the stairs, she saw him out on the patio, in his chair, with his coffee cup, staring at his pool. Shoulders wide, bared and tan. Dark hair still messy from sleep.

  Her heart slid right up into her throat.

  She swallowed it down, set her coffee mug on the island, and went to the library.

  One last bit.

  She got what she went there to get, stacked it at the back of the pile she had, and held them all to her chest.

  She did not stop again to take more breaths.

  She had to do this and do it now, or she wouldn’t.

  So she moved quickly, directly back to the great room, to the doors to the back deck.

  The second she opened the door, Stellan twisted in his seat to look at her, and her heart started pounding, her throat closing tight.

  He was just so beautiful.

  So, so beautiful.

  She closed the door behind her and moved toward him, seeing his gaze had dropped to what she was holding against her chest, and his handsome face had changed.

  It had frozen.

  But his body hadn’t.

  He got up and moved free of the chair to stand at its side in his burgundy drawstring pants from the night before. His glorious, powerful chest was bare. The waistband of the pants was hanging so low on his hips they were hanging almost negligently, the weight of the drawstring dipping to the point the curves of muscles that formed a V to highlight his pubis were exposed, and the very top of his dark pubic hair peeked over.

  Like that, in all his considerable glory, he watched her make her way to him, making that journey the most painful one she’d ever made.

  “Darling—” he whispered when she stopped close.

  “Don’t,” she whispered back.

  His eyes were burning, and she couldn’t stand the heat.

  So she pushed the sketchbooks away from her and into his chest.

  Instantly, his arms rose and wrapped around them.

  Carefully.

  Lovingly.

  God.

  She started trembling as she stared up into beautiful blue eyes that had gone bright with unshed wet.

  He didn’t know.

  He had no idea.

  This was touching him deeply.

  But Christ, knowing what she knew, what he’d soon find out, it was killing her.

  “Come find me when you’re done,” she said softly. “I want a chance to explain.”

  It was guttural when he started, “Simone—”

  “You might hate me when you have it all.”

  �
�I’ll never hate you,” he whispered.

  She shook her head. “Don’t say that now. You can’t say that now.” She dipped her chin to indicate the books. “I can’t be around when you read them. But I’ll be waiting.”

  With that, as fast as she could, she turned on her foot and left him.

  It would take him a long time, she knew. There were twelve of them, pages sized eighteen-by-twenty-four, seventy sheets.

  A lot of life.

  A lot of hideousness.

  So much ugly.

  Now in Stellan’s hands.

  Even so, she had to prepare so she didn’t chicken out during phase two of losing Stellan forever, but before what she gave him made him let her go, she’d help him to understand fully why he needed to so he could be free.

  Therefore, she went back up to the bedroom and got her LV cruiser bag.

  She took it down to the library, set it on the big, round, frost-blue upholstered ottoman with its carved wood base that was at the center of the four, buttery-caramel-leather, nailhead-framed chairs. Stately. Classy. Inviting.

  Stellan.

  She left the room. Back in the kitchen, she warmed up her coffee, grabbed her laptop and phone, and headed back, not once looking at Stellan out on the deck.

  She settled into a chair and opened up her laptop, logging in, beginning to do some digging on Josh Coates, owner of one-third of the Bolt.

  She didn’t get very far.

  Instead, her mind wandered, and she looked around the room, taking in the interesting ironwork around the cream sheets of glass on the chandelier. The rich, wood, inset shelving with their sconces in between with single, tapered candles in them. The built-in architect’s lamps over each set of shelves. The window seat in the wood-framed bay with its thick toss pillows.

  The room was big, but it seemed cozy, welcoming, like the rest of the house. It could so easily be overwhelming, austere, intimidating. But it wasn’t.

  Like Stellan.

  At a glance, he was so visibly physically superior, he was daunting.

  But the deeper you got inside, the warmth enveloped you, permeating you, drawing you further in, showing you the way home.

  She forced her mind back to Coates and kept it there long enough she had to go get herself another cup of coffee. She did and again did not look at Stellan before she headed back to the library.

  Sixx had totally given up on Coates, as well as starting to dig into Barclay Richardson and Pete Beardsley, his two partners, her mug was empty, her eyes were aimed and staring vacantly out the window, but even lost to the nothingness she’d forced in her head in order to deal with what was to come, she still sensed his approach.