“I want you to say how much you need me… want me, pet. This belongs to me now.” Gavin bends over my back and growls into my ear as he flicks his fingers between my legs. His cock twitches in rhythm with his hand, emphasizing just what he is laying claim to. Keeping quiet, I fall back into the rhythm of sensations that have me at the precipice again, which he senses and comes to a halt.
“Ohh, please let me come!” slips from my tongue in an angered, begging fashion before I can stop it.
“Not until you say it,” he says in an unyielding tone.
My head begins to shake no, earning me an abrupt sheathing into the ass. I cry out in discomfort but refuse to use the safe word. It is not needed. This strange position has me heated in new ways I want to know more about and my strong will won’t have it any other way. The pain is invigorating and has me dripping.
Glancing over my shoulder, his mask of sheer concentration reigns as he forces his body to still, allowing me to adjust to his size. Something about the strain written there mixed with his whole demeanor makes me feel cherished, cared for in a way no lover has.
The subtle pulsations from his lively cock ignite another yearning within that I cannot control. Agony and desire, a taste I never knew I couldn’t live without. I need more. Shoving my hips down and into him, I clench hard, drawing more of the exquisite sensations forward.
“Fuck! Sorcha, you are a bad, bad girl. God, do you have any idea what you do to me?” he groans, his mask of control cracking as he pulls out and eases back inside, letting the bratty behavior go. It is not enough; I need more, more stretching with the subtle burn that took the tingling pleasure in my loin to new heights, causing me to feel like I am floating on drugs.
Slamming my hips back again earns me a hard slap on the ass in warning. Stunned, I pause and give it thought as the sting blooms over my skin and quickly subsides into something completely else; I wiggle my backend a bit to understand the effect it had on me. Jesus, that felt…amazing.
“Fuck me, your skin pinks up to perfection. You will be the end of me, pet.” He slowly pulls out and goes back in a little bit faster, but not near fast or hard enough. If he is trying to be careful, he needs to stop, I am a big girl who apparently needs a big bite.
“Harder, Sir, please!” I beg, tears brimming in my eyes once more in frustration and need.
“Kinky little thing, aren’t you? I told you, until you say it, we will do this my way, even if you challenge my self-control.” Gavin grunts as sweat beads down from his slicked skin, hitting my back.
As he pulses back into me, I drive back on his shaft, earning another swat. “Yes!” I holler.
“So, you like that. You know how I best like to deal with pain sluts? Orgasm denial,” he warns with an edge that makes the little hairs on the back of my neck perk up.
Confliction over my dislike over the word slut coming out and my selfish need to have my desires filled tugs at my brain but inevitably, I still and take his slowly building onslaught.
Gavin has pushed me further than I have ever gone, deeper into emotional and sensational overload than I knew to be possible. His speed finally reaches a point that has me ready to dive into a blinding orgasm. His respiration rate, the increased throbbing of his cock, and barely perceptible trembling tells me he is close as well. I smile at the thought. He abruptly stops and rests his damp forehead between my shoulder blades, both hands clamped on my hips.
“Why did you stop?” I cry out in a piercing octave, frustrated at the denial as I am yanked back from orgasm again.
“Because I am too close. Hold still!” he commands in a breathy bellow, halting my greedy, rolling hips with his hands. He pulses in and out a few more strokes, then stops again. The torture and overwhelming need finally get the better of me. I can’t take it anymore; I would rather walk through the pits of hell barefoot than lose this orgasm.
“Please, Master Gavin, I need you!” I relent in a most unbecoming sob of defeat, the brimming tears now falling down my cheeks and onto the sheets. He digs his fingers into my hips and dives into me with one fierce swing of his hips, causing us to simultaneously shatter together in one blissful, exasperated explosion. We fall to the bed, our match of wills wiping us out while my surrender kisses the air around us with a bittersweet taste. The more we push and yield, the deeper we connect, and the more threatened our beloved ways of life become.
Gavin finally catches his breath enough to gently ease out of me; I wince in soreness and lose all will to move after it subsides, his dick and sadism reducing me to a pulp.
“Pet, let’s shower,” he coos, taking my hand in his, stroking the soft flesh with his slightly calloused one.
“Don’t think I can walk,” I rasp and allow the drugged feeling to pull me under, closer to sleep.
Snickering in pride, he shifts away, lifts me off the mattress and carries me into the bath. The act rips me from the blissful state I had been floating in. Never having had anyone tend to me in this intimate manner, I stare at him in shock and uncertainty as he starts the water and sets me into the hot shower. Soaping my loofa, he takes his time washing me. Unable to take it anymore, I bat him away, grab my hair clip out of the shower caddy, and pin my hair back before taking the scrubber from him and beginning to finish the job.
“You don’t like me caring for you? It is my privilege.” Gavin seems highly offended that I denied him this one small task.
“Possibly, but it feels too intimate. I know you lot believe in aftercare and all, thank you for the thought, but the bones are returning to my legs.”
He snatches the sponge back, turning me around to tend to my back and sore bum. “Get used to it. You are mine, and I will care for you as I see fit,” he bites out, pissed. The claiming warms my heart and scares the shit out of me. After washing me thoroughly, he glides the soap over his impeccable physique. I stand there, paralyzed, watching.
As he looks up at me from under the spray, a smile plays on his lips. “Like what you see?” he teases.
Huffing, I turn on my heel and climb out, towel off and brush my teeth. Leaving a towel on the counter for him, I head to bed. It is not long before he climbs in next to me, pulling my begrudging form against him.
“Why are you so upset all of a sudden? You were far from it moments ago.”
“I was happily floating along in a buzzed state until you laid claim on me. If you are dropping sentiments like that this soon, then you will not be able to hold up the no-strings arrangement. Buzz killed.” Sleep calls me, my eyes becoming heavy. If I wasn’t so tired, I would kick him out.
“Sorcha, I apologize. After that drugging experience with you, all I wanted to do was care for you. It is my right as a male.”
“Goodnight, Gavin.” I yawn as I drift off, unable to put up a fight.
Chapter 7
Sorcha
Monday afternoon’s stream of sunlight through my bedroom window is wonderful as I rise and happily dress in my faded jeans and favorite t-shirt, ready to get to the studio. Lost in my own thoughts of a new, mounting idea that I can’t wait to manifest and unused to sleepovers, I momentarily forgot about my guest. That is until he pops out from the kitchen in low-slung jeans, no shirt, bare feet and holding two cups of coffee. My heart stops in my chest as this morning’s events register with my more-alert brain.
“Good morning, sunshine.” He slams me with a blinding smile that restarts my still heart.
Taking the cup offered, I narrow my eyes at him in deep thought. An innocent look jumps back at me as he tries to understand.
“What?”
“You, me, this… I am not sure is going to work. Looks like my sister will win the pot,” I mumble before I catch myself. Why am I being so difficult?
“Care to explain?” A dangerous expression sweeps across his face, not allowing me to escape.
Hitching my breath after a slew of cuss words that increased the darkening displeasure on his mug, I quickly replay the confessions at linner.
“Less than a week? You think this is over already?” His pained expression couldn’t have come across more hurtful than if I had spit on him.
“You are getting too attached already. I will be claimed by no one but myself. I am sorry, Gavin.”
“Be as sorry as you want. I am not going anywhere. You haven’t given this a fair chance. After the joint ascension we shared last night, I don’t think you honestly believe that either.” His tattoo catches my eye as the skin becomes taut in aggression. It becomes increasingly difficult to keep focused on what was fueling my adamant destruction of the budding union.
“You said if I wanted to call it off at any time, you would walk away. Now, who is threatening the truth and honesty in this- whatever this is.”
“This is a relationship. Yes, I said it. The only threat to it is you. Do you think I like this anymore than you do? I can’t remember the last time I even thought about wanting only one, committing to only one. Let me rephrase that─ I have never committed to anyone. Then you come along, with that smart little mouth and tight ass that wet dreams are made of and make me forget who I am and what drives me. No, you don’t get to do that to someone and walk away that easily.”
He stops in front of me, chest and abs pushing into my breasts, my nipples responding instantly through my shirt. “See─” He traces a finger around the hardened flesh straining through layers of fabric. “You are so responsive to me it is maddening. You are mine, Sorcha, and the sooner you realize it, the easier you will make it on both of us. I gotta go to work. I will be seeing you tonight. You can bet that sweet little ass of yours on it.”
∞
After checking on Jade and her husband at the hospital, and working late at the studio, I teeter home on weak, sore legs and fuzzy eyes. Last night was momentous in many ways, not to mention a bit life altering. Then, going in to spend a good many hours filtering through negatives and developing photos over and over by hand until they are perfect is downright draining. It was a much-needed stress relief though. Seeing Jade that sad and the love of her life laid up with cancer eating away at his insides wore away at my heart. I’ve never understood her need to settle down at what I consider to be a young age. We asked her up until the day she was married what the rush was.
Mid-thirties always seemed like a good age to me to start setting aside childish wants and games to begin to serious up your life. Granted, the big 3-0 was just around the corner for me and the idea of settling down in just a few years still seemed too soon.
However, the more time you spend around Jade and her husband, the more you are liable to lose your heart by being swept away in the magic of undying love, adoration and romance. The way those two look at each other is Hallmark-card worthy.
Gavin might have a point. If life is as short as it is, why not spend it with someone who makes you happy? We barely know each other even though our bodies seem made for one another; but we have things in common like our life-long tendencies of self-devotion and being cut from much of the same cloth.
I know I am not being fair, but rarely did this lass like to play by the rules. If I had bothered to take the time to sit down and tell my dear best friend, Jade, about this situation she would have slapped me across the face and asked if I was daft. But I haven’t been able to talk to her yet about all of this. She has been going through enough. Jade never has been able to understand why I avoid giving anyone a chance, much less love with as much conviction as she. If I thought about it abstractly, the mere idea of never seeing Gavin again did cause my heart to leap into my throat. Odd. Perhaps, that is because of a developing and unhealthy addiction to him and what he has shown me. How could there be more? Everything has been rooted in sex for us; there is little substance to that.
There have been suspicions about my kinky side, but I have never had the balls to explore it or have met someone I am comfortable enough with to do so either. He relished in it while urging me to open up, and that made it even better. But we’ve never even had a proper meal together, how do I know we will even get along outside of the bedroom? Sex isn’t everything in a relationship. Fuck, there’s that damn word again- relationship. My tongue clicks on the roof of my mouth as if trying to remove a bad taste.
Making it to my hallway, I see him sitting on the ground, next to my front door, reading a magazine with a brown paper bag next to him that smells convincingly like Chinese food.
“Is that─?”
“Yup.”
“You talked to, Samuel, again.” I frown, knowing my friend sold me and my favorite dish out.
“Yes, he was concerned about you. I guess you had a real sour puss on all night at work last night.”
“Come on then.” I invite him in while disregarding any mention of anyone’s attitude. Persistent asshole, I will give him that.
We eat until our bellies are full and sip on beer while exchanging minor pleasantries and watching a recording of my new favorite show, The Knick. Beat, and wanting to go to bed, I get up to take something for my backside and ready for bed without bothering to kick him out. Like a stray dog that’s been given a meal, he will just come back.
“You’re not kicking me out?”
“Why bother? Plus, I strangely enjoy sleeping next to a warm body.” Who knew? Climbing into the soft, inviting haven, I leave him to do as he pleases. After my disgruntled attitude this morning, there is no need to push the man. A strange surge of happiness fills my chest when his weight finally settles next to me.
“You haven’t spent the night with anyone before?” his deep voice inquires in the darkness.
“No, another first for Captain America.”
“Referencing me as a superhero might go to my head.” He pulls me in and spoons me with his all-encompassing figure. My body betrays my resolve by instantly melting into him.
“Which one? Your ego is large enough, so that must mean you have action-figure wet dreams?” I snicker. An aggressive palm finds my ample bottom and lands a hard smack before smoothing over it and rubbing down my thigh, sending a rush of heat to pool in my belly and a small moan to inadvertently escape my lips.
“My wet dreams consist of only a taste of what you have experienced by my hand, pet.”
The mood suddenly shifts from a pleasant, relaxing evening with a non-threatening friend to a darkened vortex with a dominating force that speeds up my pulse and excites my nerve endings. No longer feeling tired, but rather naughty, I push my hips back into his length.
“Jesus, Sorcha, you will be my undoing,” he breathes before sliding over top of me and hungrily taking my mouth. That is all it takes before we are wrapped up into another mad, passionate session.
Something tells me that how he is with me is different than how he normally carries himself in the bedroom. I start to wonder why that might be before my attention is snapped back to matters at hand as he finishes putting on a condom and gives me the look of a predator through the beams of moonlight streaming in.
After another night of scintillating experiences, my body wakes before the alarm and the urge to make breakfast takes over. While not a domestic goddess like my sister, I know my way around the basics. As I put the last of the bacon in the pan to fry, Gavin’s tall figure comes into view with a sexy grin and bed head that is entirely too becoming.
“I never expected this.”
“What, that I could cook?”
“That you would cook for me.”
“Keep laying it on me like you did last night, and who knows what I am capable of doing,” I laugh in a lighthearted manner as I turn the crisping meat. He comes to stand behind me, hands on my hips, and nuzzles my neck.
“My sentiments exactly,” he says, his words dampened by my flesh.
“Easy there, one shouldn’t distract me when I am searing flesh,” I chortle.
He chuckles and backs off to make the coffee, sweats slung low on his hips in a mouthwatering fashion. “Let me guess, I am the first man you have ever made breakfast for?” He smiles in an anticipatory wa
y.
“Nope.” I leave him hanging long enough to see the effects register on his now unhappy face. What is with him? It isn’t like I am some innocent young thing. “I’ve cooked for my dad,” I finish with a wink, calling him out on his unspoken jealousy, which causes his plump lips to draw down in a tight line in realization of what had just happened.
“Can I ask you a more personal question?”
“Sure, I guess,” I answer, weariness settling in my reply.
“How about bare-backing?” he nonchalantly inquires. It feels as if someone has sucked the air out of the room by his intimate intrusion into my sexual practices.
“I’ve done it once, and I almost fell off the damn horse,” I joke in an attempt to avoid him.
“You know what I mean.” His dominant side lines his words as his brow knits together.
“No. Statistically, it does not make sense to play such a game of roulette.” I glare back at him.
“Statistically?” he asks, humor at my choice of words evident in his eyes.
“Yes, smart ass. Statistically speaking, the chance of catching an unwanted friend, or, sexually transmitted infection or STI or STD as it was formally known does not play in favor of those who don’t engage in monogamous relationships.” An exasperated huff escapes my lips.
“It’s true then,” he says as a statement rather than a question.
“What is?” I am confused.
“You are a brainy gem who really is a doctor.”
“How do you know that from one little rant?” My heart sinks. He doesn’t need to know about that. Can’t a girl keep some things to herself?
“I read people, gift and a curse. I didn’t believe it at first when I read it in the report, but I didn’t care enough to inquire further. I did find myself asking why a doctor was working in a bar, but left well enough alone.”
Scrupulous (An Affliction of Falling Novel Book 1) Page 10
