Thousands

by Pepper Winters

  We weren’t free to do this here.

  We weren’t alone.

  We weren’t safe.

  It was the only thing that saved her.

  Saved me.

  With a feral groan, I pulled away. My breathing was wild, my cock punching the waistband of my trousers. All I wanted to do was take her. Over and over again. The obsession had sparked, and no way in hell was I satisfied from one kiss.

  I wouldn’t be satisfied from one touch or thrust.

  I wouldn’t be satisfied until we both passed out from sexual exhaustion.

  That can’t happen.

  I couldn’t hurt her in that way.

  Sitting up, I cradled my head in my hands, digging fingers into my temples to hold off the addiction.

  The cushions shifted as Pim moved from lying to sitting. She didn’t touch me even though I tensed for it. For the longest moment, she stared while I kept my eyes locked on the rose and gold carpet beneath my shiny leather dress shoes.

  Our kiss was a living, breathing thing, far too alive and just waiting for a spark to rekindle.

  My muscles begged me to grab her and finish what we started. Screw the fact that this wasn’t our home. Fuck the fact that hundreds of guests partied down the hall.

  But I couldn’t because who knew what state I’d be in if I let go. If someone heard Pim’s screams when I took her again and again. If a Hawk family member had to break down their own door to save Pim from my addictive rutting.

  The pain of not having her was brutal. But it was better than the pain of taking her with no way of stopping.

  Pim rustled beside me, but I didn’t look. I focused on the swirls of gold thread, following the handmade carpeting—

  But then the carpeting was obscured by red and blue satin as Pim slid to her knees in front of me, ducked beneath the cage of my arms and wrapped hers around my neck. “You just told me you’re in love with me, and you only kiss me once?” Her voice caressed my lips as she added strength to her touch, guiding me down toward her. “Is kissing me such a bad—”

  It was my turn not to let her finish.

  My arms lashed forward, crushing her to me as my lips crashed against hers.

  She moaned as I dragged her closer, her on her knees before me, the couch digging into her belly as I dragged her harder between my legs.

  This kiss was wilder than the last. And she knew why. She knew my self-control had broken before and only a quick patch up of glue remained. I had precisely three seconds to kiss her before I had to break away.

  One second, I kissed her deep and loving.

  Second second, I kissed her rough and condemning.

  Third second, I kissed her savage and begging.

  Then I pulled away and pushed her away at the same time.

  I managed to do it.

  I kept my promise.

  I pinched my eyes closed so I wouldn’t see the red wetness of her mouth or the flushed desire on her skin. I kept them shut so I wouldn’t lock onto everything I wanted and say fuck off to the consequences.

  Even without vision, it didn’t stop her breath from hitting my ears with rampant need or her voice wobbling with lust. “Please, El...don’t stop.”

  I swallowed a tattered groan. “Don’t ask me that, little mouse.”

  Her small hands landed on my thighs, wrenching every sinful craze to the surface. “Please, El...” Her fingers slid up the silkiness of my tux trousers, not teasing or slowing as she cupped my erection and squeezed the twin aches of agony beneath it. “I’m telling you not to stop.”

  My fingers latched brutally around her hand. I meant to shove her away. I meant to chide her and stand up. I meant to end this.

  Instead, I pressed her hand harder against me, making me hiss with how goddamn good it felt.

  She rocked against me, her fingers fluttering with maddening intoxication.

  My eyes flared wide, my jaw clenched tight, the first wave of release rippled up my length. “Stop, Pim.” Even as I gave the command, I kept her hand locked against my cock, digging her touch deeper into me, finding punishment and pleasure.

  “You stop.” She panted. “Stop fighting this. Us.” Her voice filled with bite. “Stop fighting me.”

  I was so damn close to giving in. To letting her tear down my zipper and doing whatever she damn well pleased with me. But I loved her. Couldn’t she see that? She’d transformed from a girl I barely knew to a girl I’d do anything for. She was just as much family to me as my own flesh and blood, and I had a history of hurting my family.

  Killing my family.

  Fuck.

  Tearing her grip away, I buckled over at the clawing emptiness inside. The lacerating lust shredding me apart. “Get away from me, Pim. We need to leave. Right now.”

  I struggled to stand. The room swam. My head pounded.

  And still, Pim rested on her knees before me looking like the perfect sacrifice. Lips parted, cheeks flushed, eyes begging.

  She undid me—life, love, and sanity.

  “I’m not leaving. Not until you kiss me again.” With liquid beauty, she rose from the carpet, removed her mask, and let it dangle from her fingertips. Seeing her face for the first time tonight, seeing how beautiful she was, how innocent but so worldly, was the last nail in my self-control coffin.

  She needed to know.

  One last warning.

  She needed to understand what would happen if she did this.

  Ripping off my own mask, I threw it on the floor. “You’re pushing me too hard, Pimlico.”

  “I’m not pushing you hard enough.” Letting go of her mask, she rested a hand on my chest. “If I was, I’d be beneath you right now, and you’d be inside me.”

  I shuddered, gritting my teeth against the image. “And I’d hurt you when I couldn’t stop. So you stop. Before I can’t—”

  “Can’t what? Fight anymore? Deny me anymore?” Her lips whispered over mine, her small frame balancing on her tiptoes, guiding me into temptation. “Give in, Elder.” Leaning close, she murmured in my ear, “I’ve never said these words to anyone. I never thought I would. But then you went and fell in love with me, and I fell in love with you, and you made it possible for me to say them.” She swallowed before licking my earlobe with her tongue.

  I convulsed. I almost came.

  “All of this is because of you and me and the undeniable need to be together; I can say such things because you brought me back to life and therefore you have to honour them.”

  My ears burned to hear the things she could say now but couldn’t say before. I positively died to hear them.

  But she paused, panting against my cheek. Denying me at the worst possible time.

  I shouldn’t buy into her tricks, but I was too far gone. Too lust drowned. “What things...”

  She kissed my cheek. Her fingernails dug into my chest. She inhaled quick and confident and with a commanding whisper utterly annihilated me. “Fuck me, Elder Prest. Be a man and fuck me.”

  And that was the end.

  There was no more fighting.

  No more negotiation.

  No more right or wrong.

  I lost.

  Obsession won.

  She won.

  My body moved of its own accord, freed from the prison I’d put myself under. My hands latched around her waist, my fingers digging into her ribcage. “You just had to keep pushing, didn’t you?”

  A flicker of worry crossed her face before rebellion replaced it. “Yes.”

  I crushed her to me, wrapping her tight in my embrace, claiming her mouth with savage cruelty.

  I kissed her possessively, brutally, quickly, callously.

  I kissed her in gratefulness for shoving me past decency.

  I kissed her in rage for proving I had no control.

  “Fuck me, Elder.” Her lips moved under mine, whimpering as my arms banded tighter. “Please, fuck me. I need you to fuck me.”

  “Oh, Pim...” Tearing her away, I turned and threw her on th
e couch behind me. “You never should have said such things.”

  Standing over her, cock hard, heart fast, mind a mess, I growled. “I’ll fuck you. I’ll fuck you until you can’t stand to be fucked anymore.

  “And then I’ll fuck you again. And again. Because there’s no earthly way I can stop now.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  ______________________________

  Pimlico

  HE FELL ON me.

  That was the only way to describe it.

  He stopped fighting.

  He tumbled.

  He trampled me between desire and cushions and tore my legs apart beneath my dress to wedge his hard heat between them.

  And then he kissed me.

  And it was different from all the other kisses in the world.

  Different to how he kissed me in Monte Carlo. Different to how he kissed me on the Phantom.

  Different good.

  Different bad.

  Just different.

  His lips were hot. His tongue wet. His teeth hard. His breath fast. His taste downright addicting.

  I’d instigated this. I’d finally been the one to demand sex, not the other way around, and the thrill inside quickly faded for paralyzing passion.

  I’d told him to fuck me.

  I’d used crude language to shatter his final restraint.

  And I was glad.

  I was ecstatic beneath him.

  I was joyous pinned below.

  There was no fear of what would happen or thoughts about my healing. I would fuck Elder as surely as he would fuck me.

  This was mutual, not one sided.

  I wasn’t afraid.

  I’m not afraid.

  I was breathless as he kissed me deeper.

  I was squirmy and hot and wet and achy and so, so impatient for more.

  There was no holding back this time. No ropes around his hands to prevent him from hitching up my gown. His touch messy and jerky as he gathered handfuls of satin, up, up, up, billowing around my waist, letting air kiss my thighs and hipbones. No chains to stop his fingers from clawing at the garters and blood red lingerie the two women from Social Art had dressed me in.

  Nothing to tamper his incredible touch or slow down our manic pace. This wasn’t making love or even the crude term of fucking—the same term I’d thrown in his face as a dare and demand.

  No, this was urgency at its finest.

  It infected him and me.

  It was all around us, blocking us from the world, turning this room into ours and this moment into forever.

  As Elder yanked at the lace between my legs, snapping off garters without caring, tearing pantyhose without looking, growling at the miles of fabric between us, I fumbled with his clasp and zipper on his trousers.

  There were no sweet words or whispered sentiments. No gentle kisses or sensual seduction.

  We had one goal.

  One need.

  Join.

  Join.

  Join.

  The metal clasp came away; his zipper caught on my dress only for him to grab it and yank it down with a rip of cloth.

  I had no idea what broke. I didn’t know if my dress was in pieces, or his trousers were in shreds, but it didn’t matter.

  Nothing mattered.

  All that mattered was

  him

  inside

  me.

  Nothing else was in my mind; no other thought permitted in my body.

  I needed him more than I needed water or food or air.

  I needed him to stretch me, fill me, bruise me.

  I needed him to claim every dark part of me and bring it into the light because I wanted this. I wanted to be sexual. I wanted to be a deviant. I wanted to be wanton and abandoned and utterly free to scream as he entered me and bite him when he thrust.

  The overpowering lust thickened and heated and burned.

  God, it burned.

  Faster.

  Quicker.

  Hotter.

  Our hands fumbled to the same command, tearing off clothing, pushing away barriers.

  I couldn’t explain it or even bother to understand it, but if I didn’t have him inside, connected and joined, I would die.

  Literally and spiritually die.

  I’m dying.

  I’m gasping.

  I’m so...so...

  “Elder...now.” I arched, seeking his cock, revelling in the pure pleasure of being myself. Of not second-guessing or censoring. Of not worrying about fists or abuse. Of not being afraid of rape or molestation.

  Elder was perfect.

  He was mine.

  He’s not inside me.

  “Elder...” I clawed at him, opening my legs wide, my head falling back as I moaned my desperation. Please...”

  “Fuck, little mouse. You’re driving me insane.” His voice mingled with kisses as his mouth latched on mine. My lips turned raw from his five o’clock shadow. The sting of his affection righteous with the pain in my core demanding to be addressed.

  Now.

  Now.

  God, now!

  My fingers worked on his trousers, pushing and shoving them down his waist. My fingernails scratched him in their rush. My temper snapping at my insides at how much longer I had to wait.

  His back bowed as I pushed faster, messier, completely out of my mind with need. The moment his trousers were mid-thigh, I battled the elastic cotton of his boxer-briefs.

  He groaned as his cock sprung free.

  I cried out as I finally, finally touched hot skin. Finally, finally caressed naked and hard him.

  He shuddered as I grasped his erection, pumping it hard. A primal growl fell from his lips as he kissed me mercilessly, ripping my knickers to my knees then contorting himself to drag them off one foot.

  They caught on the heel of my blood red stilettos only for him to tear off the shoe along with the lingerie. Both vanished over his shoulder, never to be seen again.

  Once, I’d believed I was Sleeping Beauty awoken by his kiss and Snow White freed from the poisoned apple. Now, I was Cinderella missing a glass slipper, but unlike that fairy-tale, I knew exactly who my prince was and precisely what I intended to do with him.

  I wriggled deeper beneath him, spreading my legs unashamedly as he pressed heavily on top of me.

  His hips scorched my inner thighs.

  His lips never stopped kissing.

  His hand disappeared under my dress.

  His tongue never stopped dancing.

  His fingers latched around his erection.

  His mouth never stopped claiming mine.

  His knuckles bruised my tender skin as he arched his hips and searched for my core.

  And then we both froze.

  Indescribable moment.

  Blissful. Breathtaking. Brutal.

  We hovered in that second with the tip of him at the entrance of me.

  A second where nothing and no one could hurt us.

  And then he thrust.

  I moaned.

  He groaned.

  The world fractured in two.

  I was used to violence. I was used to being taken quickly. I was used to being empty then full. Alone then ridden hard and fast.

  What I wasn’t used to was the lightning bolt of perfection as Elder stabbed inside me vicious and completely unapologetic. I wasn’t used to my reaction as my legs scissored around his hips, and I arched up to meet him, brutalising us with bruises, demanding more, commanding him to go harder, faster, deeper.

  It felt so right.

  So good.

  So true.

  More.

  More.

  More.

  Our mouths spread wide against each other, struggling to breathe through the indescribable pleasure of joining, struggling to stay alive with oversensitive flesh and scattered minds.

  We ceased existing as our bodies adjusted to being joined and heat rushed from him to me in the form of heartbeats and understanding that we were together now, but this wa
sn’t over.

  The race had just started.

  If I didn’t have my suspicions about Elder’s addiction, I might’ve become scared. Terrified at the black gleam in his gaze and the determined set of his brow. This wasn’t just sex to him. This was a competition to be bested only to be undertaken again and again.

  I was willing to be that competition—to allow him to use me to find his release with the hope of proving him wrong.

  I believed he could stop.

  He believed he couldn’t.

  At this point, I didn’t care who was right.

  He thrust again, and all my thoughts turned to willow-the-wisps.

  He drove into me, burying me into the soft cushions, clamping his teeth into my neck.

  I rode with him, flying up, tilting my throat so he could bite me harder. At no point did I suffer panic or terror or anything but the overwhelming sensation of being owned by Elder and being utterly contented by it.

  His pace turned frantic.

  Thrust.

  Thrust.

  Thrust.

  The couch bumped and scraped on the carpet. My dress fluttered around us, spilling to the floor in red and blue waves. His black hair clung to his forehead, sweat decorating his brow as we fucked each other with rage and frenzy.

  His hips trapped a bunch of my dress against my clit and every thrust made sparkling promises build in number.

  My spine tickled.

  My hips loosened.

  My legs tightened for the release they whispered.

  I was close.

  So close.

  So fast.

  So ready.

  Elder switched from mayhem to inferno, his hands locking in my hair, holding me prisoner as his hips drove faster, harder. “I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m sorry.” He rode me as if the seconds counting down were seconds to his death.

  He didn’t touch me. He didn’t kiss me. He just fucked me as I’d dared him.

  Fucked me because he had to.

  Fucked me because we had no choice.

  And with each thrust, I climbed higher, teetering on the pedestal of an orgasm I furiously wanted.

  My eyes popped from the pressure. My head ached from the need. My insides knotted and tangled, ready to explode in delirium.

  Only, he reached the finish line before I did.

  Throwing his head back, his spine hollowed as he thrust again, and a gruff animalistic groan wrenched from his lips. Warm wetness spilled deep inside me, making my body clench for things it knew it could never have.