by Harper Sloan
It was foolish of me to think I would ever be able to control this man once I saw the fierceness burning in his scrutiny break free of his careful control. When I try to push my hands into his hair, he breaks our kiss with a hiss and narrows his eyes at me.
"You're not to touch me, Ember. Not at all. I'm so worked up right now because of you. I'm about to fucking come all over myself and the only place that's going to feel my fucking come will be the inside of your pussy. Do not test me by putting those wicked little hands on my body until I can take my time to show you what it's really like to take while giving."
"Please," I rasp past my dry throat, needing that so desperately.
"No, not please. From this point on, the only word I want to hear from your lips is my name. Moan, groan, scream out your pleasure, but you say no other word than my name. I want to hear you scream that, Ember," he stresses with a hard thrust. "You don't come until I tell you to," he rumbles deep in his throat. I lose his eyes as he bends to trace my ear with the tip of his tongue before whispering against it. "And when you do, you had better do it loud enough to feel pain in your throat from the pleasure I'll give your pussy."
"Take me," I beg, trying to rock against him, but his weight on me restricts my movements.
"Nate," he grunts in my ear. "No more fucking words but my name. Know who is claiming you. Let the whole fucking world hear who is taking you and making you his."
He runs his hands up each of my arms, stretching them out until I can almost feel the edge of my mattress and his hands are curling around my fingers.
"Hold on," he commands with a wink.
My shirt is instantly pushed up until he's forced to stop because of the position he has put my arms in. I can tell he's trying to figure out if making me move from my position is worth removing the shirt completely. Then he looks up into my eyes before jumping off the bed and walking over to the desk in the corner.
He searches the top, looking through each pen-filled coffee mug, before pulling the drawers open. My eyes widen when I see him turn holding a pair of scissors. I open my mouth to protest, but at the hard look he shoots my way, I snap my jaw shut.
He stalks back to the bed, but when I thought he would climb back on top of me, he just places the scissors on the bed and hooks a thumb under his underwear before pushing the tight black material down his powerful thighs. His cock springs free, his red, angry tip wet with his pre-come, and I lick my lips.
One of his hands grabs the scissors and the other starts to stroke the hard flesh between his legs.
"I want to see you wearing my marks, Ember. Your hips already have my handprint and just seeing that on you makes the animal you've awoken inside me fucking pleased. But it's not enough. I need you to wear my marks." He starts to mumble some more under his breath, but I can't make out his words with my loud and harsh breathing echoing throughout the room. When he brings the scissors up and starts to cut my shirt up the center of my breasts, I cry out. Not in pain but in anticipated pleasure. He walks to the foot of the bed when he's done and looks up my body before placing his hands down and slowly making his way back to me. "I'm going to eat you now. With my hands holding your legs captive at the back of your spread thighs, digging my fingers in each time you try to deny me what I'm going to take. My tongue will make you so crazy you might come, but you had better not. Not until I've marked enough of this perfect tan skin."
Then, true to his warning, his hands are pushing between my legs and the mattress as he lifts and pushes until he's holding me to his mouth by the bruising grip he has on the back of my thighs. I can feel the wetness of our combined fluids running down the crack of my ass. My legs being pushed until I can feel the top of my thighs touching my belly as my toes touch the top of the headboard.
If I could find a way to open my eyes, I might find it funny that I can look at my toes at this moment, but when he opens his mouth and closes his wide lips over my core with a hard suck, I'm pretty sure I died.
I scream, pant, and almost black out as he moves his mouth against the slick wetness he's causing. My fingers cramp up as I hold on to the mattress for dear life. The only thing keeping me from coming right now is the look in his eyes that I see when I finally open my own. He's looking up my body with burning eyes. Eyes that are daring me to disobey his demand. For a brief second, I consider giving in to the need my body has to come, just to see what he will do, but when I open my mouth, his eyes narrow and his growls vibrate against my pussy. I almost lose my control, almost come against his mouth, and he knows it since his tongue is feeling the fluttering of my inner walls as I fight to hold on.
And just when I think I can't take anymore, he releases me with a pop. His tongue coming out to give one thick flat swipe before his hold on my thighs eases and my legs are tenderly placed on the bed once again.
"You ready for me to make you mine?" he asks, his voice thick and deeper than normal.
I nod, not willing to take the chance that he denies me if I speak.
"Ember, I want you to answer me with words this time and only this time. Are you on birth control?"
I have to clear my throat to get a sound out, the scream of my release just waiting in a giant lump. "Y-yeah. The pill."
"Thank fuck," he rumbles, dropping down to one hand placed next to my head as he leans to press the tip of his nose against mine. I can feel him running the hot tip of his dick up and down between the lips of my sex, and I open my mouth with a silent gasp each time he presses it against my swollen clit. "You've been a good girl, keeping yourself from coming even though I know you were close a few times. You quivered against my tongue, and I thought I was going to have to stop to put my mark on your ass for not being able to hold yourself back."
I hum low in my throat, and his pupils widen as he mirrors my noise.
"You like that?" he asks, and I nod. "Next time. You'll get my hands on your ass before I let you put your lips on my cock."
Another sound comes from me, and I almost lift my hips off the mattress when his thick, blunt head pushes into my pussy just a breath before he swipes it back up to my clit.
"Next time, I want your hands in my hair when I cover my chin with your wetness," he muses and rubs the tip of his nose against mine while I feel him enter me again, this time almost an inch of him. My eyes widen and I gasp, earning a brief kiss from him when I'm able to keep my silence. "Hold on, Ember. I'm going to claim this pussy, and when you scream my name like a good girl, know that you're giving me all of you when you take my come deep inside your body."
He lifts up and looks down our bodies. After lining himself up and pushing the tip of him inside me, he brings the hand that had been holding his cock up, resting it on my collarbone. His eyes watch his hand as he trails it down until he is cupping the underside of my breast, his palm on top of my heart.
Then he looks up.
His fingertips press and flex before he lifts his hand and puts one finger right above my heart. "All of you," he vows and thrusts himself inside me in one rough push. His thickness makes me see stars as the pain of his size mixes and swirls into the most intense pleasure I've ever felt. He doesn't move, allowing me the needed time to get used to him, all the while holding me captive with eyes that are almost glowing with intensity.
When he pulls out, almost falling completely from my body, I mewl and whine, needing him back inside. The feeling is short-lived because, in the next breath, he is slamming back inside so hard that my bed slamming against the wall is louder than the scream that bursts from my throat. One side of his mouth tips up at my cry and then his lips are on mine as he continues to pound his cock inside my body. The bed protests with each and every thrust. He lifts up when another raw scream comes out of my mouth and cocks his head at me. I whine, not even ashamed of it, because the need to come has so much intensity driving its power that I know it won't be long. My searching eyes plead with him.
"My fucking name, Ember. Come on my cock and scream!" he bellows before lifting up and takin
g hold of my hips. While kneeling between my legs, he starts to fuck me even harder. So hard that I'm not even sure I can scream; the force of my climax raging through my body is too powerful. My eyes water, not from pain, but because of the feelings he is bringing forth.
I want to declare that I'm his.
I want to demand that he is mine.
I want to scream for him to never stop.
I want to sob that I love him.
Instead, when I feel myself detonate into a million pieces, I open my mouth and do what I was told to do.
"NATE!" My voice breaks at the end, and I sob as I come, and come, and come. "Nate, Nate, Naaate," I continue, unable to even think about saying anything but his name.
Just when the intensity almost becomes too much, I feel his rhythm falter before he gives one final thrust forward. His fingers dig into the tender flesh at my sides, but all that is forgotten when I feel him pulse inside me as the heat of his come enters my body.
My vision clears to a hazy fog when he falls and covers me with his weight. The feeling welcome and wanted. I look up and search his face, unsure what to say after that, but words aren't needed, not when our bodies said everything for us. He adjusts his weight until he's leaning on one elbow and turns my head to look at him with a gentle touch of his hand cupping my face.
"Ember," he whispers, ghosting a kiss over my lips. "My Ember. I'm never letting go, baby. Not now. Not ever. And pretty soon, your head is going to catch up with your heart and you're going to understand that. I meant it; I want all of you. I'm going to make it my mission to show you, prove to you, that I'm worthy of getting that gift from you again." I open my mouth, not even sure what I'm going to say, but he just bends and gives me a slow, wet, and beautiful kiss.
A long while later, after he had switched us so that his back was to the bed and I was in his arms, I rested my head against his chest as he breathed slow and deep. Even in his sleep, he held me tightly, and at that moment, I knew he didn't have anything to prove to me because my head had already caught up with my heart.
He's had it since I was seventeen years old. Even when I thought it would never heal when he turned me away a year later, he still held it. He will always have all of me.
Always.
MONDAY
"I WISH YOU DIDN'T HAVE to go," I whisper against his chest, my body still coming down from the fourth climax he's given me. We haven't been able to get enough of each other since the first time he took me a week ago.
His arms tighten around me, and I feel him press his lips against the top of my head. He had just shown up a few hours earlier, right as I had been making my way out to the studio, and he took me roughly against the front door the first time until I was screaming out one hell of a hello.
The second time was when my back was on the couch; he held my legs apart as he kneeled on the floor between them.
The third was against my own hand as I swallowed every drop of him as he pulsed in my mouth.
And the last, we had finally made it to where we are now, a tangle of sweaty limbs in my bed.
"I wish I didn't have to go," he agrees. "I thought it would be easier to spend less time at Dirty now that we have Dent on as a manager, but things have just been crazy. I shouldn't complain, but fuck, I would rather be here with you than doing a bunch of paperwork."
"We've had plenty of time together, Nate." We haven't, but I don't want to make him feel bad when I know he's stressed about finding a balance between being the owner of a very popular club and my boyfriend.
Boyfriend? Is that what he is? I mean he's said that he was mine and I was his, but he's never spoken the words.
"Slipping into your bed in the middle of the night does not equal plenty of time. I haven't even taken you on a date, Em."
I push up on the hand that had been resting against his chest and look down at him. "Did I complain?"
I feel the rumbles of his silent laughter against the palm. "It's been a week since I promised I would prove to you that I deserved the gift of you. Two weeks since we decided to be together, and so far, the only thing I've been able to do is have dinner at the club between the little time I had to take a break. You are worth more than a rushed dinner, Ember. It's frustrating the hell out of me."
"Nate, you don't have to prove anything to me." My belly flops, and I shift to lean up a little more, giving him a brush of my hand against his hair. "Don't be so hard on yourself. I understand and don't hold it against you that you're needed at the club."
"That might be the case, Ember, but you deserve better."
"I deserve you," I whisper.
His eyes fire, the reaction to my words so strong that I can feel his heart pick up speed under my hand.
"Yeah? And it's my job to make sure you never forget that, baby."
I shake my head, knowing that I'm not going to get him to realize that I don't care if all we've had time for the last six days is a few hours here and there that he's made to come to my house. Before I can speak, though, his head comes up and he flips us while taking my mouth in a deep, slow, kiss.
Then he makes me come for the fifth time.
TUESDAY
I hear my doorbell just as I had finished signing my name to the bottom right corner of A Beautiful War. Bam starts barking at the chime, and I drop my brush to go answer it.
After Nate left last night, I haven't left my studio. The sun set and rose while I worked feverishly to finish. I feel like I'm about to drop, the exhaustion so strong, but every bit of my sluggishness is worth it after the signature I just penned on the canvas.
"Flowers for an Emberlyn Locke," the gruff voice greets when I open the door. "Here," he continues and thrusts a clipboard at me, just giving me enough time to take it before turning and walking toward his truck.
"Oh, okay," I mumble and sign my name next to the huge X he had scribbled.
"Here. There's more," he huffs and thrusts a huge vase of roses into my hands.
"More?"
"Yeah, lady. More. As in eight more."
I look at the roses in my hand, judging there to be about two dozen bright red buds before snapping my head back up. "Are you sure?"
"Been doing this for twenty years. I don't get my orders wrong. Nine vases, twenty-four roses in each, to an Emberlyn Locke at this address. The only way I'm wrong is if you're not really Emberlyn Locke."
"I am, but this is a lot."
He gives me a weird look, holding out the second vase impatiently. "I'm just doing my job."
I struggle to hold both, so while he stomps back to his van, I turn to place them down on the table next to my door. I wisely stop questioning him and hope there's, at least, a note on one of these.
His surly demeanor doesn't slip until the last vase is in my hands. Then I get a smile from him before he turns to leave. "See you tomorrow," he oddly says over his shoulder before slamming his door.
Tomorrow?
WEDNESDAY
Sal, my new florist best friend, showed up just as I was returning from dropping my last painting off at the gallery. When his van had pulled in, I had been juggling my keys and the bag of fast food I had grabbed on my way home after I realized it was past noon and I hadn't eaten yet. Since he had to wait for me to put that down before I could sign and take the next enormous floral display, I had asked and gotten a very impatient 'Sal, as in Sal's Flower's' before he pointed with a weathered finger toward his van.
I just shrugged and took the flowers.
Since his order yesterday, I was quickly running out of space. I figured it was wiser to just place them on the floor until Sal left, then find somewhere for them.
When he handed me the last one, number nine, I got the same grumpy wave as he trudged to his van. "See you tomorrow."
Uh? He can't be serious.
I look down at my feet, seeing just the top of each rose. A sea of red that only two hundred and sixteen roses can make. The scent of roses has already overtaken my house, but all I can do is smile.
/> I don't look for the card right away, knowing it's here, but walk around my house trying to find a home for each vase. With the last one in hand--and no other option--I place the last four in the middle of my kitchen table before plucking the card I see off one of them.
His handwriting is rough and slanted, just as it was on yesterday's card. Of course, the one yesterday had just said, 'Yours, Nate.' Today's corny line makes me smile when the first made me melt. I drop the card on the table before pulling my phone from the back pocket of my shorts.
"Hey," he hums in my ear as the sound of shuffling papers comes over the line.
"You know, pretty soon I'm going to be sleeping on roses."
He laughs.
"Thank you, honey."
"You sound happy," he muses softly.
"And you sound tired. Do you need anything?"
He's quiet for a second, more paperwork shifting around. "Just you, Em. I'll be over later, but don't wait up."
"It's wine night with Nikki, so there's a good chance I'll still be up when you leave Dirty."
"I hope so. I miss my girl."
I laugh. "It's been two days, Nate."
"Two long-as-fuck days."
I don't respond because he's right. Instead, I change the subject.
"My mom asked if I would be at family dinner tonight. I told her no, but ... uh," I trail off, not sure how to word what I really want to ask. Something I've been wondering, but not willing to ask and add to his stress.
"I got the same call from my mom. Not a surprise, but her question was actually whether we would be at family dinner."
"Uh ..."
He chuckles deeply. "Em, what did you think was going to happen? You're not just some new girlfriend she's gotten wind of."
"Girlfriend," I echo on a squeak.
His hilarity grows, but I sense it's more sarcastic at this point. "Yeah, Ember. Figured that was clear."
