Chapter 109: Him Losing Control (18+)

Iris’s head dropped to his shoulder, her mouth open against his skin, and a series of moans fell from her lips—each one higher, more desperate than the last. Her thighs trembled around his hand.

“I need you to say it, Iris,” he said, his voice wrecked and breathless, his fingers still moving inside her.

“Say it,” he said again, and his voice had gone rough at the bottom of it, the way it did when his beast was close to the surface. “I want to hear you say it.”

“I… I want you,” she gasped, her voice trembling. “I want you to touch me… I want you inside me. Now!”

The words came out soft, almost fragile, and then she gasped—a sharp, broken sound—when his two fingers made a slow, deep rotation inside her that hit something that made her vision blur.

The sound he made was barely human. Low, in his chest, felt more than heard, and his fingers curled inside her and pressed up, and her knees nearly went, and she grabbed his forearm with both hands just to stay standing.

“There,” she gasped. “There, there — “

He worked her with his fingers, slow and deep and deliberate, curling into the place that made her vision go white at the corners, and his thumb found her clit and circled it once, twice, and she was already so close she could feel it gathering at the base of her spine like water behind a dam, and then he stopped.

Pulled his hand out of her. All the way out, and she made a sound of protest that was frankly embarrassing, and he brought his fingers up to his own mouth and put them in, and she watched him taste her with his eyes half-closed and his jaw tight, watched his throat move as he swallowed, and the sound he made was one of genuine, unguarded hunger.

He pulled his fingers out of his mouth. “Get your legs around me.”

She did. He got a hand under each thigh and lifted her like she weighed nothing — which, to him, she probably did — and her back came off the slate and her legs locked around his waist and he braced one forearm against the wall above her head. The other hand positioned himself, and his cock slid up between them, hot and hard and dragging along her clit as he adjusted his grip.

With his forearm that’s already against the wall above her head. His other hand went down between them, and she felt him take himself in hand, and the blunt head of him pressed against her entrance and pushed….she felt the blunt, stretching pressure of the first push inward.

She made a sound against his shoulder. It was half-gasp and half-something else—something she didn’t have a word for. Not discomfort. Not pain. More like the fullness of being genuinely, completely present in her own body, feeling the sheer scale of him reclaiming her.

Every nerve ending awake and reporting, feeling him again after hours of distance that had felt like days. The stretch was real, the girth of him demanding, and her body resisted and yielded in the same breath.

Her nails dug into his back, and he stopped there, buried just past the head, breathing hard against her temple.

He pushed the rest of the way in one long stroke.

She felt all of it. Every inch of the stretch, the deep settling fullness of him bottoming out inside her, the way her body gave and then closed around him like it had been waiting to.

He went still when he was all the way in, both of them shaking slightly, water running down between them, and she could feel his heartbeat inside her, or maybe that was hers, or maybe it was the same pulse and she’d stopped being able to tell the difference.

She shifted her hips, testing, and he made a sound low in his throat that was very nearly a growl.

She pressed her lips to his jaw, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts. “Move… and don’t you fucking stop,” she commanded.

He moved. This was different from the previous times. That had been heat and hurry and the shock of each other; this was more personal, more heated. It was slower, deeper, more deliberate — he knew her body now, and he used that knowledge with a deliberate, focused generosity. He knew the angle that made her gasp and the pace that made her nails come out, and he used it.

Every thrust went deep and measured, hitting the same angle that made her gasp, the head of him dragging over something inside her that made her whole spine light up, and the rhythm built steady, no rush in it, like he intended to be here a while.

“You feel—” He exhaled against her neck, his voice rough and unguarded. “God, Iris—you’re so tight… it’s like you were made just for me…which you are.”

“Don’t stop.” She got a hand into the back of his hair and pulled his mouth up to hers, kissed him messy and open while he fucked her. “Don’t you dare stop.”

The growl in his chest deepened, and she felt it through her sternum, through her ribs, a vibration that went down into her bones and made something at the base of her skull sit up and pay attention. It should have frightened her. It did frighten her, a little, the animal edge of it — but her hips rolled into his thrusts anyway, matching him stroke for stroke, and the fear and the wanting had stopped being separate things somewhere around the second day.

His free hand found her breast, palm covering it, his thumb rolling across her nipple in perfect time with his thrusts. And his thumb dragged across her nipple in time with his hips, and the double sensation was overwhelming and went through her like a wire pulled taut.

She had no words, no thoughts, only the impossible intimacy of his face close to hers and the loss of his legendary control. She was making sounds now that she couldn’t have named, small broken ones against his mouth, and her thighs were starting to shake where they locked around his waist.

He began to suck at her nipple, his teeth grazing the peak, while his palm squeezed her other breast. He thrust up inside her, harder and faster now, the sound of their colliding skin echoing in the small shower.

“Alexander — ” His name came out wrong. Too soft. Too much of something.

He heard it. Of course he heard it. His eyes came up to hers, and they’d gone crimson at the edges, the blue was gone, and he looked at her like she was the only thing in the world that had ever been worth looking at, and he drove into her harder.

His thumb slid down her belly and found her clit.

Two circles. That was all it took. Iris felt the tension snap. She came first, her internal muscles clenching violently around him.

She came with his name breaking in her throat, her whole body arching off the slate, her cunt clenching around his cock in long rolling waves that kept going and going, and she heard herself say his name again and again like a prayer she didn’t believe in, and he fucked her through all of it, deep and steady, until her shaking eased.

The orgasm was deeper and slower than any she had ever known, rolling through her in long, concentric waves.

He followed immediately after, his rhythm faltering as he hit her deepest point. He drove into her twice more, hard, and on the third he buried himself to the root and went rigid, his whole body locking and his grip on her wrist tightened.

His face pressed into the side of her neck, and she felt him come. A low, guttural sound tearing out of him—ahhh—as he shuddered through his release.

Iris felt the hot pulse of it deep inside her, one, two, three, spilling into her while his hips ground against hers like he couldn’t get close enough, and the sound he made against her skin was the most unguarded thing she’d ever heard from him. Not a growl. Something quieter and worse than a growl.

His hand on the wall had gone white-knuckled. The other one was spread flat against her lower back, holding her against him, holding her there while the last of it shuddered through him and out.

The water kept running. Neither of them moved. She could feel him still inside her, still hard, still twitching with the aftershocks, and she could feel his breath coming back to normal against her throat, and she could feel the mark on her neck — cooling now, the heat draining out of it slow, like a coal going gray.

His mouth moved against her skin. Not a kiss. Just his lips, pressed to the place where her pulse was loudest, staying there.