Chapter 110: Him Losing Control 2 (18+)

He pulled out of her slowly, and the drag of it made her gasp against his shoulder — every inch of the withdrawal a loss she felt in her teeth. The water had gone lukewarm, steam thinning to a haze that hung at eye level, and the cold slate at her back was suddenly the only thing holding her upright.

Then his hands were on her hips, turning her, and she understood.

Her palms hit the slate wall. The stone was cold enough to make her flinch, and she braced there, forehead down, water running off her hair and into her eyes, and behind her Alexander’s hands slid down the curve of her spine — slow, deliberate, the flat of his palm mapping her like he was reading something written in a language only he knew.

“Like this,” he said, and his voice was wrecked, and it wasn’t a question.

“Like this,” she agreed, and heard her own voice come out steadier than she’d expected, and then his cock slid between her thighs from behind — hot and slick, dragging along the swollen length of her slit without entering — and her steadiness evaporated in a single breath.

He did it again. And again. A slow back-and-forth, the head of him catching at her entrance each time and then sliding past, and her hips started moving back into it without her permission, chasing him, and she could hear how wet she was over the sound of the water — a slick, obscene noise every time he passed through her folds.

“You hear that wonderful sound Iris?” he said against the back of her neck.

She said nothing….she couldn’t. No when it felt like her senses were dulled. Dulled by her aching need of him.

“Say what it is.”

“Alexander — “

“Say it.” His teeth grazed the top of her spine, and his hand came around her hip and two fingers found her clit and pressed, and her whole body bowed forward into the wall.

“It’s — ” She couldn’t say anything, not with his hands on her. She tried again. “It’s how wet I am. For you.”

The growl that came out of him then was not human. It started somewhere in his chest and rolled down through his hips and into her, and she felt it in her cunt before she felt it anywhere else, a deep answering clench that had nothing to do with her mind.

He pushed in.This angle was different. Deeper, somehow, even though he’d been inside her a minute ago — the head of him pressed against a wall of her that had never been touched, and she heard herself make a sound like a struck bell, high and short and shocked.

He went in to the root in one long, unhesitating stroke, and stopped there, and she felt his hips flush against her ass and his thighs hard behind hers and his breath hot and ragged on the back of her neck.

“Are you all right?” he said. Despite how hard he was, and how much he greatly desired her. He still wanted to make sure that she was alright.

“Don’t stop.” She got one hand back and grabbed his hip, nails digging in. “Don’t you dare stop.”

He moved. The first thrust took the breath out of her. The second made her hands slide on the wet slate and find no purchase.

By the third she had given up on holding anything and just pressed her forehead to the stone and let him fuck her, and the sound of it filled the shower — the slap of his hips against her ass, the wet suction of him pulling out and driving back in, the low continuous growl that lived in his chest now and didn’t stop.

Every stroke went deep and came back to the same place, that place, and she felt it building in her spine like a fist closing, slow and total.

His hand left her hip and came around and found her breast, it was wet and heavy in his palm, and he rolled her nipple between his fingers, and the double current of it again— his cock inside her, his fingers on her, his mouth dragging along the back of her shoulder — had her making sounds she’d never made before, sounds that would have embarrassed her if there’d been anything left in her head but him.

“Harder,” she said.

He gave her harder. The rhythm broke into something rougher, less measured, his control finally gone the way it had gone the first time — and she loved it, loved the loss of it, loved that she was the thing that did this to a man who did not lose control.

His hand came off her breast and slapped flat on the slate beside her own, and his other arm banded around her waist and pulled her back onto him, and he fucked her like he was trying to bury himself in her permanently, and her orgasm arrived without warning.

It took her from the inside. Her cunt clenched around him in long hard waves, and her knees went, and she would have slid down the wall if his arm hadn’t been holding her up, and she heard her own voice saying his name over and over, cracked and reverent, and she didn’t care who or how many people with super hearing in the estate, that heard her.

Her whole body shook with it, water and heat and the relentless push of him still going, still driving, riding her through it.

“Iris — ” His voice was barely a voice. “I’m going to — “

“Inside me.” She turned her head just enough to say it against his jaw. “Come inside me. Please.” She didn’t know why she wanted him to, but it seemed her body needed it.

He buried himself to the root and stopped. Rigid, shaking, his whole body locked against her back, and she felt him come again — the first hot pulse deep in her cunt, then another, then another, and his hips ground against her ass like he was trying to push it deeper, and the sound he made into her shoulder was broken open and quiet and the most naked thing she’d ever heard from him.

His arm stayed locked around her waist. His forehead came down against the back of her neck, and he stayed there, still buried in her, breathing hard, and she felt every remaining twitch of him inside her, and every pulse of her own cunt answering him.

The water had gone cold. She noticed it in pieces — first at her shoulders, then down her back, then in the small of her spine where the spray hit — and she didn’t move, and neither did he.

His mouth was on the back of her neck, he wasn’t kissing her neck, it was just pressed there, and his hand had come up to cover her own on the slate, fingers lacing through hers, and the mark on her neck had gone quiet, a low cooling ache like a bruise settling.

After a while, he pulled out. She felt it—the slow, heavy drag, the sudden, sharp emptiness, and then the warm slide of him running down the inside of her thigh, mixing with the cooling water. She pressed her knees together on pure instinct, but she felt it anyway: thick, warm, and irrevocably his.

She turned her head and looked over her shoulder. Alexander was staring down at her, his gaze locked on the place where their bodies had just been joined.

The edges of his blue irises were still stained with an incandescent crimson, his jaw set so tightly that the muscles twitched beneath his wet skin. He looked like a man trapped in an impossible calculation—one whose math kept yielding an answer he refused to accept.

“What?” she asked him, her voice raspy from the steam and the sounds she had made against his throat.

“Nothing.”

“That is not a nothing face, Alexander.” She said.

He reached past her, his massive forearm brushing against her wet side, and shut the water off with a sharp click.

The silence that crashed down between them was enormous. The loud, rushing roar of the spray vanished, leaving only the slow, rhythmic drip-drip-drip of the showerhead and the heavy, ragged sound of their breathing. The cavernous marble enclosure suddenly felt claustrophobic, the air thick with mist, lavender, and the lingering, heavy musk of their release.

“It is a face,” he said finally, his voice a deep rumble that vibrated through the quiet space, “that is acutely aware you asked me for space, and I just gave you none.”

He drew in a long, harsh breath through his nose, his broad chest expanding against the wet slate wall.

“I know you still do not comprehend the gravity of my mark on your neck, Iris. But as much as my beast craves you… your body craves mine just as fiercely.”

Iris turned around. She did it slowly, because her knees were still weak and unreliable, her thighs trembling faintly from the sheer intensity of what had just happened..