It's fear, raw and twisting in my gut. My body's wired tight, every nerve screaming, waiting for the hammer to fall. Whatever he does now–it's going to be worse than before.
Confusion hits when his mouth lands on the curve of my shoulder–not a bite, but a wet, sucking kiss that pulls a gasp from my throat. His hands are gentle as they guide me toward the bed, palms warm on my hips, steering me like I'm something fragile he wants to keep whole. He nudges me under the covers, heavy silk and down folding over my skin, tucking me in with a tenderness that feels like alie. I close my eyes, brace for the shift–for the moment the sweetness turns sour.
Fabric rustles nearby. The soft click of a belt buckle, the whisper of clothes hitting the floor. The mattress dips, and then he's sliding in beside me, naked heat pressing against my back. He pulls me close, one arm banding around my waist, drawing me flush against him. His chest hair tickles my spine, his abs flexing with every breath, biceps like iron locking me in place. And there–God–his cock, the one I’d suckled all the way home, that he’d allowed me to soothe myself back into a state of functionality with. It’s thick and rigid, nestling right against my ass, the velvet heat of it branding me through the thin lace.
It feels good. Safe. Warm in a way that sinks into my bones and makes my eyelids heavy. But it's a trick, isn't it? A cruel setup before the fall. Is this even real? Or am I still trapped in the solarium, deep strains of music dragging me back? Maybe I never left the cage at all–maybe this is just another layer of the nightmare, his kindness a phantom that'll dissolve when I reach for it.
"Stay with me, Arianette," he murmurs, voice quiet and close, lips brushing the shell of my ear. He changed his mask at some point, removing the heavy bronze one for something lighter and less concealing. "Something scared you tonight. Something that triggered an emotional flood, a physical storm. As uncomfortable as it is, it just means your body's alive. Responding. It's a good thing."
A good thing?I try to latch onto his words, but they slide around in my head like oil on water. Outside the dance studio, my body has only ever betrayed me–twisting me into panic, into submission, into pain from the very start. Another shiver racks through me, violent enough to make my muscles ache, and he holds me tighter, his frame curling around mine like a shield.
"I'm not going anywhere," he says, breath warm on my neck. "We're going to get through this. Together."
"H-h-how?" The word stutters out, teeth clashing over it like I'm freezing from the inside.
His fingertips trail down my arm, light and soothing, skimmingthe side of my breast in a way that makes my breath hitch. My nipples tighten instantly, the piercings tugging with a spark that shoots straight between my legs. His hands are strong, confident–different from my Barons. No fumbling edges, no frantic hunger. He takes his time, like he has all night to put me back together.
Lips press to my neck, soft at first, then open-mouthed, sucking gently at my pulse point until I arch without meaning to. He kisses lower, trailing down my spine in a slow path of heat–wet, lingering touches that make my skin hum. Down to the little divot just above my ass, where he lingers, tongue flicking out to taste the salt there. Then he's rolling me onto my back, the covers slipping away, and his fingers hook into the waistband of my panties. He eases them off, inch by inch, the lace dragging over my thighs until they're gone.
He sits back on his heels, eyes raking over me–hungry, dark, taking in every curve, every scar, every trembling inch. I wish I could see his face–see what he looks like as he touches me. His cock juts thick between his legs, the head already glistening. He wraps a hand around it, gives it a long, lazy stroke from base to tip, thumb smearing the bead of precum like he's savoring the ache.
"Open your legs," he commands, voice rough velvet.
They fall apart on instinct, knees butterflying wide, exposing everything.
His hands slide up my thighs, big, callused palms spreading me even wider, thumbs digging into the soft inner flesh until I'm splayed open for him. He bends down, face burying between my legs, and plants a small, reverent kiss right on the metal piercing at my clit. My legs tremble harder, but he holds them steady, pinning me in place. Then his tongue–hot and flat–presses against my pussy, leisurely lapping, teasing the ring with flicks and circles until I'm delirious, hips bucking up for more.
"Oh god," I breathe, the words tumbling out in a haze. Confusion swirls with the pleasure, because I embarrassed him tonight, humiliated him in front of everyone with my panic attack. But these hands, this mouth... they're the touch of someone who cares. Someone who wants to mend the broken pieces, not shatter them further.
Daddy.
"I'm going to lick this pussy until you come on my tongue," he promises, breath hot and ragged against my slick folds. "Then I'm going to fuck you, baby girl, until your brain and body can think of nothing else. Until you know–deep down–that you're mine, and that nothing outside the House of Night can reach you. Nothing can hurt you.”
Mine.
The word echoes in my chest, warm and claiming. My hands reach for him, fingers running over the hard planes of his chest, tangling in the soft hair that dusts his pecs and tapers down in a tempting trail over his abs, leading straight to where he's throbbing for me.
He dives back in, tongue delving deeper now, swirling around my entrance, dipping inside just enough to make me clench then dragging up to suck on the piercing with gentle tugs that send lightning through my veins. His beard scrapes my inner thighs, rough and perfect, marking me. I thread my fingers into his hair, pulling him closer, grinding against his face as he groans into me, the vibration buzzing straight to my core. He's sweet about it, kissing my folds like they're something precious, whispering "good girl" between licks, but dirty too, letting my excitement coat his chin, his lips shiny when he pulls back for air.
My hips rock faster, chasing the build, and he lets me, encourages it with fingers spreading my lips wider, exposing every sensitive inch to his assault. The orgasm crashes over me sudden and hard, back arching off the bed as I cry out, pulsing on his tongue while he laps it all up, humming approval like I'm the sweetest thing he's ever tasted.
He doesn't give me time to float down. Just crawls up my body, mouth crashing onto mine in a kiss that tastes like me–salty, musky, intimate. The kiss is both hard and skilled. Tongue licking against mine. Jaw strong and commanding. His cock slides against my thigh, heavy and insistent, and then he's notching the head at my entrance, pushing in, inch by thick inch, until he's buried to the hilt. I gasp intohis mouth, walls fluttering around the stretch, the fullness that borders on too much.
"Fuck," he growls, pulling back to look at me, eyes dark, before his forehead presses to mine. "So tight. So perfect.”
He starts moving then–deep, rolling thrusts that hit every spot inside me, his pubic bone grinding against my clit with every snap of his hips. Sweet turns filthy as he pins my wrists above my head with one hand, the other cupping my breast, thumb flicking the piercing until I'm whining. He fucks me like he owns me–hard enough to make the bed creak, slow enough to draw it out, whispering dirty praises in my ear: "Look at you, taking my cock like you were made for it. Slick and wet, dripping all over me, aren't you? Such a wicked little one."
I wrap my legs around his waist, heels digging into his ass, urging him deeper. His chest hair rubs against my nipples, the friction sending sparks everywhere. Sweat slicks our skin, bodies sliding together in a messy rhythm–his balls slapping against me, my nails scraping down his back. He angles just right, hitting a spot that makes stars burst behind my eyes, and I come again, clenching around him like a vise, sobbing "Daddy" into his shoulder.
He follows right after–thrusts turning erratic, a low rumble building in his chest until he buries himself deep and spills inside me, hot pulses that fill me up. I embrace the feel of him. The weight of his body. The rasp of his breath. The way his seed leaks out around where we're joined. He collapses half on top of me, but doesn't pull out right away. Just holds me there, cock softening inside, lips brushing my temple in soft kisses.
"You're safe," he murmurs, rolling us so I'm draped over his chest, his arms locked around me. "You're mine.All mine.And nothing's going to change that."
Wrapped in his arms, the shivering stops. The fear quiets. And I believe him.
At least I want to.
I wake,body warm bundled under the covers. The light from the fire makes the room have a cozy glow but it’s the voices I hear at the door that draws me fully awake. His voice is low, soft and controlled, answering someone on the other side. The door clicks shut, footsteps approach, and then he’s back–shirtless, wearing only loose gray pajama pants that hang low on his hips, the waistband dipping below the carved V of muscle. The soft black mask still covers the upper half of his face, but his mouth is visible and the memory of what he did to me surges back. Those full lips brought me to a soul-shattering orgasm. His dark scruff along his jaw rubbed against my thighs. The hands that pinned me down, holding me still while he claimed me. It was real. It happened, and the way his eyes sweep over me where I lie, taking in everything–the way the sheet clings to my bare skin—makes me know he’s thinking about it too.
