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A broken cry spills out of him. So I do it again.
“There you go,” I praise him. “Squeeze me. Show me how much you want it. Such a good slut for my dick, aren’t you?”
“Shut up,” he sobs, though his hips are rolling back to meet me. “Just... shut up—”
“No.” I drag my tongue over his jaw, the piercing scraping his skin, and pick up the pace. “You don’t get to hide from this. You’re mine tonight. Every fucking inch of you.”
He breaks. Hands clawing at my arms, whimpers turning into moans he’s stopped trying to swallow, and I set my palms flat on the mattress on either side of his head and give him everything. His head knocks against the headboard. His heels dig into my back. Every stroke reaches the end of him, and he takes it, takes it, until the only sounds left in the room are skin, breath, and my name.
“Ash—” High, cracked. “Fuck—you’re hitting—”
“I know what I’m hitting.” I lower my mouth to his throat and suck another dark mark into the hollow of it, and he clenches down so hard I have to pause, grinning against his neck. “Look at you, stormbird. Fighting me with your mouth while your body begs for every single inch.”
“I’m not—” He bites his lower lip, a choked moan cutting off his own lie. “Fuck you... Ash, please—”
“Go on. Tell me again how much you hate it while you take all of me.”
“I—” His heels slip from my back. Catching his knees, I fold them up against my arms, opening him wider, and whatever he meant to say comes out as a whimper instead.
“That’s it.” I wrap a hand around his cock, slick with everything he’s been leaking, and stroke him in time with my hips. “Louder. Nobody in this apartment is going to save you.”
“Ash—” His back arches off the bed. “Ash, I’m— fuck, I’m going to—”
Ash. Not sir. Not Asher. Just the name my cousins use, wrung out of him without his permission. I’ll be collecting it for the rest of my life.
“Then come,” I tell him. “Come for me, stormbird. Let me watch.”
He obeys. His whole body locks, clenching down on my cock hard enough to white out my vision, and then he’s coming over my fist in hot pulses, painting his own stomach with it, my name breaking apart in his mouth.
The sight of him finishes me. Three more strokes and I bury myself to the root, coming inside him with a groan I don’t bother swallowing. I spill deep while he shakes through the last of it beneath me, both of us slick and wrecked and breathing like we’ve run the Hunt twice.
For a while, neither of us moves. Jade’s chest heaves beneath me, his knees still folded against my arms. Then he lets out a long, shuddering breath, and an arm snakes around my back.
“You really are an asshole.”
I chuckle against his throat and pull him closer. The fight drains from him with the next breath, and fuck if that doesn’t do something to my otherwise cold heart. Because I know what that is. I’ve held on like that my whole life and never got to the part where someone lets you stop.
Jade got there first. Under me, wrecked, in my bed.
I ease his legs down. A wince crosses his face before he sighs, his eyes already fluttering shut.
“Let yourself go,” I murmur.
“Don’t,” he slurs, but there’s no heat in it.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t be...” His gaze loses focus, then finds me again, fighting it, always fighting something. “...nice. I can hate the rest of it. I can’t hate you for being nice.”
Which is the most honest thing he’s said to me all night, and he’s too far gone to realize he’s said it. Of everything I’ve taken from him tonight, that’s the piece I’m keeping.
Slipping out of him carefully, I catch the small breath that leaves him as he turns his face away. The marks bloom dark down his neck, and something in my chest turns over hard.
“Stay. I’ll be one minute.”
Already half asleep, Jade couldn’t run now even if the building were on fire. Somehow, that feels like its own kind of victory, one I didn’t know I wanted until tonight.
Pulling on a pair of loose trousers, I cross to the bathroom and wet a cloth with warm water. I clean him gently, then reach for the good oil, the one that’ll take the worst of the soreness out before it sets in.
