I chickened out and didn’t go The Vanilla Bean, not wanting to come face-to-face with an angry, outspoken Angie. If her text messages are any indication, she’s not exactly happy with me, assuming that I no-showed and dipped, deciding I didn’t need the money. So, I took the coward’s way out and sent her a text instead. She hasn’t replied.
Not that I blame her, from her perspective, it seems like I’m a flake, a temporary fixture, leaving them all high and dry. And maybe it’s for the best that I allow them to remember me that way. I’m not sure I can come up with an excuse as to why I disappeared, other than the truth. Somehow, I don’t think showing up and telling them that I was held hostage, but it’s okay because I think I’m in love with the kidnapper would go over well.
I scoff, rolling my eyes and leaning back on James’s bed, laughing as I remember one of the first conversations we had here. Joking about Stockholm syndrome, of all things. Talk about the irony.
A giggle bursts out of me just as the door opens and James walks in, his eyes hollow and haunted.
“What’s so funny, pretty girl?” he asks, coming to sit next to me on the bed. His hand reaches out, brushing underneath my eyes, and my insides melt like butter from his words and his touch.
I grin. “I’m just thinking about the first time I woke up in here, do you remember?”
He leans in, brushing his lips against mine. “I remember every single moment between us, darling.”
“Well… isn’t it kind of funny that we talked about nice kidnappers, and then you went all Hook on me and did it?”
His brow lifts.
I laugh again. “I’m just saying.” My hand flies up. “It’s funny when you think about it.”
He tilts his head. “Are you alright?”
Sighing, I lean against the pillows. “I’m fine. Just trying to find some humor from our less-than-ideal start. What a story for the grandkids, huh?”
His eyes flare and I realize what I just said, my chest pulling. “Not that I think we’re going to have kids, or that they’ll have kids. It’s just a phrase, really. I know we’re still super new, even though I mean we are technically living together, aren’t we?”
A smile grows on his face and he stands, stripping out of his suit and climbing in the bed, hovering over me. “I’m not sure I’ve ever heard you ramble before, darling.”
I lean back, his body weight settling on top of mine.
“For the record.” He dips his head down, the tips of his hair tickling my neck as he presses kisses to my skin. “I would give you the world. You simply have to ask. You want kids? Done.” He presses his lips to my jaw. My stomach tightens. “You want to stay here and never work again?” Another kiss, this time just beneath my ear. “Done.”
My core flutters, heat spreading through me.
“You want to watch the world burn?”
“Let me guess, you’ll set it on fire?” I ask.
He chuckles, the sound vibrating through me and settling into my bones. “No, darling. I’ll hand you the match, and stand at your back, watching you become queen of the ashes.”
My breath stalls at his words. At what he’s really saying. And that, as morbid as it seems, hits me in the center of my chest, making warmth spread with every beat of my heart.
Because James sees me as his equal. As someone worthy to stand at his side.
His lips meet mine, and I sink into the kiss, fully giving in, accepting that this is what I want.
All of his deep, dark, and slightly unhinged pieces. I choose every single one.
I choose him.
He pushes up my oversized shirt—another one of his that I put on—his fingers dipping between my legs and groaning when he meets naked skin. I pull his face back to mine, staring into his eyes, taking in the white lines that run through the cerulean blue. Leaning in, I kiss him.
He groans, pushing down his boxers, his fingers sweeping through my folds. “I have dinner planned, but I feel as if I deserve a treat.”
My stomach jumps, my body lighting up with heat and love and acceptance.
I’m done fighting it.
James may not be a hero, but even villains can feel. And you can’t help who you love.
He grips his length, running the tip of himself up and down my entrance, pleasure snaking its way through my middle.
“You’re such a good girl, ready and waiting to take my cock,” he rasps into my ear.
Butterflies fly through my stomach and up into my chest, my hips rising to force him inside, desperate to feel him fill me in only the way he can.
“James, please,” I beg.
He circles his tip on my sensitive nerves until my legs start to tremble, and only then does he move himself down to my opening and slide all the way inside me. He leans back, his hips flush with mine, and he rips off his undershirt, his scarred body hovering on top of me.
“You’re beautiful,” I gasp as he pulls out and thrusts back in.
He smirks. “Am I?”
“Yes.” My heart swells in my chest and my hand reaches up to trail along his jaw. “You’re dark and moody and mysterious. But beautiful.”
Leaning down, he sucks my tongue into his mouth and sets a steady pace, my walls squeezing around his length as if my body wants him closer. Needs him deeper. His lips break away, his hand wrapping around my throat the way he knows I love.
“Darling, if I’m the dark, then you’re the stars.”
And then he squeezes, cutting off my air supply, my vision going blurry moments later. My hands dig into his shoulder blades, fingernails cutting into his skin as I give in to the burn of my lungs, my middle winding tighter with each second that I rim the edge of consciousness. I explode, my vision going black, my head growing fuzzy, and my walls contracting around his cock. Euphoria sizzles beneath my skin.
He groans in my ear, continuing his rough pace as I come back to myself, my lungs expanding with every breath.
“Do you want my cum, pet?” he asks.
I moan. “Yes, please.”
“I do love it when you beg.” He pulls out, moving up my body until his knees rest on either side of my chest. “Be my good girl and suck it out.”
His length bobs in front of me, glistening from my juices, and throbbing from his need for release. I grasp it in my hands, feeling it pulse beneath my fingers, and pull it into my mouth, moaning at the taste of my cum on his skin.
I swirl my tongue around the head and relax my jaw as he pumps his hips, his length hitting the back of my throat. My eyes water, but I breathe deep through my nose, his hands fisting my hair and his head thrown back, mouth slightly parted.
Seeing him in the throes of pleasure sends a rush of power spiraling through me. I suck hard as he thrusts, gagging as he pushes past the back of my mouth and slips down my throat, spit dribbling from the corners of my lips and sliding down my face. My eyes burn, tears blurring my vision as his hips push until they’re flush against my face.
“That’s my girl,” he coos. “Taking my cock down your throat like a perfect little slut.”
The insult slices against my middle, but the way he says it makes me want to be his whore. To be filthy and depraved just for him.
Only ever just for him.
Suddenly, he pulls out of my mouth, and I gasp in a breath, my jaw aching. He grips himself and strokes, his hips thrusting into his fist. I watch, desire pooling low in my belly as his body tenses, the vein on the underside of his shaft physically pulsing as thick ropes of cum shoot from his tip. They land, hot and sticky, along my face, dribbling down my cheek and dropping onto my chest.
He lets out a long moan as he paints my skin with his pleasure, and the sight of him coming undone above me makes my insides clench with need.
His chest rises and falls as he catches his breath, his palm coming up to stroke my hair and brush across my face, rubbing his seed into my skin.
“So good to me,” he praises. “So absolutely perfect.”
My chest warms, satisfaction wrapping around me like a heated blanket on a winter’s night. I lean into his touch. “James?”
“Yes, darling?”
“I think I love you.”
