He rinses me off, showering more praise and care and affection on me. He finishes by kissing me, slow and deep, and I feel him stiffening against me already. “Fynn,” I whisper, grinning.
He reaches down between my legs. One finger slowly rolls from top to bottom and he places it between his lips, sucking my juice from it. “I think you’re ready too.”
I turn and face the wall, palms against the cold tile, as he envelopes me. He takes me that way, slowly at first, praising me, telling me how perfect I am, fucking me nice and deep until we finish in a screaming, wild frenzy. He fills me to the brim for a second time, and I’m dizzy with need for him when we’re done.
He repeats the process of cleaning me, like it’s a ritual. This time, we escape without fucking. At least until we reach the bed.
It’s wild and savage. I’ve never had this much consecutive sex in all my life, but the night drags on. He licks me, kisses me, teases me, driving me to the edge and beyond over and over again. We collapse, exhausted, and when I wake the next morning, he’s breathing like a bear and I’m still in his arms.
I pull away slowly, my bladder full. But he grumbles and holds me tighter. “Fynn,” I say, smiling stupidly. “Please.”
He lets me go with reluctance and I hurry to the bathroom. When I’m done, I stand in the doorway and look at him as he gazes back. I’m naked, not a stitch of clothing on my body, and there are little red marks all over my flesh. Marks from him.
“You look incredible,” he says quietly. “How did I live this long without you?”
“You’d better stop or I won’t believe you anymore, you know.”
He chuckles and shakes his head. “You’ll believe me when my hard cock’s buried inside of that soft, soaking little cunt.”
Despite the utter depravity of the night before, I find myself blushing. “You’ve gotta stop.”
“And you’ve gotta get back in this bed and ride me until you scream.”
I shake my head, grinning, and drift away to put on my clothes. “We have a session soon. You need to get up, eat breakfast, and meet me at the gym in—” I check the clock and groan. “Twenty minutes, apparently.”
“It’s that late?” He frowns and sighs. “Well, fuck.”
I wipe my face with both hands and the day before comes trickling back. My mother’s phone call, Fynn beating himself up in the gym, his pain and suffering so horrible to witness.
“I should go.” But I don’t move. He’s staring at me with fire in his eyes.
“Maybe you should, but you don’t have to.”
“Fynn—”
“Come here, Mirella.”
I hesitate, but I drift closer. I didn’t get very far with the clothes. I’m still naked. Still vulnerable.
He grabs me and pulls me against him as he sits up on the edge of the bed.
“You’re mine,” he says, gripping my ass. “Do you hear me?”
“I hear you.”
“Good.” He kisses me softly. “Doesn’t matter what happens. You’re mine.”
“Fynn, should we—Should we talk? About this. About… a lot of things.”
He shakes his head. “No, not right now. But we will.”
“My mom called me yesterday. She seemed like something was wrong, and I’m a little worried. I don’t know, maybe I’m overreacting, but she wanted me to come see her and I’m just—” I stop myself, unable to keep going. It spills out of me before I can stop myself.
He frowns with concern. “Your mother wants to see you?”
“I don’t know what’s wrong. She sounded worried, but maybe it’s nothing.”
“I spoke with Casso about your father. He said he doesn’t think your old man is a traitor. Does that help alleviate some of your worry?”
“I’m not sure,” I say honestly, though that does raise more questions than it answers. How does Cillian know me? How is my father involved in all this? “Maybe I should go to my mother. Just for a few hours—”
“No,” he says firmly, squeezing me harder. “It’s too dangerous.”
“Fynn—”
“I forbid you. I know you want to see her, but I can’t guarantee you’ll be safe outside of this house. Stay here, Mirella. Call your mother and talk to her that way. But you cannot go to her.”
I push away from him, that old anger coming back. “You can’t forbid me. You don’t—”
“Own you?” His eyebrows raise. “I do though. I know you don’t like it, but believe me, I have your best interests at heart. Stay here, do not go to your mother.”
“I’m not a prisoner.” I back away and grab my clothes from the floor. It’s my bathing suit and cover-up, but that’s all I have at the moment, so I put it back on. “You can’t tell me when I can and can’t see my own mother.”
He looks frustrated and snatches a pair of shorts from the floor. He pulls them on. “I know you aren’t used to this life, but trust me when I say that you do not want to go see your mother right now. Obey me, Mirella, and I will keep you safe.”