Page 20

Viktor's disgust still clung to my skin like cigarette smoke as we entered our hotel suite. Below us, Paris sparkled like scattered diamonds, the golden glow of streetlamps casting warm halos in the misty evening air. The Eiffel Tower stood as a sentinel in the distance, its lights a defiant beacon against the gathering darkness. But Ash's hands on my shoulders were already washing Viktor's judgment away, his touch reverent as he turned me to face the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city.

"Hold still," he ordered, his voice dropping to that low tone from our training sessions. "Let me look at you."

I caught my reflection in the mirror and froze, really looking at myself. The dress hugged my frame perfectly, the cut chosen specifically to soften the breadth of my shoulders and complement the line of my jaw. I'd learned long ago that androgyny wasn't about hiding features, but about finding the sweet spot where masculinity and femininity blurred into something uniquely mine. My brain immediately started cycling through possibilities. Was that what Viktor had seen? Just another disappointment to the family name? Would Ash eventually see the same thing and leave?

But no, there was something else in the mirror. The graceful curve of my neck, the perfect arch of my brows, the way the dress emphasized rather than denied the strength in my body. Neither fully masculine nor traditionally feminine. Both. Neither. Something entirely my own. In a country where politicians argued about whether people like me should even exist, every time I stepped out dressed as myself felt like an act of defiance. But it wasn't defiance that made me choose flowing silks over sharp suits, or delicate lace under tactical gear. It was simply the truth. My truth, hard-won and carefully protected.

"Hey," Ash murmured against my neck, hands sliding to my hips. "Stay with me, baby. Right here. Just feel..."

His fingers found the zipper of my dress, drawing it down with deliberate slowness. The whisper of fabric against skin grounded me, pulled me back from the edge of dissociation. This wasn't like all those times in club bathrooms, desperately trying to feel something real through chemical haze and stranger's touches. This was Ash, my handler, my protector.

"Look," he murmured as the dress slipped down. His eyes met mine in the reflection. "See yourself how I see you..."

The black lace beneath was delicate against my skin, a deliberate contrast to the knife holster still strapped to my thigh. In the mirror, I was a study in contradictions: deadly and soft, masculine and feminine, strong and vulnerable. The lingerie I'd chosen for tonight's mission felt like armor now, each piece carefully selected to draw the right kind of attention in the clubs where we thought we'd be working.

Ash's hands settled on my hips, thumbs brushing the knife holster with possessive intent. "Do you know what you look like?" His voice was rough with desire and something deeper. "How perfect you are like this? How much I want to taste every inch of you?"

"Show me," I challenged, letting my head fall back against his shoulder. In our reflection, I watched his pupils dilate. For the first time all evening, I felt completely, unshakably certain in my own skin.

"Perfect," he growled, one hand sliding up to wrap loosely around my throat while the other teased along my inner thigh. His eyes were dark with hunger. "Fucking perfect." His fingers found the hilt of my knife, drawing it from its sheath with practiced ease. "Want me to show you what that does to me?"

The blade whispered against my skin as he traced it along my collarbone. Not enough pressure to cut but enough to make my breath catch. This was nothing like training. This was pure possession, pure worship. Every touch was a prayer, every brush of steel against skin a benediction.

"Hold still for me," Ash murmured, his breath hot against my ear as he slipped the blade under the strap of my bra. "Let me unwrap my present properly."

The lace parted like silk beneath the sharp edge, falling away to reveal more skin for Ash to explore. Each cut was precise, controlled, just like everything about him. Just like how he'd cut through my defenses, my carefully maintained walls, until I had no choice but to trust him completely.

"You're trembling," he observed, voice dark with possession as he traced the flat of the blade down my sternum. "Are you afraid?"

"No," I breathed, watching the knife's path in our reflection. And it was true. I wasn't afraid. Not of Ash, not of the blade, not of how completely I belonged to him in this moment.

"Good," Ash purred, trailing the knife's edge along my ribs. "Because I'm going to take you apart piece by piece, baby. Show you exactly how precious every inch of you is to me."

He took his time, using the knife to cut away my remaining clothes until I stood naked except for my stockings and heels. Each newly revealed patch of skin received careful attention - kisses, bites, reverent touches that made me shake with need.

"Look at you," Ash murmured, pressing closer so I could feel how hard he was. The flat of the blade traced down my stomach, making my muscles jump. "Fuck, the way you respond to this..."

I whimpered, unable to form words as he continued his torturously slow exploration of my body. The knife's cool touch alternated with the heat of his mouth as he marked me, claimed me, worshipped every inch of skin.

"Tell me what you see," he commanded, meeting my eyes in the reflection.

"I see..." My voice cracked as he sucked another mark into my shoulder. "I see someone strong. Someone who doesn't have to choose between being deadly and being beautiful." The words came easier now, drawn out by his careful attention. "I see someone who belongs to you completely, Daddy."

"Yes," Ash growled, his free hand wrapping around my throat. His mouth found my pulse point, sucking hard enough to leave a deep mark. The sharp pleasure-pain made my cock jump, a bead of pre-cum already gathering at the tip. He pressed the flat of the blade against my inner thigh, making me gasp. "Look how hard you are for Daddy already. How much your pretty cock is leaking just from being marked up." His teeth grazed the fresh bruise. "Say it again. Tell me who you belong to."

"Yours, Daddy," I breathed, arching into his touch. My cock throbbed against my stomach, leaving wet streaks on my skin. Each new mark he left sent jolts of electricity straight to my groin, making me leak more. "Only yours. Please, need more..."

The knife clattered to the floor as Ash spun me around, claiming my mouth in a bruising kiss. His hands roamed over my body, touching every place the blade had marked, replacing the memory of cool steel with burning heat.

"Get on the bed," his voice was rough. "I need to taste you."

I obeyed, letting him arrange me against the silk sheets. The contrast of the expensive bedding against my skin reminded me of our cover, of the mission ahead, the clubs we'd have to work, the dangerous game we'd have to play with Roche. But right now, none of that mattered. Right now, there was only Daddy's worship, his possession, his complete acceptance of every contradictory piece of me.

"Fuck," Ash murmured against my skin, working his way up from my ankles. His lips and tongue traced each muscle, each scar. "You're so..." He trailed off, lost in the exploration.

I gasped as he found a particularly sensitive spot on my inner thigh, right next to where my knife holster had been. He sucked another mark there, making my cock twitch and leak against my stomach. The sight of his head between my legs, leaving his marks on my pale skin, was almost too much.

"Please, Daddy," I moaned, reaching for him.

"Hands above your head," he commanded, his voice rough with desire. "I want you to remember who you belong to every time you walk into those clubs."

The reminder of our mission, of the dangerous game we'd be playing, made my chest tight. But Ash's mouth on my skin grounded me, each kiss and bite a promise of protection, of possession.

"That's it," he praised as I gripped the headboard. "Such a good baby for me." His tongue traced the cut of my hip, making my whole-body shudder. "Going to mark you up so pretty. Make sure everyone knows you're taken."

The words sent a shiver through me that had nothing to do with physical sensation. The lingerie against my skin was a reminder of who I was choosing to be, not who anyone else demanded I become. Every scrap of lace, every soft curve created by careful tailoring, was an affirmation. In our line of work, we lived in the shadows, but I refused to hide this part of myself. Not anymore. Ash's acceptance, his fierce protection of who I was, made that choice easier every day.

"Yes," I gasped as he sucked another bruise into my hip, the sharp pleasure pulling me back into the moment. My cock was achingly hard now, pre-cum pooling on my stomach. "Mark me up, Daddy. Make me yours."

Ash growled against my skin, his hands spreading my thighs wider. "You’re already mine," he said, nipping at the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. "Just need to remind you."

I lost track of time as he worked his way up my body, alternating between gentle kisses and sharp bites that had me writhing. My cock throbbed with each new mark, leaving my stomach slick with pre-cum. The careful attention he paid to every inch of me was overwhelming, making my BPD brain quiet for once as I floated on the sensation of being completely owned, completely cherished.

When he finally reached my chest, I was trembling with need. His stubble scraped against my sensitive nipples as he marked up my collarbones, my shoulders, my neck. Each bite was followed by soothing licks and kisses, the contrast driving me wild.

"Look how much you’re leaking for me," he murmured, one hand trailing through the mess on my stomach. "So responsive, so perfect." His fingers wrapped around my length, giving me one torturously slow stroke. "Think you can come just from this? Just from me marking you up and telling you how beautiful you are?"

"Please," I begged, my hips bucking into his touch. "Need more, Daddy. Need you inside me."

Ash's fingers explored lower, slick with lube as he teased my entrance. His eyes were dark with hunger as he watched my reactions, like he was cataloging every gasp and shiver for future reference.

"Can I..." His voice was rough with desire and something that might have been nervousness. "I want to taste you. Never done this before, but..."

My cock twitched at his words. The thought of being his first, of teaching him this... "Please, Daddy..."

His first lick along my cock was hesitant, experimental, starting at the base and working his way to the tip. But the groan he let out against my skin was pure pleasure, like he'd surprised himself with how much he enjoyed it. His technique was clumsy, unpracticed—too much suction here, not enough there—but the enthusiasm more than made up for his inexperience. Just knowing that Ashley fucking Valentine, legendary profiler turned mercenary, was discovering his own desires through my body... it was intoxicating.

His slick fingers pressed inside me as he explored what made me gasp. "The sounds you make..." he pulled back just enough to speak, breath hot against my skin. "Fuck..." He dove back down, swallowing around me with more enthusiasm than skill, but god, if that wasn't even hotter.

A particularly well-aimed thrust of his fingers made me cry out. He hummed in satisfaction, the vibration sending shocks through my whole body. Three fingers now, stretching me wide as his mouth worked my cock with growing confidence.

"Daddy," I gasped, my thighs trembling. "I'm close, please..."

He pulled off just long enough to growl, "Go on, baby. Give me what’s mine." The words were rough with desire and wonder, like he couldn't quite believe how much he wanted this.

That did it. The combination of his fingers inside me and the knowledge that I was his first sent me over the edge. I came with a shout, spilling into his eager mouth. He choked slightly, clearly unprepared for the reality of swallowing, but he managed to take most of it, looking both surprised and deeply satisfied with himself.

When he finally pulled away, I was boneless against the sheets. But the hungry look in his eyes told me we were far from finished.

"So fucking beautiful," he growled, crawling up my body to claim my mouth in a filthy kiss. I could taste myself on his tongue, making me whimper. "Need to be inside you right fucking now," Ash growled, his voice rough with desperation. His cock was rock hard against my thigh, leaving wet streaks on my skin. "Can't wait anymore. Need to feel you."

My spent cock twitched valiantly at the raw hunger in his voice. This wasn't my careful handler anymore. This was pure animal need.

I watched through heavy-lidded eyes as he slicked himself up, his cock thick and flushed with need. He was bigger than anyone I'd taken before, but any anxiety about that was drowned out by how desperately I wanted him to wreck me.

"I’ll try to be gentle," Ash gritted out as he lined himself up, but the tremor in his hands betrayed how close he was to snapping.

"Don't you dare," I challenged, canting my hips up. "I want it rough, Daddy. Want to feel you tomorrow."

Something dark and hungry flashed in his eyes. "Careful what you wish for, baby," he growled, and then he was pressing inside me with one hard thrust that knocked the breath from my lungs.

"Fuck," he snarled, his fingers digging bruises into my hips as he bottomed out. "So fucking tight. Feel so perfect around my cock. Why did I ever fucking deny myself this?"

The stretch burned despite his prep, but the pain just made everything sharper, more real. He started moving, each thrust harder than the last.

"Yes," I gasped, gripping the headboard as each thrust shoved me up the bed. "Daddy... please..."

His control snapped completely. He grabbed my legs, pushing them back until my knees were nearly at my shoulders, opening me up for deeper penetration. The new angle had him hitting my prostate with every brutal thrust, making my vision go white at the edges.

"Mine," he growled, slamming into me with enough force to make the headboard crack against the wall. "Fucking mine. Been wanting this for so long. Dreaming about bending you over in the training room, making you scream for me."

My cock was hardening again despite my recent orgasm, bouncing against my stomach with each impact. Every thrust felt like he was trying to reshape me from the inside out, claim territory no one else had ever reached.

"Look at you," he panted, rhythm growing erratic. "So perfect... fuck, baby..."

He let out a sound more animal than human, releasing one of my legs to wrap his hand around my throat. The pressure was perfect, making my head swim as he used the grip for leverage to fuck me even harder.

"Gonna..." he snarled, squeezing just enough to make spots dance in my vision. His hips stuttered. "Fuck, baby, I need to..."

The possessiveness in his voice, combined with the brutal pace of his thrusts, pushed me over the edge. I came untouched, my cock pulsing as my release painted both our chests. The rhythmic clenching of my body around him made Ash growl.

"Fuck, baby, you squeeze me so fucking so tight when you come," he gritted out, his hips stuttering. "Gonna... fuck, can't hold back..."

He slammed in one final time, grinding deep as his cock pulsed inside me. The feeling of his hot release filling me up made my spent cock twitch valiantly. His grip on my throat loosened as he collapsed on top of me, both of us panting like we'd run a marathon.

"Shit," he breathed against my neck. "You okay? I got carried away..."

I clenched around him deliberately, making him groan. "Perfect," I assured him, loving how wrecked he sounded. "I’m going to be feeling that for days."

He shifted slightly, making me gasp as I felt his release starting to leak out of me. That's when the realization hit him. "Fuck, baby, I forgot the condom," he said, tension creeping back into his voice. "I got so caught up in needing you, I just..."

"That’s okay," I cut him off, clenching around him deliberately. "I like it this way better."

He groaned, his cock giving an interested twitch despite his obvious exhaustion. "You're going to be the death of me," he muttered, but there was pure satisfaction in his voice as he watched his release slowly drip out of me.

We'd have to get up soon, clean up and prepare for tomorrow's mission. But for now, I let myself float in the aftermath of being thoroughly claimed, marked inside and out as his. My whole body ached in the best way, and I knew I'd feel him with every step tomorrow.

Perfect. Tomorrow we'd play our roles in the clubs, hunting our target. But under my mission clothes, I'd carry these marks, these reminders that I was exactly who I was meant to be. Viktor's judgment couldn't touch that truth. Neither could anyone else's.