Page 8 of Ruthless Desires, Vol. Two (Ruthless Desires Series Extended Editions #2)

Rhett

Once we’re in the penthouse, none of us stay up for long. Oliver has to be at the condo by six since that’s when Ludo and his men are leaving. We’re only guarding Aubrey for the first three days of the trip, and only until mid-afternoon. The easiest way to split it up is one of us with her a day, and Oliver volunteered to take the first shift.

We might all end up together, though, considering how well Aubrey and Wren seemed to hit it off. I guess that depends on Wren, though. After her declaration outside, I was hoping she’d be able to sleep peacefully. But unfortunately, peaceful is the last word I’d use to describe her as she gets ready for bed.

She’s quiet, but she’s restless. While she brushes her teeth, she shifts from foot to foot. And once she emerges from the bathroom in her pajamas, she’s frowning.

“Sweetheart.”

“Hmm?”

She focuses on pulling back the blankets on the bed so she doesn’t have to look at me.

“What did he say to you?”

At the anger in my voice, she looks up. “He…”

Her voice wavers, so she clears her throat.

“He called me a coward.”

“What?”

“He’s wrong,”

she says decidedly as she climbs into bed.

“And what he thinks doesn’t matter.”

“Wren…”

I lower myself onto the edge of the mattress and place my hand on her thigh.

“Do you think it’s true?”

she whispers.

I almost laugh.

“Oh, absolutely not. You’ve had so many brave moments over the past couple weeks, sweetheart. You’re far from a coward in my eyes.”

That seems to give her some amount of peace. With a sigh, she pulls the blankets over her shoulders.

“Are you… are you coming to bed?”

“No. But I’m staying in here with you, don’t worry.”

She relaxes even more.

“Thank you.”

I kiss her forehead before shutting off the light.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Goodnight.”

There’s a desk in the corner of the bedroom, so I sit there, angling my laptop away from Wren and lowering the brightness so it doesn’t disturb her.

If I’m going to stay up, I might as well work. Lately I’ve been focusing on doing deep dives into Ludo’s inner circles. First, his peers and allies, and second, his trusted employees. Security, his right-hand man, his most favored enforcers, et cetera.

Over the past week, I’ve found a few things of interest. Possibly the top one is that the Stallards—Aubrey’s family—are close friends with a couple of the judges in the Philadelphia area. On its own, it’s nothing of importance. But when it’s paired with the fact that Ludo had lunch with two different judges last week, a pattern starts to emerge.

Everything I find, I meticulously add to our shared spreadsheet. It’s where we keep everything of importance in regards to Ludo’s downfall. For a plan as complicated as ours, we have to keep our facts straight.

For about an hour, Wren tosses and turns in bed. Her breathing doesn’t even out, so I don’t think she even dozes off. When I glance over at her, she’s staring at the ceiling, but I don’t think she’s registering it. In fact, I don’t think she’s here at all. Not in the ways that matter.

“Wren?”

She blinks. “Yeah?”

“What do you need, sweetheart?”

I keep my voice low, not wanting it to carry to Elliot and Oliver’s room.

“For my mind to shut off,”

she whispers. Slowly, she turns her head so she’s looking up at me.

“It won’t stop. It’s one chaotic, anxious thought after another, and I can’t seem to break away.”

“And how do you get your mind to shut off?”

“Reading, usually. But I don’t want to turn a light on.”

For a moment, I’m not sure what to do. But then an idea forms in the back of my mind. It’s one I might regret—I’m not sure—but I’m a man of my word. I’ll always do what I can for them.

I pull my shirt over my head and climb onto the bed.

“Can I touch you?”

The blankets rustle as she turns to face me. “Yeah.”

Pushing the covers back, I slip my arms underneath her and pull her into my lap so she’s straddling me. I lean against the headboard, placing her hands on my chest and covering them with my own.

“Explore me.”

“Explore you?”

With a nod, I murmur, “Use your hands. Touch whatever parts of me you’d like. And ask whatever you want.”

She has questions—I know she does. Opening up is like pulling teeth for me, but maybe if I know it’s going to help her, it’ll be easier to stomach.

“You’re sure?”

“I don’t say things I don’t mean, sweetheart.”

Her fingers brush over a small scar on my chest. There’s no way she can see it in the dark, which means she’s noticed it before.

“What’s this from?”

“Tripped and fell in the woods when I was a kid. Wouldn’t’ve scarred, but I couldn’t stop picking at it.”

With a low hum, her hands move up my pecs to my shoulders. Her hands are warm and soft against my skin in a way that soothes some of my pain away.

As her fingers skirt across my cheekbones, I blow out a slow breath and close my eyes. She touches my jawbone, then my chin, and then I feel her thumb brushing over my lips. I try to focus on the way she feels against me instead of on the act of closeness.

You’re in control now. She’ll listen if you tell her to stop.

Eventually, Wren moves back to my shoulders and down my arms. Once she reaches my wrists, she pulls them upward, and her lips press against the back of my right hand. Again, it’s too dark to see my tattoo, but she knows it’s there. Her kiss is reverent, almost mournful, and her tone matches when she asks, “Why a butterfly?”

“Sammy loved them.”

My throat instantly aches, and my voice is hoarse as I continue.

“The day she died, we were going to take her to an indoor butterfly garden back home. Me and the guys.”

Wren lets out a distressed sound, taking my hands in hers.

“She was so excited. It was all she talked about from the moment we told her we were going. I guess that was our mistake.”

I try to swallow down the lump in my throat.

“She was supposed to wait for me after school. She stayed there for their childcare program, and then when I was done with classes, I’d ride my bike over to the middle school, and we’d walk home together. My dad didn’t give a shit, so it was on me to get her home safely.”

Wren stiffens, bracing herself as she puts the pieces together.

“Oh my god,”

she whispers.

“There were chronic under-staffing issues at her school. The people in charge of the after-school program were spread too thin, so when Sammy slipped out, no one noticed for a couple minutes. By then, she was gone. She was so excited, and she just wanted to see the butterflies sooner. Who could blame her?

“By the time I got to the school, they’d called my dad three times, but he hadn’t picked up. No one thought to call me even though I was always the one who came for her. When they told me they couldn’t find her, I fucking panicked. Rushed home, praying I’d find her skipping down the sidewalk, but I never did. I called Ell and O, and they immediately showed up to help me look, but it was pointless. She was gone by then.”

“Rhett,”

Wren whispers, her grip on my hands tightening.

“The police showed up later that night. Sammy had gotten lost and ended up a few blocks off course. Police say maybe she saw something she shouldn’t’ve, or maybe she caught a stray bullet during a hit job. We lived in a fairly violent neighborhood. Cops barely even batted an eye at a little girl dying. Don’t think they particularly cared.”

“They never figured it out?”

“Oh, they did,”

I say bitterly.

“They just didn’t tell us anything. I’m pretty sure they were paid off. We never stopped looking for answers, though. It took us a while, but eventually we got a name—Redback.”

“Ludo,”

she murmurs.

I nod.

“We’ve gathered a lot of information on him throughout the years. Once we realized that Ludo and Redback were the same person, we were able to put together a timeline of his career. When he killed Sammy, he was rising fast in the ranks as an enforcer. Ironically enough, he was working for Edgar Williams at the time.”

Silence fills the room as I try to breathe through all the emotions clawing up my throat. Everything is so much more potent tonight. Being this close to Ludo feels like all the happy parts of my life are shriveling up, withering away. The only thing left is an all-consuming hate. Too often, I get lost in it.

I don’t want to do that tonight.

“I wish you could’ve met her.”

The words are nothing more than a raw rasp. My hands find Wren’s hips, and I hold on to her, wondering if I can use her as an anchor so I don’t drown in all the anger and hate.

“I think you two would’ve gotten along well. If we’d just kept it from her for a little longer…”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It is. I came to terms with it years ago, Wren. It’s okay.”

“You were a child.”

“I was seventeen. Barely a kid. I was the only one who was there to protect her, and I let her down.”

“No!”

she exclaims. There are tears in her eyes, and the force with which she shakes her head makes them fall onto her cheeks.

“Shhh,”

I whisper, thumbing the tears away.

“We have to keep it down.”

“You shouldn’t have to feel this way. Shouldn’t think that of yourself! There’s no way you could’ve known, Rhett.”

She’s clutching my arms, practically pleading with me.

It’s the same stuff I’ve heard over and over again from Elliot and Oliver, which is ironic. Hell, even Finn has tried to reason with me. Maybe they’re right, but how can I fully believe that? I’m her big brother. I was supposed to keep her safe.

“It’s funny, though, how different people place blame in the midst of a tragedy,”

I say quietly.

“What do you mean?”

“My dad blamed me. Of course he did. But Elliot and Oliver, they both found ways to blame themselves instead of me. Elliot for not pressuring his parents more to pay for Sammy and Maria to go to better-funded schools, and Oliver… he’s the one who told her we were going to take her to the garden. He just wanted to make her happy, that’s all. But it backfired tremendously.”

“Do they still blame themselves?”

“Sometimes, I think. But it’s… a different kind of blame. A what if-type blame. When it comes down to it, Ludo is the one who pulled the trigger. Regardless of our mistakes, he’s the one who killed an innocent child, not us.”

Wren leans her forehead against mine as her hands travel back up my arms to rest on my shoulders.

“I’m sorry, Rhett. I’m so sorry.”

I sigh. In hindsight, this was a horrible idea. The hopeless panic may be gone from Wren’s eyes, but an inconsolable sadness fills them now.

“I shouldn’t’ve dumped all of this on you tonight,”

I murmur.

“Not when you were already emotional.”

“It’s okay,”

she replies softly.

“I needed to know at some point.”

“Yeah, but—”

She presses a finger to my lips, silencing me.

“Thank you, Rhett. For opening up to me. I know it’s difficult.”

There’s nothing to say to that, so all I do is nod. Her arms slip around me in a reassuring embrace, and I tighten my hold on her as well.

I can barely remember the time in my life when I liked being hugged. Fucking craved it. Now I have to fight past the memories, past the gut-instinct repulsion. Maybe one day I’ll want it again.

I hope.

As Wren presses her face into my neck, she murmurs, “He’ll get what he deserves.”

I hum in agreement and close my eyes. I’m not sure how long we stay like that, trying to find solace in each other’s arms. At some point, I worry that I’ll have to wake her when I inevitably have to slide her off my lap.

There’s something about our interaction that makes me want to keep her here all night, though. The absence of maliciousness? Her insistence that Sammy’s death wasn’t my fault? No—no, that’s not it.

It’s that she didn’t touch me until I told her twice that she could. She’s such a stark contrast to my father that she creates this sense of safety wherever she goes. I think I’ll always admire that about her.

I rub her back as a thread of guilt slivers through me.

Why her? Why can I touch her more but not Elliot and Oliver?

For a split second, I’m worried. Terrified, even. I don’t want to love Wren more than the guys. I want to love them all with the same passion, the same care. But just as soon as the thought enters my mind, I realize I could never feel for one more than the other. Elliot and Oliver are essential parts of me. Wren may not be yet, but we’ll get there.

Before I can dwell on it more, Wren nestles into me, like she’s trying to get closer even though she’s as close as she can get. When a small moan escapes her lips, I pause my hand on her back.

“Are you awake?”

I whisper.

“Mmhmm. Are you tired?”

“Not enough to sleep.”

She angles her head upward and kisses my neck.

“Is there anything I can do to help you?”

“No. But thank you.”

She sits up and strokes a hand over my hair.

“Of course. I… I’ll always help if I can.”

“I know you would,” I murmur.

She releases a long breath, tilting her head as she watches me. I’m sure I’m nothing more than a shadow—that’s all she is to me, considering how dark it is. But I can just barely make out a gleam in her eyes, a reflection of the little light that’s made its way through the curtains.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?”

Her voice is low, almost timid.

“You can’t see me.”

She laughs, although it’s more like an amused exhale.

“I know what you look like, silly. I’d never forget a face like yours. But I… I guess I meant you.”

She taps her finger against my chest.

“Life hasn’t treated you fairly, and you could’ve let yourself be consumed by bitterness and anger. You could’ve turned into such a hateful person, but you didn’t.”

Now it’s my turn to laugh, although it’s more sad than anything else.

“Depends on the day, sweetheart.”

“You try,”

she says gently.

“That’s all anyone can do.”

“I suppose.”

“And I admire you for what you’re doing. For fighting to get justice for Sammy.”

“She deserves justice.”

“So do you,”

she whispers.

“And I’m here with you every step of the way until you have it.”

Her breath skates across my cheek, her lips so close to my own it’s almost a kiss.

Once again, I’m struck by how well Wren has adjusted to our life. She’s having her troubles—of course she is—but none of them are because our goal for the last ten years has been to dismantle Ludo’s life and then kill him, slowly and sweetly.

She’s too fucking perfect.

Ever so slightly, I shift, catching her mouth with mine. She lets out a surprised sound before relaxing and grabbing at my hair. My own hands travel farther up her waist, careful to move over her shirt instead of dragging it upward.

I’m not sure who deepens the kiss, or who feels the potent, heady need first. But one moment the kiss is perfectly chaste, and the next Wren is panting into my mouth and I’m groaning into hers.

As I cup her breasts, her grip on my hair tightens. I almost stop, worried I’ve gone too far when she doesn’t want me to, but then she grinds against my hardening cock. My thumbs swipe over her peaked nipples, and she whines.

So goddamned hot.

Almost as if it has a mind of its own, one of my hands continues up her body until my fingers are wrapped around her throat. I keep my grip firm without squeezing, groaning as she rolls her hips again.

Her whine turns into a series of whimpers as I play with one of her nipples and hold her while she continues grinding against my dick. I’d keep her like this until she’s crying and begging for more, but that’s not what either of us need right now. What we need is—

Fuck. Not this.

Shit, this is a bad idea.

It’s the last thing I want to do, but I break off the kiss.

“I don’t want to use you. Not when you’re upset.”

Her shoulders sag at the realization.

“I don’t want to use you, either,”

she whispers.

“But I want to give you a distraction.”

As I peer at her through the darkness, she places her hands over mine where they’ve slid to her waist. I want her—how could I not? My problem is that I don’t want her to feel obligated to make me feel better. That’s no one’s responsibility but my own.

Sensing my hesitation, she smiles, and I swear it actually lights up the room a bit.

“I think I could use one too. But only if you want.”

Relief billows through me.

“Of course I want to, sweetheart.”

Instantly, I’m grabbing her throat again, pulling her forward and fusing my mouth to hers. She sighs against my lips, and it’s such a sweet sound.

She deserves justice.

So do you. And I’m here with you every step of the way until you have it.

The guys and I have made it clear that we don’t own each other. We’ve done the same with Wren, except a time or two in bed. Secretly, though, I’ve always disagreed. Elliot and Oliver each own a piece of me, pieces I never thought I’d give to anyone. And now, with Wren, I don’t think I even have a choice in the matter.

I belong to the three of them, body and soul. Irrevocably.

“Wren, fuck.”

I shift us, pushing her onto her back and shoving her legs open more. It’s not until I’m covering her body with mine and pinning her wrists to the mattress that I even realize I’ve done it.

She cranes her neck upward, searching for me, and I oblige her with my mouth on hers. It’s harder than I normally kiss her, but how can I stop myself? Everything seems to be falling into place, and she fits so goddamn perfectly.

Wren’s legs wrap around my waist, pulling me down until I’m pressing into her so much I’m afraid I’m crushing her. If I am, she doesn’t seem to care, too focused on keeping her lips moving against mine. Slowly, I ease up, turning our kiss into a bunch of smaller ones.

“Rhett,”

she moans. She tries to follow me, but I have her held down enough that she can’t. After struggling for a moment, she gives up.

“We’re with you too, you know.”

“W-what?”

I kiss her again—can’t help it.

“You said you’re with me. We’re with you, too. Through everything, Wren. Processing what you had to go through with Jordan, dealing with your family, figuring your life out, all of it.”

Forever.

“I know,”

she whispers. This time when she reaches for me, I let her wrap her arms around my neck, and I lean on my elbows.

“It’s hard to believe sometimes, but I… I know.”

“What do you mean, hard to believe?”

She lets out a quiet, nervous laugh.

“I’m not used to being so thoroughly cared for.”

I smile, dropping my forehead until it’s touching hers. I know the feeling. Oliver and Elliot did the same for me.

“Now you’ll never have to go a day without it.”

Before she can respond, I’m kissing her again. I grab at her hair with one hand and snake the other between us. She has to unhook her legs from around me to make room, but the moan she makes when I press the heel of my palm to her clit makes me think she doesn’t mind.

“Rhett,”

she gasps, rubbing herself against my hand.

“Shhh. You have to keep it down. Ell and O need to sleep.”

With another moan, she presses a hand over her mouth. The other clutches my arm as she works herself against me. Her panties are already soaked through, and I groan as she coats my palm with her arousal.

“Please take them off,”

she whispers.

“Please, Rhett, please.”

Hooking my fingers into her panties, I slide them down her legs before tossing them to the side. Gripping her thighs, I hold them open, wishing a light was on so I could see.

For a second, I stay frozen like that, unsure of what to do first. I somehow need to devour her while simultaneously burying myself inside her.

Wren sits up, pulling at my shorts and boxers until they’re halfway down my legs. I have to fall back on my ass to get them off the rest of the way. As I throw them onto the floor, Wren crawls in between my legs. I can just make out her silhouette as she takes my dick in her hand.

It takes a conscious effort to keep my groan quiet when she sucks on the tip of my cock. Her hand moves up and down in time with her head, pulling sensations out of me that make it hard to stay upright.

“Fuck,”

I mutter, leaning back and resting on my elbows. Her moans only add to how good it feels.

“Wren, I need…”

I don’t finish the sentence—don’t know how to. The words to describe how I’m feeling are lost on me, or maybe they don’t even exist.

She lifts her head up. “Tell me.”

“I…”

With a shake of my head I know she can barely see, I sit up again.

“You. I need you.”

She gasps when I throw her onto her back. I hover over her, rubbing my thumb back and forth on her inner thigh. When she squirms and whines quietly, I finally move in and brush a finger over her clit. Trying to not make much noise, she clamps both hands over her mouth to stifle the sounds she can’t help but make.

“I love having you all to myself,”

I tell her lowly.

“Getting all your moans and your desperation and your needy little cries. Fuck, Wren.”

Wren whimpers, and one of her hands comes up to grab my arm. Like this, I know she’s mine—I know I own a part of her just like she owns a part of me. I don’t plan on letting her forget it.

After a minute, I switch to rubbing her clit with my thumb. One of my fingers slips into her, curling against her front wall.

“Oh my god!”

Wren’s hand flies from her mouth to grip the comforter.

“You have to stay quiet, sweetheart.”

“I’m trying, but the way you—ahhh, fuck—”

she gasps out when I add a second finger inside her.

“It feels… too good.”

“Put your hand back over your mouth.”

She does, but her cries only get louder as I add more pressure inside her. They’re barely muffled, and it’s definitely enough to wake Elliot and Oliver.

“Fuck,”

I grunt, pulling my fingers out and crawling over her.

“Open your mouth.”

Once she does, I shove my fingers inside, and she instantly starts sucking them clean. Her tongue flicks against them, and she moans.

Why is that so hot?

Withdrawing my fingers, I grip her jaw and keep her mouth open. Then, lowering my face until it’s hovering just above hers, I spit into her mouth.

“Swallow it.”

She obeys with a whimper before parting her lips and sticking out her tongue. Shit, I didn’t even have to ask.

“Such a good girl,”

I murmur, grabbing her panties and dragging the soaked part across her tongue, forcing her to taste herself more.

“Now we just need to make sure you don’t make any noise.”

I shove her panties into her mouth.

Her surprised cry is muffled by the fabric and my hand, which I keep clamped over her mouth.

“You can take them out once you’ve proven you can stay quiet. Now replace one of your hands with mine. It stays there, understood?”

She grunts in frustration, but she nods, holding a hand over her mouth. All she has to do is keep it down, and I’m pretty confident this will help her remember.

Backing off, I settle in between her spread legs. Her shirt has ridden up some, exposing her stomach, so I pull it back down. I don’t move to take it off, and she doesn’t either.

Neither of us mention it, and that realization has my heart beating faster. Weeks ago, when we were first together, I’m pretty sure she would’ve asked permission to leave it on. Now she knows she doesn’t have to ask.

Thank fuck.

Grabbing her legs, I move them so I basically fold her in half. Her knees end up by her shoulders, and her ass is in the air. At this angle, there’s just enough light getting past the curtains that I can see how soaked she is. I let myself stare at her for a second before diving in.

Wren squeals, but she cuts it short. Not that it was that loud, anyway, thanks to her panties and her hand.

I lick her from entrance to clit, groaning against her. She tastes heavenly. It’s been too long since I’ve done this.

As I work her clit with my tongue, Wren moans helplessly, squirming against my hold. I keep her there, exactly how I want her, the perfect position to eat her out for however long I feel like.

When I suck on her clit, I expect her to scream, but she manages to bring it down to a wanton sob. Even when I don’t relent, she’s able to keep quiet.

Raising my head, I whisper, “You’re doing so well, sweetheart. I know you can keep it up. You can, right?”

“Mmhmm.”

The sound comes out differently than normal, but it’s still clear enough that I understand what she means.

I bend over her, careful not to crush her, and kiss the tip of her nose.

“Good girl.”

I swear, she practically melts into the blankets. Until I start circling her clit with my tongue again. The moment I do that, she tenses up, and I can almost feel how hard she’s trying to stay quiet.

I’m not sure how long it takes, but she comes faster than I wanted her to. If I could, I’d never stop, but I doubt this position is comfortable for her long term. So after she comes—and manages to only whimper quietly through it—I bring her legs back down.

She’s doing better, but it hasn’t been enough time to determine whether or not she’ll be able to stay quiet, so I don’t move to take her panties out of her mouth. Instead, I flip her onto her stomach and direct her to get onto her hands and knees.

Once she’s in position, I massage her ass, and she moans in anticipation. She doesn’t have a hand over her mouth anymore, but I think her panties stuffed in there serve as enough of a reminder.

Taking my dick in my hand, I rub it against her clit. She shudders. When I slide into her an inch, she immediately tries to take more, pushing back. I let her, smiling at her impatience as I fill her to the brim.

“Look up,”

I command, pulling out and sliding back in as she does. Then I lean forward and grab her hair. I hold onto it as an anchor as I pump in and out of her, listening to her strained whimpering.

If I could, I’d be sweet and gentle. It’s the kind of intimacy our previous conversation would lend itself to. But just like she’s struggling to stay quiet, I’m struggling to hold myself back. A need has taken over me—a need to claim her, to mark her, to make sure she knows I’m as in this as she is.

A couple days ago, I was doubting her feelings for us, worried this was just a rebound for her. I was wrong. So, so wrong. I know it now, but this conversation confirmed it more. She’s fucking ours.

“I need you up here.”

I release her hair, snaking my arm around her and hauling her up so her back is touching my front. I thrust into her, and the new angle has me groaning into her neck.

“So fucking good.”

The second my fingers wrap around her throat, she relaxes into me so fully it feels like she’s melting. It may seem like a little thing, but to me, it’s a signal of absolute, complete trust. She’s allowing me the power to take her life into my hands because she knows I’d never come close to playing with it.

With my free hand, I brush a finger over her hard nipples before traveling farther down. When I find her clit, she bucks against me, moaning a little too loudly.

“Shhh,”

I whisper soothingly in her ear.

“You can do it, sweetheart. I know you can. Come for me again, quietly.”

Both her hands grip my arm. I wonder what this feels like from her position—being choked, fucked, and fingered at the same time while not being able to make a noise. Good, I’d say, from the way she’s squeezing my dick.

As she gets closer to reaching her peak, her breathing grows more labored. I pick up my pace, and my god, she does so well keeping all those noises contained.

“I should fuck you like this more often,”

I murmur in her ear.

“My beautiful whore.”

A strained, tense noise escapes her. I’m so used to her screaming through her orgasms that it takes me a second to realize that phrase pushed her over the edge. Her body convulses against mine until I let up on her clit, still sliding in and out of her. It feels too good to stop.

I slow down, though, letting her recover and catch her breath. She slouches into me as a shudder runs through her.

“You think you can manage to stay quiet for one more?”

She whimpers, but she nods against my chest.

“And will you be good if I take your panties out of your mouth?”

Another nod, this one more enthusiastic.

“Open up.”

I take them out of her mouth, and she coughs. The fabric is soaked in drool, so I toss them into the hamper in the corner of the room.

“Fuck,”

she gasps. “I… fuck.”

Nuzzling my face into the crook of her neck, I start to pick up the pace of my thrusts again. It causes Wren to moan, but she keeps it soft enough.

“Rhett,”

she whispers, and I grab her chin and turn her head so she can look at me.

“Say it again.”

“Rhett,”

she groans, right before I slam my lips to hers. I love the taste of my name on her lips mixed with her arousal.

As I continue to fuck her, Wren’s breathing grows heavier and heavier. I touch her clit with my free hand, groaning when she clamps down on my dick.

“You’re staying so quiet, sweetheart,”

I murmur against her lips.

“I’m so proud of you.”

She whimpers, clutching my arms. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to last long enough to make her come again, not like this, so I ease out of her.

“Please don’t stop,”

she whispers.

“Rhett, please.”

“C’mere.”

I pull her with me as I sit against the headboard. She turns around and straddles me, and I help guide my cock back into her.

“Shit, Wren.”

Slowly, she moves up and down. She’s panting and moaning softly, lost in the sensations. This is exactly what I wanted—what she wanted. Both of us are so wrapped up in each other that our worries are barely distant thoughts. All I’m focused on is her, and all she’s focused on is me.

“Touch yourself,”

I command, smiling when she does so immediately.

“Such a good girl, Wren. Now give me your other hand.”

Once she does, I grip her wrist and move her arm so it’s behind her and pressed securely to her lower back. My other hand moves to her throat, holding her there as she fucks me.

“That’s it,”

I say lowly. She needs the reminder that she doesn’t have to think, doesn’t have to do anything other than what I tell her to. I’ve got her.

“You’re going to make yourself come just like this, aren’t you?”

Her sob is weak as she continues. My hand tightens on her wrist, keeping it pinned behind her back, while her other hand continues to work in between her legs. She’s gripping my dick tightly, so tense and needy.

“You… Rhett, you feel so good,”

she gasps.

“You love my dick, don’t you? Love fucking yourself with it and taking everything I have to give you like the cum slut you are?”

“Yes,”

she whimpers as her movements grow faster.

“I want your cum, Rhett, please.”

With a groan, I say, “You’re so goddamn sexy when you beg.”

Under any other circumstances, I wouldn’t be able to stand it. Her begging would crack my heart in two. But in bed? Fuck, I’ll never get enough of it.

“Please give it to me, Rhett,”

she whispers.

“I need it.”

I click my tongue.

“Aww, was Oliver’s cum not enough for you earlier? You need more? So greedy, Wren.”

“I am,”

she says, barely able to keep her voice low.

“I’m your greedy slut, and I need you to fill me up.”

“Then you’d better be a good girl and come on my cock, hmm?”

Desperately, she nods. I adjust my legs for better leverage, and then I start thrusting up into her. She gasps, and I can tell it’s taking everything in her to stay quiet. Her body gets impossibly tense, her back arches, and then she throws her head back.

“Oh, fuck,”

I groan as she comes. The contractions feel like heaven, and they pull me closer to my own orgasm.

“That’s it, sweetheart.”

“Rhett,”

she whimpers as her fingers slow over her clit.

“God, Rhett.”

I pull her down until her mouth crashes against mine. When she whines into my mouth, I pump into her one last time before giving her a break.

“Can you handle more?” I ask.

“Use me,”

she whispers.

“Fuck me like I’m your toy. Please.”

Holding her to me, I move us so she’s on her back again, all while staying inside of her. She moans into my shoulder and wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me close.

I prefer being able to see her in a position like this, but even with the lights off, it’s pure ecstasy. I start off with slow, deep thrusts that have me holding back a groan.

“Do you know how good you feel? Fucking hell, Wren. If I could keep you like this forever, I would.”

Her legs come around my waist, keeping my body as close to hers as she can. Her skin is temptingly soft, and I find myself burying my face in her hair. The floral scent of her shampoo fills my nostrils as I inhale deeply.

I don’t last long—rarely do in this position. Wren holds onto me as I come with a stifled moan.

“Fuck.”

I press into Wren one last time. As I shudder through the tail end of my orgasm, my lips find hers. The kiss is uncoordinated and sloppy because I can’t manage anything else. My mind is blank, all except for a single thought of her.

I can’t hold myself up, so I hold onto her and roll onto my back. Only then do I let myself relax. With Wren on top of me, it makes it harder to catch my breath, but I don’t care. I love feeling her limp, trembling body against mine, knowing I’m the one who did that to her.

“I’m pretty sure you already know this,”

she mumbles sleepily against my chest, “but you’re really fucking good at that.”

“So are you.”

I raise my head to kiss her forehead.

“My pretty toy.”

She yawns, already half asleep, before muttering, “I like being yours.”

My heart stutters. Really, I don’t know why. I’ve told her she’s mine. Ours. And I’m already hers as well. But hearing her say it out loud… it makes everything feel so much more real. Irreversible.

Easing into a sitting position, I say, “We need to get you cleaned up before you fall asleep.”

She grumbles some sort of protest, but at the same time, she drags herself out of bed and heads to the bathroom. After she pees, we take a quick shower, and then she falls back into bed. I’m not tired enough to sleep, but I think I might be able to get there, so I shut off my laptop and climb in with her.

The second I touch Wren, she snuggles up to me. Her arm flops over my stomach, and within minutes, her breathing evens out. For now, it seems like I fucked the anxiety right out of her. If she’s dreaming, she’s not having nightmares.

I hope she has a peaceful night. I always hope she does. Fuck, what I’d give to keep her happy and safe from the things that haunt her. Carefully, I pull her even closer to me and kiss the top of her head. She moans, nestling her head against my chest.

“I think,”

I whisper to her sleeping form, “I think I’m falling…”

Fuck. I can’t even say it out loud when she’s not conscious. Oliver has already said it, and I can’t imagine Elliot will be far behind. How will she feel if it takes me a lot longer? Will she understand? Or will she view it as me not caring for her?

What if I’m never able to say it?

Then you’ll show her. You’ll show her just like you do with Ell and O. You’ll do everything you possibly can.

The thought doesn’t calm my worries completely, but it helps enough that I can relax. I kiss Wren’s temple and close my eyes.

It takes an hour, or maybe longer, but eventually I drift off to sleep with my arms locked around the only woman on this planet I’d willingly lay down my life for.