Page 36

A phone ringing startles me awake, and I’m half-dazed as I look around trying to remember where I am and what happened last night. It’s only when I feel Alexander’s strong arms tighten around me that it all comes rushing back. The party, the dress, the rosary beads, my body shudders at the memory, and Alexander uses the opportunity to pull me in even closer against him. Last night was perfect, all of it, from the way Alexander didn’t leave my side at the party, no matter who wanted to talk to him, to the way he let me break free right here in this bed. It was everything.

My phone stops ringing and I lay my head back down on his bicep, not ready to move, but then the loud, incessant noise just starts again. “Tell whoever it is to fuck off,” Alexander groans into the crook of my neck, sounding groggy and still half asleep. I huff a laugh, as I reach my hand out wide to find it.

When I finally grab it, I note the unknown caller ID, so quickly silence the ringer and reject the call. It’s only then I notice a barrage of notifications, from text messages to social media alerts. “What the fuck?” I mutter more to myself as I open the messages, but Alexander is once again pulling me against him.

“What’s the matter, baby?” he asks, leaning up so he can see my phone, and I know the second he sees the messages, as the tension is instant.

Unknown - Are you fucking kidding me?

Unknown - You’re such a hypocrite

Unknown - And you look fucking ridiculous in that dress

I ignore the messages and move to Instagram, opening it to find not just multiple tags in pictures of Alexander and I from last night, but a new one from Ben too. He never uses social media, not really, which means I completely forgot to block his account when I blocked his number. When I tap on the notification it takes me to a bunch of old pictures of us that he has uploaded, ones where we are cuddling or kissing and just generally acting like a couple, and I frown in confusion. The caption reads ‘me and my forever girl’ and it only makes me more confused. What the fuck is he doing?

“Does he know I had my tongue in his forever girl's cunt last night?” Alexander drawls, and I can’t help but snort a laugh at how little he gives a fuck.

“You’re insufferable,” I reply, shaking my head, exiting out of the pictures, and moving to the ones of Alexander and me.

Fuck there are so many, and how the fuck did they even know who I was to tag me? Not that I mind, but still, that was fast. There are so many pictures and all from different angles, each of them speculating who I am, and I’m just thankful that last night I looked good enough to be on his arm.

“You weren’t saying that last night when I was knuckle deep in your…” Alexander continues, but I quickly cut him off.

“Oh my god, stop!” I cry with another laugh, my cheeks starting to burn, as I toss my phone aside and he uses the distraction to drag me back, pinning me to the mattress beneath him.

We’re both still naked, which means I feel him everywhere, and from his teasing smirk, he knows it too, yet still his eyes are soft and searching, as he asks, “Are you okay?” One of his hands brushes my hair back from my head, and it’s so tender it almost makes me cry.

My heart does a weird thing inside my chest, as I nod slowly. “Yeah, I’m okay,” I tell him truthfully, and the funny thing is, I am.

I mean, should the Ben thing be worrying me more than it is? Probably, but I’m not sure how to feel anxious and worried when I am being truly cared for and cherished, for the first time in my life. Outside of my family, no one has ever gone to the lengths that Alexander has to know me, and I can’t find it within myself to care about Ben’s little tantrum over our breakup. Not when he is the reason for it, and not when I have found myself with someone better in every way possible.

“Good, because I’m starving,” he winks, and before I can ask if he wants to get dressed to go downstairs, he is sliding beneath the covers and trailing his mouth down to my pussy.

He presses my legs into the mattress, and has me screaming out two orgasms against his tongue before he drags me to the shower. There, he holds me up against the tiles, grinding into me like we did in the confessional, until we are both coming together. Then he soaps me down from head to toe, lathering every inch of my body, before rinsing it off. I do the same to him, and as he leads us into the closet to get dressed, it suddenly feels very domesticated, and I realize I have never had this.

A relationship that was easy and went with the flow, one built on friendship and mutual respect, and apparently now, mind-blowing orgasms, and we haven’t even defined if we are in a relationship. A thought that has me pausing slightly, watching him pull on a pair of sleek gray trousers. His toned and chiseled abs are still on display, and I bite my lip as I watch him pick out a shirt.

“Alexander,” I whisper, knowing that if I don’t ask now, it will eat away at me.

“Yes, love?” he answers, turning his stare to me with a smile, one that almost robs the words from my lungs, because why he is so fucking hot?

“What are we?” I ask, and he frowns a little, clearly not understanding me, and it almost makes me laugh, because it’s only now I can bet that he has never had this conversation before. “Like, are we friends, more than friends?” I ask, trailing off a little and hoping he will fill in the blanks, but the second I say the word friends, his entire persona changes.

“Friends?” he repeats in question with a laugh, discarding his search for a shirt, and casually strolling toward me with his pants still unbuckled. “Didn’t I fuck that word out of your pretty little mouth last night?” he asks, reaching me and gripping my chin between his fingers, and when I don’t say anything in response, he adds, “Hmm, guess not.” I open my mouth, but he shoves me back roughly against the bench, pressing his knees on either side of me. “I knew you were trouble, Aubree, but I never took you for a brat,” he adds, tugging on the belt of my robe until it loosens, and ripping it open until my tits are on display. “For that I’m going to punish you again, for my pleasure, not yours, and then you can tell me what you think we are.”

I’m too stunned to speak, so instead I just nod, and then watch as he leans forward and spits directly onto my tits, spreading it roughly with his fingers. “Take my cock out,” he demands, and my eyes fly back to him to find him still watching me. “Take it out and get it nice and wet for me,” he adds, and though I’m a little confused, I do as he asks, slowly pushing the pants down off his hips and gripping his huge cock.

It’s heavy and thick in my hand, the smooth skin hot to the touch, and I marvel at how small my fingers look wrapped around it. I stroke him a few times, pulling a bead of precum to his tip and then spreading it, but still it’s not enough. I look between him and his cock, wondering what the best course of action is, but he doesn’t say anything, just watches me trying to figure it out. His legs are straddling just below my chest, so I can’t reposition myself to use my mouth on him, so, the only thing I can do is bring my palm to my mouth and lick, drenching it with my spit, before using it again to cover his cock.

“That’s my pretty girl,” he praises, the words sending a thrill through me in a way Ben’s never did, and it only has me working my hand harder.

Once he deems his cock wet enough, he shoves my hand off, spitting once more on my tits, and then placing his cock between them. He fists each breast, smashing them together until he can make a vice for his cock, and then slowly rolls his hips, testing how well it works and groaning deeply, seemingly satisfied. Then he is fucking them, hard and rough with quick snaps of his hips, his fingers and thumbs pinching my nipples until I am crying out.

“Now, ask me your question again,” he demands, and I meet his stare, too turned on and confused to understand.

“What?” I ask on a moan, forcing my head back into the bench, as my legs begin to squirm.

“Ask me your question about what we are,” he adds, his jaw tight and words gritted, and he snaps his hips in quick succession.

“Are we friends?” I force out shakily, and his answering grin is nothing but wicked.

“I don’t know, love, does it feel like I’m your friend when I fuck your tits?” he asks, fucking them even harder, as if punishing me for even thinking it, let alone asking. “Did it feel friendly when you came all over my face and tongue? Or how about when you dry humped my cock instead of confessing your sins? Was that friendship bonding too?” he grits, getting angrier the more he fucks me, and all I can do is lay back and take it.

“No,” I cry, flicking my eyes down, my mouth watering at the sight of his cock going back and forth, and I can’t stop myself from dipping down my chin and holding out my tongue.

“Look at you, so fucking friendly looking for a taste of my cock,” he grunts, thrusting forward and then holding himself against my tongue. I swirl it around him as much as I can, savoring the deep, masculine moan that roars from the back of his throat. “Fuck, Aubree, you drive me fucking crazy. Fucking friends,” he shakes his head with a humorless laugh, pulling back and fucking me again, holding my tits even tighter. “I told you what would happened if you kissed me again, love, you’re fucking mine, so I don’t want to hear one more fucking word about friends,” he hisses, tossing his head back as his body starts to shake.

Cum explodes against my chest and chin, as he jerks himself between my breasts through his orgasm, and it’s honestly the hottest thing I have ever witnessed in my life. I open my mouth to tell him just that, but before I can he is pulling away, dropping down and lapping at my cum-covered chest and cleaning himself off me.

Then he presses his hand around my throat, opens my mouth with his thumb and spits again, shooting his cum into my mouth, before closing it again. “Now, swallow it like a good little sinner,” he demands, and I obey him instantly, his eyes darkening in delight as he watches me. “Now tell me what you are?” he asks again, and I swallow once more, licking the remnants of him off my lips.

“I’m yours,” I whisper, and he nods, squeezing my throat roughly.

“That’s right, you’re mine, and I’m yours, so don’t fucking question it again.” Then he pushes off me and strolls back across the closet, like the last ten minutes didn’t even happen.

Well, I guess that’s that. Alexander Reign is my boyfriend.