I try urging him to go harder by pulling on his hair, but he tugs on my hair back as if silently communicating he won’t follow my command.
Our limbs are so entangled that I don’t know where he starts and I begin. A sheen of sweat covers our bodies and the smell of sex lingers in the air like an aphrodisiac.
Aiden thrusts faster and sharper. A whimper-like moan escapes my lips when he hits a sensitive spot inside.
Without breaking his rhythm, Aiden pushes me so I’m on my back. His hands slip under my thighs and he flings both my legs over his broad shoulders.
He wraps his hand around my throat whether to keep me in place or as a threat, I don’t know.
And I don’t have time to think about it.
He pounds into me with renewed energy. The new angle causes my walls to contract.
The headboard creaks with every wild thrust and rock of his pelvis against mine. My heart palpitations are so fast, I’m scared I’ll have a heart attack.
It’ll be worth it.
“You’re so beautiful,” He groans, his rhythm turning rougher and faster with every word he says. “You’re maddening. You’re addictive. You’re fucking up everything.”
I don’t last.
Maybe it’s because of his words, the feel of him inside me, or his hand around my throat.
Or all of the above.
A wave slashes through me and I scream as I fall down with no landing in sight.
This orgasm is nothing like the ones I had before. It’s primal, raw, and so overwhelming that I can’t breathe.
Aiden continues his overwhelming onslaught, chasing his own orgasm. He goes on and on.
And on.
I’m at that delirious state like the other time. I feel so sensitive and sore, but I don’t want him to stop.
I crave the pain and the pleasure he brings.
I crave him.
His shoulders tense. I still, wanting to watch him fall over the edge as he did to me.
Aiden doesn’t let me.
He reaches down to my clit and teases it before thrusting into me one final time. I come again with a hoarse cry.
“Fuck,” he groans as warmth fills my insides.
Aiden remains inside me as he pulls me to him. My head rests on his chest, my ear against his heartbeat. His natural, but erratic heartbeat.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
I brush my lips against his skin and remain that way as my lids flutter closed.
Free.
Is this what freedom’s supposed to be like?
Chapter Thirty
Something warm envelops my skin almost like…
Water.
I startle awake, expecting to find myself in that murky, dark water from the nightmares.
My breathing returns to normal when I recognise my surroundings. I’m in my bathroom with its white tiles and pastel pink decor.
I’m also sitting in my half-full bathtub. Completely naked.
Warm water cascades from the faucet, slowly submerging my breasts.
Aiden faces me, but is staring sideways, fussing with my shampoo in all his naked glory.
I bite my lower lip as I openly gawk at him. There’s a primal quality to his beauty that drew my attention since the first time I met him.
His muscles flex with every move. The arrow tattoos slither with the rippling of his biceps. His cock is semi-hard, pointing in my direction. I wonder if it’s always in that state because I’ve never seen it flaccid.
“You’re finally awake, sleepyhead,” he says without lifting his head.
I let my hand roam in the water. I can’t believe Aiden is making me a bubble bath.
“How long have I been out?” I ask.
“About two hours.”
“And what did you do during that entire time?”
“Watched you.”
Watched you.
Damn him and how easily he can say things like that. If it were me, I would’ve never admitted it.
When I remain silent, he slides his metallic eyes up my body, and even though it’s covered with bubbles, it’s like he can see through them.
“I was also going through your Instagram.”
I gulp. “You go through my Instagram?”
He tilts his head to the side. “Why do you think I followed you?”
I always thought it was some bullying method, not that he was actually taking the following factor seriously.
“By the way, you still didn’t follow me back,” he says as if it’s something I forgot about.
“So why do you go through my Instagram?” I deflect.
He shrugs. “To see what you’re up to.”
“As in you’re stalking me?”
He grins. “I prefer inquiring.”
I splash water in his direction. “You’re incurable.”
“I’m curious…” he trails off. “Why do you never post your face?”
“What?”
“You have pictures of food, picturesque settings, your aunt and uncle, Reed and her brother, but there’s never a full shot of you. The only pictures of you are taken from behind or the side. There isn’t one picture where you look at the camera. It’s almost as if you’re scared of it.”
I lift my shoulder. “Not all of us love the attention.”
“Hmm. Why do I feel that’s not your case?”
When I don’t reply, he turns around to retrieve the shampoo bottle.
I gasp, the sound interrupting the cascading water.
Slash marks.
Aiden has two slashes down his back. They’re faded into his tan skin, and that’s probably why I haven’t noticed them before.
What happened to you?
The question is at the tip of my tongue when Aiden faces me slowly. The darkness in his eyes cuts through me like a thousand needles.
It’s like he’s fighting with demons — and they’re winning.
The expression disappears as fast as it appeared. His infuriating poker face erases any emotions.
“You must be sore.” He moves behind the tub and out of view. “I read that warm baths help.”
“Aiden…”
My voice catches in my throat, not knowing what to say. The scars appeared deep and old. They must’ve hurt like hell when he first got them.
Then it hits me.
Those marks must be the reason why Aiden is such a social anomaly. It must’ve been abuse. It looks so much like abuse.
Something inside me shifts and red, hot fury shoots through my veins. The need to hurt whoever did that to Aiden washes over me like a compulsion.
I want to kill them.
Aiden doesn’t say anything, he just shampoos my hair. His fingers glide over my scalp, massaging it. I tilt my head back and sigh in contentment.
“Aiden,” I speak more clearly this time. “Did your father…?”
“Jonathan King isn’t a violent man.” He sounds sarcastic. “He’ll sue you for defamation if hears you saying such nonsense.”
“Then who is it?”
“None of your business.”
“Well, I’m making it my business.”
“You’re not ready.”
“Try me.”