Flames POV
At exactly Two hours' time, I was home.
I pushed forward, my head still ablaze with anger and frustration. Ash followed behind me, silent and loyal, his presence obnoxiously constant. I didn't glance his way as I mounted the stairs.
"Where are you going?" I barked, not turning around.
"Following orders," he said. "I stay close. Always."
I froze. My hand clamped on the highly polished railing. "You're not going into my room. It's off limits."
"I won't be able to protect you outside of it."
I turned slowly, my eyes pinning him where he stood. "You'll regret entering there, Ash."
He didn't even blink. "So be it."
I said nothing further. Let the idiot lag behind. Let him look.
I flung open the door and went in. The scent of need was already in the air—amiliar, musky, electric. There, tied to the iron posts of my bed in white silk string, was a man. My black pill. Radiant flesh. Blindfolded eyes. Naked and lovely still—obedient.
Ash came in behind me and stood rooted. Waiting too, mute, uninvited ghost in the doorway, his presence blatant disregard for my sharp-cut order. Fine. He wanted to watch? He would.
I moved toward the bed unaware of Ash, my gaze fixed on the man who waited for me. My fingers traced the sharp edge of his jaw, the heat of his skin a jarring counterpoint to the icy rage still smoldering within. He gasped, a hungry sound. "Don… oh, Don…"
My own breath hitched as I leaned in, my lips against his ear. A low groan escaped me, a raw sound that vibrated with pleasure and rebellion. My hips strained against his, a deliberate provocation. "Yes," I gasped, my voice husky. "Like that."
My movements became bolder, more feverish. I pushed him harder, faster, my own ragged gasps echoing his more anguished cries. "Oh, yes… Don… fuck…" he gasped, his body contorting in the restraints. The coarseness of his words served only to enhance the dark pleasure writhing inside me.
My hand wandered between our lubricated bodies, my fingers probing into the wet heat there. He shrieked, high and desperate. "Don… please… fuck me, Don…"
The rhythm became tighter, the rub increasing to fever pitch. My own noises were more animalistic, less pleasurable, more raw, raw need for unloading. "Beg," I snarled out, my hands fisting his shoulders. "That's right."
As the verge of oblivion seemed to draw near, I saw Ash turn in the door, his back to me, a clear effort to distance himself from the profane spectacle.
Ash!" My voice cracked like a whip, cutting through the heavy air. He froze where he was. "You were told to leave. You disobeyed. Now you will experience the full extent of what you so stubbornly desired." Now I was looking at him in the eyes. I didn't stop riding the hard rod that plunged underneath.
He was standing there stock still for a lifetime, his back a plank of tension. And then he began to turn back, slowly, abysmally. His eyes were a muddle of mixed feelings, but his feet were fixed to the spot.
"Get back," I told him, my tone quiet and threatening. "Now."
Resentfully, he drew back, his eyes gazing into the rough intimacy that was spreading out before him. He stood back until he was only a blur against the wall, a held, quiet witness to my gritty, unflinching decadence.
The man beneath me was in the grip of sensation"Don… fuck… oh, Don…" shuddering the room. My own moans were deep and full-bodied as I rode him harder still, the wet heat between us a raw reminder of my mastery.
"Take it," I panted, my pussy clenching around him. "Beg for it." His responding screams were testament to my mastery.
The climax hit me like a brutal wave, my body convulsing around him. My howls mixed with his brutal shrieks, a cacophony of raw, pure release. I collapsed on top of him, my chest heaving, the odor of sweat and sex thick in the air.
Over the haze of aftershocks, my gaze strayed to the shadowy form against the wall. Ash. Still watching. My message received. Loud and clear. I was in command. Untouchable. And unmistakably intimidating.
I slid out of bed, the silk sheets rustling against my dampened skin like they, too, were disappointed. I did not look back. I had no reason to. His presence already bored me. The man—whatever his name was—had been a temporary fix, a forgettable pulse in the dark.
I waved a hand dismissively in his direction, like smoke I was done inhaling.
"Get out."
My voice didn't rise. It didn't need to. It had that fatal softness, the sort that curled around the ears like velvet and knifed below.
He just stood there, shocked, staring at me like he expected… more. Maybe a kiss. A thank you. Maybe some courteous lie about calling him back.
Fool.
"Now." The word crackled like thunder on porcelain, sharp and clean.
He fell. Yes, fell out of bed, still half erect, his ego shrinking faster than his erection. His hands searched for his clothes, shame masking his face as he couldn't look at me. I did not have the pleasure of watching him struggle. He was never the problem. He was the syringe, not the medicine. Just the instrument I used to silence something else.
The door shut behind him with a click. No sorry. No goodbye. Just the echo of emptiness returned.
And that's when I turned.
Ash was still standing there.
He hadn't moved.
Not a breath. Not a twitch. Just his eyes—locked on mine as though he could see beyond every carefully constructed barrier I'd raised over the years. His face, expressionless. Chiseled in self-control. And I? My robe hung open, loose and revealing, but I didn't bother to close it. What was the point? Modesty was for the guilty.
"You can go, too." I said low, flat. Of course I did not care. his going or staying meant nothing.
His jaw tightened, a muscle twitched. His lips tightened as if he was holding in a storm. Fists clenched at his sides, knuckles white. But he said nothing.
He walked to the door.
But it was not defeat. And it was not surrender.
No. That silence? That was something else entirely. was it anger bottled in silence? Or It was a goodbye that sounded like a threat. It was closing.
And the door… he didn't slam it like the man who left before him.
He closed it gently. Deliberately. Like he was sealing something.
I stood there for a moment. Then another. Until the silence became deafening.
Then I fell to the edge of the bed, knees buckling beneath me, robe slipping off my shoulder like a second sin. My hands grazed over my skin, searching for something. Comfort, perhaps. But finding only warmth and Uncertainty.
"Fuck," I whispered into the stillness.
I wasn't sure who I was cursing more.
Him...or me.