The pressure silences her completely. Her eyes are wide, wild, on mine. She can still breathe through her nose, but she can't make a sound. Can't cry out. Can't beg.
And fuck, that makes everything more intense. I lock my eyes on hers as I roll against her, rubbing her just right, inside and out. "You're going to come for me," I say, my voice rough. "And you're going to be quiet while you do it. Understand?"
She nods frantically, her entire body coiling tighter and tighter beneath me.
I slide my hand from her breast down between us and find her clit. The moment I touch her, she shatters.
The orgasm hits her hard—her body convulses, her back arching off the bed, and she screams into my palm. I keep moving, keep touching her, drawing it out until she's shaking and gasping for air.
When I finally remove my hand from her mouth, she's wrecked.
And I'm nowhere near done with her.
"One down." I smile wickedly. "Two more to go."
She gasps. Before she can say anything, I pull out and thrust back in hard enough to make her eyes go wide again.
I lick up her neck and then whisper in her ear, "You're going to give me two more, sunshine, and then you're going to sleep in my arms knowing you're exactly where you belong."
She does. I make her come twice more—once more with my fingers on her clit and my cock buried deep, and once with my hand covering her mouth again as I finally let myself go.
Each orgasm is different. The first was sharp and desperate. The second is slower, deeper, rolling through her in waves that I feel clenching around my cock. The third is almost gentle—a soft, shuddering release that leaves her muffling herself against my shoulder as I empty myself inside her.
I pull out carefully and dispose of the condom before returning to unlock the handcuffs. Her wrists are red where the metal bit into her skin, and I kiss each one gently, massaging the marks with my thumbs.
"You okay?" I ask quietly.
She nods, her gaze shuttered.
Slipping into bed beside her, I pull her against my chest, wrapping my arms around her. She fits perfectly there, like she was made for me.
“You’re hogging up the whole mattress,” she murmurs against my shoulder.
I stroke her hair. “It’s not my fault you have a bed for toddlers.”
She snuggles in deeper. “It’s a princess bed.”
“Then no wonder you have it.” I kiss her forehead, soothing her back.
Yawning, she rubs her cheek against my skin. “If you call me princess, I’ll gut you.”
I hold her until her breathing evens out and she's finally asleep. I need to leave, but I stay and hold her a little while longer, watching the shadows move across her ceiling, planning what comes next and how to protect her from it.
If there’s one thing I know, it’s that the family you're born into doesn't mean shit. But the family you choose? That's everything.
And in the upcoming dark moments, I need to make sure Harper understands that I choose her.
51
HARPER
I’ve been anxious all day to talk to Dad, but I know work isn’t the place. I figure I’ll talk to him when he gets home.
I crane my neck to check the clock from my seat at the kitchen table. It’s 11:47 p.m. and he hasn’t shown up yet. Where the hell is he? His shift ended a couple hours ago.
He's been working late a lot lately.
I frown.