CHAPTER HUNDRED & EIGHTY

CHAPTER HUNDRED & EIGHTY
ASHLEY

couldn’t feel the world.

Not the silk sheets tangled beneath my back.
Not the muted hum of traffic from the streets below.
Not even the dull ache blooming low in my belly—the delicious kind that reminded me I was still very much alive.

All I could feel was him.

The heat of his skin, flushed and slick against mine.
The weight of his gaze—intense, unwavering, like I was the only thing in existence.
The way his fingers had made me forget my name, and his mouth… God, his mouth had made me remember it like a prayer.

My breath came in shallow bursts.
Chest rising.
Falling.
Like I’d sprinted miles.
But I hadn’t run.
I’d fallen.

Deeper.
Harder.
Again.

I was already soaked—so when he slid into me, it was effortless, yet still so sudden and deep that my body clenched in response, instinctively tight around him.

He hissed through his teeth, a low sound that shot straight through me, but he didn’t thrust. Not yet.
Not until my sharp whimpers softened into something breathless, something needier.
Not until my body adjusted to the thick stretch of him.

Only then did he pull back—slowly, deliberately—and push in again.
And again.
And again.

Each movement faster.
Deeper.
Harder.

Until his hips slammed into mine in a rhythm that made my spine arch and my fingers dig helplessly into the sheets.
He was relentless, hitting spots inside me that made my vision blur and my voice catch in my throat.

Thoughts scattered like smoke.
There was only sensation.
Only him.

My eyes fluttered closed—but then flew open again as his hand wrapped firmly around my throat, just enough pressure to still my breath and make my pulse roar in my ears.

He leaned close, lips grazing my cheek, voice like gravel and sin.
“You like this, don’t you?”

I couldn’t speak.
Not with the way his hand curved possessively around my throat.
Not with the way he kept driving into me—rough and unrelenting, like he was chasing something deeper than release.

So I nodded.
Barely.
A small, desperate tilt of my chin.

“You like it when I wreck your pussy while you make a mess all over my cock?”

His voice was a low snarl, filth-laced and feral, vibrating against the shell of my ear. My lungs refused to cooperate, drawing in shallow, ragged gasps that never felt like enough. I couldn’t respond with words—my throat was too tight, my body too lost in the overwhelming rhythm of him driving into me.

All I managed was a strangled sound, somewhere between a moan and a plea.
And still, it wasn’t enough.

The way he fucked me was brutal in its precision—each thrust calculated, merciless, like he knew exactly how to tear me apart and put me back together again with the drag of his hips.

I didn’t want him to stop.
God, I wanted more.
More of the pressure.
More of the stretch.
More of him.

I needed him to push me—harder, deeper—until I shattered completely.

Without warning, he flipped me onto my knees. My palms scrambled for purchase against the headboard, knuckles white as I braced for him.
Then he sank back into me from behind in one smooth, devastating thrust.

Hard.
Deep.
Perfect.

A cry ripped from my throat, only to be caught by his hand clamping over my mouth.
He was everywhere—his chest molded to my back, his breath hot on my skin, his hips slamming into mine like he wanted to brand me from the inside out.

“Mine,” he growled, voice rough and breathless. “You’re mine, Ashley.”

His hand loosened over my mouth just enough for me to gasp. But then he said something else, something raw, something that made every nerve in my body thrum.

“You don’t know what you do to me.”

There was no teasing in his voice now. No cocky edge.
Just need.
Ragged, painful, real.
The kind that wrapped itself around my heart and squeezed until I couldn’t tell where the pleasure ended and the ache began.

That voice.
That look—like I was the only thing that mattered in his world.
That truth, buried beneath all the chaos.

It shattered me.

The orgasm hit like a tidal wave.
I came with a sharp, gasping cry, my body tightening violently around him as my hands clenched into the sheets. I trembled as the pleasure wracked through me, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open in a silent scream.

He wasn’t far behind.

With a guttural groan, he thrust once more—deep and final—as his release pulsed inside me. His hands tightened on my hips, holding me there, as if letting go would mean losing everything.

And then there was only breath.
Loud, uneven, shared.

We stayed like that—tangled and trembling, breath mixing in the hush of the room, skin still slick with sweat, hearts pounding in quiet, chaotic sync.

Spent.
Shaken.
Silent.

It was the kind of silence that didn’t demand to be filled. The kind that cradled you in its warmth and said: you’re safe now.

And I was.

Wrapped in his arms, curled into the place where his heartbeat lived.

My legs were still trembling faintly from everything he’d done to me, and I didn’t even care. I could’ve sunk into that mattress forever and never moved again. My eyes fluttered shut, heavy with something deeper than sleep. Something like peace.

Then I heard him speak.

“Ashley?” His voice was so soft it barely carried.

I mumbled something that sounded like “yes,” though I couldn’t be sure if it reached my mouth or stayed locked behind my lips.

He shifted beside me, and then I felt his fingers—gentle and warm—brushing my hair away from my neck. He cradled the back of my head, guiding it down onto the pillow like I was something delicate.

“You need to sleep more,” he murmured.

I nodded, or maybe I dreamed that I nodded. I didn’t know anymore. I just knew I never wanted to move from this spot.

He pulled the blanket up around my arms. Tucked me in with hands that had once built empires and broken things—but now only held me.

Then, slowly, I felt his lips against my shoulder. A soft, reverent kiss.
Then another, just beneath it.
And another.
Five kisses down my spine, each one quieter, more tender than the last. By the fifth, my eyes were closed and tears were threatening to push through them—for reasons I couldn’t name.

Then his voice—barely more than breath.

“I’ll be here every night,” he whispered. “To keep you warm. I’ll kiss you until I can’t keep my eyes open.”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. I wasn’t sure if I was still awake or if this was just some dream I never wanted to wake from.

But he kept talking.

And every word stitched something in me back together.

“I used to think control was everything,” he said, his voice still low, close, as if afraid the dark might swallow it. “That if I just managed everything perfectly… if I anticipated every move, every risk, every failure… nothing could fall apart.”

He paused.

I felt his breath brush my neck.

“But things still fell apart, Ash. Everything did. My company. My family. Us. And the more I tried to control it, the faster it slipped through my hands.”

His hand slid gently across my waist, splaying wide like he was holding something precious.

“I didn’t know how to sit in chaos. I didn’t know how to feel things without boxing them up. But then you…” He trailed off, laughing under his breath like he couldn’t believe it himself. “You just walked in—with your heart on fire and your stubbornness and your damn freckles—and you turned everything upside down.”

Another kiss, this time behind my ear. Slower. Lingering.

“I fought it. I fought you. God, I tried to make you fit into the neat little story I’d written for myself. But you wouldn’t let me. You wouldn’t be tamed. You made me feel things I didn’t have a name for.”

His voice dropped even lower.

“You made me soft. And strong. And honest.”

A long silence passed, and I wasn’t sure if he thought I was asleep yet—but he kept going anyway. Maybe because he needed to. Maybe because he wanted me to hear it, even if I only heard it in dreams.

“You’re the only thing in this world I don’t want to control,” he said. “You’re the only thing I just want to love.”

My chest squeezed.

I felt him nuzzle into the curve of my neck, his arms wrapping tighter around my body like he was trying to shield me from everything.

“I don’t deserve you. I know that. I don’t know if I ever will. But I swear to you, I’ll spend the rest of my life trying.”

A pause.

“I’ll hold you through every storm, Ashley. I’ll be your shelter even if the world crumbles around us again.”

Another kiss.

And then a whisper, softer than anything else he’d said all night.

“You are my peace. My home. My heart.”

And finally—finally—I let go.
But just before the darkness took me fully, I thought I heard him whisper something else—something quiet, almost like a thought he didn’t mean to say out loud.

“When this is over,” he breathed, lips barely brushing my temple, “I want to marry you again.”