Chapter 20 His Room (R-18)

Chapter 20 His Room (R-18)
R-18

Our eyes held a conversation of their own as we stripped away each other’s defenses. No words were needed; the only sound in the room was the heavy, rhythmic pull of our breath. He didn’t stop at my waist. His hand traveled lower, his palm searing through the thin silk of my dress. When his fingers finally grazed the sensitive heat between my thighs, a sharp gasp escaped me, and my back arched instinctively against the mattress.
“Ahhh, Ian,” I whimpered, biting my lip to keep from crying out.
His lips traveled down to my chest, where the peaks of my breasts were fully erect and aching for his touch. He claimed them with a desperate hunger, alternating between them like a man starving for air. He caressed, played, and worshipped me exactly as he pleased, his own control fraying at the edges.
“Shit,” he growled, the word vibrating against my skin.
“I’ve been wanting this,” he whispered, his voice thick with a decade of repressed longing. “I could die right here.”
He continued to trail fire across my body with his lips. I didn’t know where to turn or how to catch my breath. He moved lower, his face descending from my chest until he was positioned between my thighs.
“So beautiful,” he breathed, his gaze fixed on the intimacy he was finally allowed to claim.

“Ian, stop,” I pleaded, but my own voice was betraying me, coming out as a broken gasp. “Ahhh.”
I arched as he buried his face between my thighs. I could feel the expert, searing heat of his tongue claiming me, sending jolts of electricity straight to my core. I jerked when I felt his fingers join the fray, skillfully caressing the most sensitive part of me.
“Don’t… not t-there,” I stammered, but he acted as if he were deaf to my protests. He only became more deliberate, more focused on breaking my resolve. “Ahhhh, Ian, please… stop.”
“You’re so fucking sweet, Pearl. I could stay here all day,” he growled. He sat up, stripping away the last of his clothes in one fluid motion.
My eyes widened as I saw the sheer, daunting length of him.
“What?” He let out a low, rough breath. “It’s like you’ve never seen one before.”
I couldn’t answer. The truth was paralyzing—I had never seen a man like this in my entire life. He seemed to read the shock written all over my face, and his expression shifted from lust to pure, unadulterated disbelief.
“Are you fucking kidding me? This is… this is your first time?”
I nodded slowly, my gaze still locked on him, unable to look away.
“And you fucking entered this kind of hell?” Julian’s voice was a mixture of rage and agony. “Do you have any idea what they would do to you here? How they would defile you, how they would break you into pieces?”
“Then ruin me first, Julian,” I countered, my voice cracking with a volatile mix of desperation, anger, and fear. I looked up at him, tears finally spilling over and hot against my cheeks. “Ruin me first, so that after tonight, there’s nothing left for anyone else to destroy. You can have me—all of me—until there’s nothing left.”
I let out a ragged sob, my heart baring itself for the first time in three years. “There’s nothing left of me anyway… except for this.”

He tried to pull away, to put distance between us, but I reached out and hauled him back.
“Ruin me, Ian. You’re the last person I ever expected to destroy me, but at least I know who you are.”
He hesitated, his jaw tight with conflict, but I didn’t give him the chance to refuse. I sat up, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him into a hard, desperate kiss. At first, he was a statue—unmoving, resistant. I forced my tongue into his mouth and wrapped my hand around his thick, pulsating shaft. Slowly, I felt the resistance crumble as he began to answer my kiss with a sudden, violent hunger.
I sank back onto the mattress, my arms locked around his neck like a lifeline. The fire was back in his eyes, darker than before.
“I’m not going to ruin you, Pea,” he whispered, his voice ragged. “I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure no one else ever destroys you.”
“You wish,” I hissed back, the cynicism cutting through the heat.
“Ahh!” A sharp cry escaped me as he suddenly pushed a finger inside me. It was a sting—a deep, jarring ache that made me wince and bite my lip hard. “What—what are you doing?”
“I’m trying to prepare you, Pearl. This is going to hurt—a lot. And once I start, I won’t stop.”
I didn’t answer. I simply closed my eyes and let him mark my body. I let him in. I told myself it didn’t matter—this was the same fate that awaited me with every other man Viveca would eventually sell me to.
I gave him a slow, resigned nod, watching him through the haze of the moonlight. He gripped my legs, hooking them over his broad shoulders. Because of his height and the width of his frame, my hips were lifted off the bed, leaving me completely exposed and vulnerable beneath him.

“I’m going to take you, okay?” He showered me with wet, lingering kisses, his lips working to ease the tension in my muscles. It wasn’t the frantic hunger of earlier; he was moving with a terrifying carefulness, as if I were a fragile object that might shatter in his hands.
Then, I felt him began to enter.
“Ahhh—Ian,” I gasped. It was an excruciating sensation, a white-hot pain that felt like I was being torn apart from the inside out. “It hurts,” I managed to choke out.
“I told you it would,” he whispered against my ear. He lowered his body over mine, his weight grounding me as he began to move with a slow, agonizing deliberation. I could only cling to him, digging my fingernails into the muscles of his back, not caring if I drew blood.
He hadn’t even fully claimed me yet, and already I felt consumed. I bit my lip until I tasted the metallic tang of copper, fighting the desperate urge to scream. But then, the sharp edge of the pain began to dull. It shifted, melting into an overwhelming, ecstatic rush of pleasure that flooded my senses. It was the pure, intoxicating surrender of being taken.
Sensing the shift in my body, Julian increased his pace—deep, full, and relentless. He hooked my legs back over his shoulders and gripped my waist with a bruising pressure, his fingers anchoring us both as if he were drawing his very strength from my soul.
“Fucking shit,” he growled, his voice thick and raw. “This is a fucking dream come true.” He punctuated the words with every deep, heavy thrust. “Fuck, fuck.”
“Ahhhh, Ian! No, no… I think I’m going to pee!” I cried out, terrified by the unfamiliar pressure building like a tidal wave inside me.
“It’s not pee, Pearl,” he groaned, his rhythm never faltering. “It’s a release. Just let go… cum, cum for me.”

“Fuck, fuck.” His pace turned frantic, his hands locking onto my waist with a punishing grip.
“Ian!” I cried out as the waves of my release finally crashed over me. It was pure ecstasy. He collapsed against me, his chest heaving, but his hands didn’t stop—he continued to tease and worship my breasts, heightening the aftershocks until I was trembling. How could something so violent feel this sweet?
I thought it was over. I thought we were done. But as I lay there, breathless, I felt him move again.
“Ian!” I let out a muffled gasp as he gripped my hips and flipped me over.
Now, I was on my hands and knees, exposed and trembling before him. Without a word of warning, he drove back into me from behind. “Fuck!” The sensation was different this time—deeper, more jarring, a volatile mix of sharp pain and blinding pleasure.
“I need to see you like this, Pearl,” he growled, his voice a dark, jagged edge against my ear. “I need to take you from every angle I’ve ever imagined. Don’t even think for a second that we’re finished.”
His rhythm changed. He was no longer treating me like a fragile glass sculpture; he was taking me with a raw, primal possessiveness, as if he were trying to claim every inch of my soul. His hands were everywhere—bruising my skin, caressing my curves—while he claimed me from behind with relentless, deep strokes. Every thrust of his shaft felt like it was reaching for my very core.
Fucking hell. This was a beautiful, exquisite torture.