18. Oliver

Chapter 18

Oliver

His Isobel

H e thought perhaps the first time they had woken her up, it had been a one-off. Maybe she would wear off of the novelty, but no .

She was enjoying this. Enjoying him taking what he wanted from her as she slept soundly.

Did she know what this did to him?

To be allowed free reign of her body while she slept? To be permitted to touch her how he wished?

Intoxicating.

But that’s what Isobel was. She was meant for him. Every single piece of her. Awake. Asleep.

He knew that he would join her little harem of men, but he had needed time to accept it.

To realize it was Emilio who had taken her innocence.

Married her.

When it could have been him. He had come so close years before.

But he had discerned to give her a choice. Had promised himself to let his butterfly keep her wings. But what if she was offering them to him? What if she ripped them off and thrust them into his hands?

His fingers pressed into her wet cunt, reveling in how even half-asleep her body was ready for him. Willing him to slide into her.

She was partially awake now. Before, in the silence, it had just been him with his thoughts and an unsettling urge.

He had wanted to be quiet , careful. He had wanted to skirt the lines of what she had consented to entirely. Wanted to take from her more than she was willing to give. Wanted to fuck her without her waking up until his seed was inside of her.

For her to come to with the dull ache between her legs and unassuming soreness.

For him to leak down her legs as she began to realize what he had done.

But then she roused against his fingers, and the voice in his head shouting at him to break her softened.

Her moans overpowered it.

He hadn’t even stuffed his dick inside her and he was already coming undone.

The thought served to both anger and empower him.

This was her fault.

He moved his fingers further inside of her, hooking into a spot he knew she enjoyed.

A soft mewl left vibrated out of her, and she stirred against him, furrowing back into him even further. He had discarded her clothes before this even started and the soft skin of her back was a stark contrast to his chest as she rubbed against him.

That fucking Mumu .

She had nearly pavloved him, now every time he even saw a fucking sleep dress he couldn’t help but to picture her in it. His dick immediately stood at attention.

“Maddox,” she murmured in her sleep.

Did she say his name to goad him? Surely she knew who he was. She should recognize him by his fingers alone .

He shifted his hold on her.

He had lost his very finite patience. He maneuvered, flipping her onto her knees in the bed, not concerned if she woke up or not.

“Wha–” She wasn’t able to get the full word out.

He plunged his cock into her primed cunt. He had readied it for himself . Not for her. She didn’t need to enjoy this.

But even as he thought the words, one of his hands found her clit, and the one soaked from her?

He carefully pressed against her rim of muscle. He had taken her virgin ass for his and he needed to remind her. That she was his. That everything about her was his .

Even if he was forced to make space for two other men.

“Oliver.” His name was smothered by the pillow her face was pressed into, but he heard it.

“That’s better.” Maybe he would make her come after all. He sped up his pace, beating into her with reckless abandon. “You”–he pinched her clit–“will call me by my fucking name when I fuck you. Do you understand?” He wasn’t sure when the monster had escaped his cage.

But here in this bedroom. With the moon cutting through the window as the only source of light. His beautiful Isobel filled with his cock, his fingers playing with her, she wasn’t being fucked by the man she called a friend. She was being imprinted by the shadows that coated his soul, and only once his darkness had chewed her and swallowed her down would she be his.

Her moans had turned to screams, and he listened for her safe word. Because even a monster knew not to break her trust, knew to adhere to her wishes.

If only just .

“Oliver! I knew it was—” The words cut off by an incomprehensible noise leaving her lips.

It was hedonistic . It was his signal that she was almost there. He considered removing himself entirely, to punish her, but he didn’t have the self-control for that.

Instead, he slowed his pace changing to deep thrusts. It took five before she convulsed around his cock.

His own pleasure was just within his reach, static licked against his spine all the way to his fucking balls. And the pressure that had built against the dam? Her vice grip around him? Her broken voice as she cried out his name? It was his undoing and a moment later; he was filling her.

She tried to squirm off of him, but he held onto her, leaning over her back. “Oh sweet Isobel, I tried to let you free. Tried to keep you out of my web, but you’re stuck in it now. Are you scared?” His clean hand caressed her cheek from behind before moving to her neck. He gripped her there, pulling her up to him by it.

“No.” The word washed a sense of relief across his skin.

Anxiety that he hadn’t been aware existed dispersed into the room. Her one word unfurled years of doubts, of questioning whether she was ready for him—the true him—or not. “Good, now let’s get you cleaned up.”