Thirty-Four

Lander makes good on his promise, but I'm still miserable. By the time we reach the Halcyon's parking lot, tears rim my eyes and I can't stop clenching. Lander skids into a spot, and I swear, two people have never gotten to an elevator faster. We're practically running…

…and then we see the sign on the doors.

"It's broken?" I demand before slamming my palm against the useless call button.

Lander's expression is grim but undeterred. "I'll carry you if you want," he offers, moving to pick me up.

Like hell am I about to let him lug me up ten flights. I shake my head. "I can do it."

He hesitates, but he doesn't object—because he's fucking perfect.

A few minutes later, when we reach the first floor, I can already tell this isn't going to be easy. The only saving grace is the timing: It's midnight, so no one is here to see me gripping the rail and shuffling with small, measured steps.

The plug feels horrible. I'm simultaneously terrified it's going to fall right out or disappear inside me, and my brain can't grasp a rational thought. I've played with enough plugs to know neither of these outcomes is about to happen, but the adrenaline from confronting my father is really fucking with my common sense.

I can handle this, I know. But Lander made a good point tonight: I don't have to bear everything alone.

So I make a decision.

Without explaining myself, I exit the stairwell on the next landing and Lander follows closely, calling after me, obviously worried and confused. A minute later, I open the door to the Halcyon's pitch black and empty gym.

"A break," Lander reasons as he follows me in and shuts the door behind us. He pats his hands against the wall, trying to find a light switch. "Good idea. We can pause, let you relax, and then we can keep moving upstairs." He finally finds the switch and flicks on an overhead light, casting a dim glow near the door where he stands. He rotates, probably ready to take me in his arms and comfort me…

…only to find me halfway naked, stripped down to my bra and panties.

"Take the plug out," I instruct. I'm finally able to see myself in one of the wall mirrors and my face is rosy and desperate. Yeah—I need this. "There's lube in my purse. Please don't make me beg for it because I will. I'll beg if I have to, Lander."

"Valeria," he stalls, eyes feasting on me despite his trepidation, "I know tonight was a lot and fucking is a coping mechanism for you…and yep. Okay. There goes the bra. You clearly want to cope my brains out…"

"It hurts and it tingles and I don't know what to do, but I know I want you and I want to feel good. Please make me feel good, Lander."

He continues to hesitate. "Baby, assholes are shockingly delicate despite what they're built to do, and neither of us is thinking straight enough to do this right."

I seriously want to shake him. "Okay, how many assholes have you ruined, Lander?"

He hesitates again. "Fair point, but we're in the gym," he reminds me, gesturing at the exercise machines and weights surrounding us. "Let me get you upstairs—"

"Not an option." I slide my panties down, leaving myself naked.

Butt naked.

Is this a scheme to convince him to take me now? Yes.

Is it going to work? Probably.

Lander lets out a low exhale and his eyes rake over my body. "This might hurt. You might hate me when it's done," he warns, taking a step closer to me.

"I hate you right now, so take your pick: Let me fuck you like I hate you one time or get ready to endure a lifetime of hate fucks."

He considers it, even though we both know where this is going.

"God, you're talented," he grits begrudgingly while shrugging off his jacket. As soon as it's sailing to the side of the gym, he's on me like a stallion out of the gates at the Kentucky Derby. The gym's floor tiles are freezing and unforgiving, but he still collides into my quivering body.

I'm flat on my back in the center of the room, lying on a floor that's been walked over hundreds of times, but it doesn't stop us. Immediately, I wrap my bare legs around him, pressing on his back to pin his body against mine. My hands are ruthless in his hair, tugging him into the nastiest of kisses. We're all tongues and panting breaths, and I give his lip a harsh bite, just on the polite side of painful.

"Ow, fuck," he hisses, pulling his face back. The metallic taste of blood is in my mouth and my grinning face is triumphant—borderline vengeful.

He sits up, dropping his weight onto my hips and pelvis. I inhale sharply, still looking up at him with challenge in my eyes.

I'm out for blood. Apparently, I'll get it.

With one hand, he pins me to the ground by my neck, pressing against my windpipe while his other hand fumbles to touch my breasts. My nipples are erect and needy, aching for the feel of his lips. Those sweet lips. Those adoring lips have kissed my breasts hundreds of times, making them feel so wonderful—

He spits on them.

Oh fuck, he spits on them.

There's blood in his saliva, red seeping onto my skin. He does it again. His hand rubs it around my chest, smearing it over everything he can reach. I recoil like I'm disgusted—like I didn't see this shit coming a mile away the minute I buried my teeth into his skin.

My body bucks up into Lander's, fighting back. If push came to shove, I bet I could kick his ass, but this position puts me at a disadvantage. I'm too small and he's heavy—but it's never stopped me from trying.

Tonight, he's rougher than usual, refusing to give me a break. Fleetingly, I wonder if he's compensating for not beating the shit out of Sebastian like I did, but the suspicion passes as soon as it arrives. That's not Lander. He's too secure in his masculinity, and when he expels a slow exhale against my ear, shushing me, I realize he's trying to calm me down. He wants me to relax before he takes the plug out, otherwise it's going to hurt like hell—and not the kind of hurt we like.

"Don't try me," he warns, scattering kisses over my breasts, playing like he's not focused on my comfort.

I whimper and force my fighting instincts into a needy roll. My back arches, offering him more of my breasts. Finally, his mouth makes contact. He laps over my nipple, suckling, wetting the tip.

Slowly, the discomfort riddling my body is fading into small pinpricks of pleasure, tingling down the length of my limbs, but I'm still yearning for relief.

He works his way down my body, releasing my neck from his grip. I resist the urge to pop back up. Instead, I remain on my back, my hands rising to massage my unattended breasts while Lander focuses his attention on my bare pussy.

Lowering, he gives my clit a long, deliberate lick, making me arch more. The moment his lips wrap around it, my hands fly into his hair and the tension in my body peaks again.

"Take the plug out," I half-order, half-beg.

He backs his lips off my clit and quickly replaces them with his fingers, keeping up the stimulation while I give him pleading, frustrated eyes. He moves up my body, putting his face near mine. Something akin to a pout forms on my lips before he closes his mouth over them.

Right when I'm on the brink of losing myself in the kiss, he pulls himself away like it takes every bit of willpower he has. Keeping his forehead on mine, still single-mindedly determined to distract me from getting mine right fucking now, he says, "First time I ever really looked at you was right here."

Surprised, I open my eyes. "Here?"

"Here," he confirms, swiping my clit again with his fingertips. "You were standing here, wearing nothing but a tight as fuck gray sports bra and these little matching shorts."

"Probably running," I confirm before groaning into his touch. My thighs part, making more room for Lander between them, and I'm finally starting to sink down against the unforgiving, cold floor.

"Your hair was messy and your skin was glistening, baby. Fucking glistening. That bra was so damn tight. Do you have any idea how frustrated it made me?"

I let out a soft, keening moan and fall back onto the tile, lying flat.

"You had me hard in my shorts. It was really fucked up, Valeria. I had to go to work with an erection." He slides his other hand down and nudges at the plug in my asshole.

The groan that escapes my lips is involuntary. The sensation is no longer tight and intrusive, but taboo and divine.

"I wanted to lick every drop of sweat off your skin. I wanted to lay you down in the middle of this gym and fuck you in front of everyone. Show you what it feels like to be good and fucked for once."

"Oh my god, Lander," I purr, eyes shut tight as he pulls on the plug.

"Would you have let me?" he questions, giving it another tug. "Would you have let me fuck you here?"

The widest part of the plug moves over the ring of muscle at my entrance right when I nod and ask, "In front of everyone?"

"Yeah. I didn't give a shit," he confirms, continuing the slow, gradual removal. "The thought of other people seeing you and wanting you makes me so goddamn hard because I'm the only man you spread your legs for, aren't I? I'm the only man you let into this tight little pussy and asshole."

"The only one," I confirm, sighing through the plug's motions. "I'm such a slut for you."

He stops momentarily, but he doesn't protest my use of the word. He's smart enough to notice I've never said it until today, and it's not a coincidence it happened on the day I saw my father.

Dotingly, he runs his hand along my stomach. "You are. My good little slut," he murmurs.

The word makes me moan when he uses it—when he takes it back and uses it for pleasure, not as a weapon.

He kisses my lips. "Who fucks you, Valeria?"

"You do. Only you." My voice is dreamy and thick.

"You're my girl," he confirms. "I'm going to fuck every inch of you."

He finally removes the plug and replaces it with the head of his lubed cock before my hole can tighten back to its usual size. It resists at first, fighting the stretch around his girth, but he continues to massage my clit with his fingertips, keeping my body soft like he needs it.

Another push. My asshole takes the first inch of his cock.

"There it is," he groans so slowly. "Did you know it was like this? Your asshole is the tightest thing I've ever felt."

I can't form a response. Beneath him, I'm fumbling my hands over my head, desperate for anything to grab onto other than tiles. He gives me his own body, placing my hands on each of his ass cheeks in tacit encouragement: Fuck yourself with me. The notion is outlandish; he's so much bigger than me—comically so—but he lives to see me happy.

Right now, what would make me happy is him commandeering my body. I shake my head. "You," I murmur. "You do it. I trust you."

Lander doesn't ask questions. Dutifully, he pushes his cock in deeper, watching my face, making sure I can take it.

I do. I take it like a champ.

In fact, I take it so well, I begin to wiggle. My nerves are fireworks. My legs wrap around his back, and I hoist myself higher, the message clear: I want more. His body moves in kind, his thrusts ramping and his speed increasing. His hand is working my clit so fast, I know it'll ache later. He fucks into me, wanting to hear me scream. Wanting to see my back bow.

I give him both immediately. Tears from earlier spill from my eyes—residual, I can tell. I'm not in pain; I'm in ecstasy. Everything is happening so fast, a blurry cyclone of skin and groans and lube and pleasure. The fullness leaves me breathless—all of him buried deep inside of me—a milestone act of trust to let a man know every part of me for once.

My body tenses, and I know he can work a squirt out of me. Shoving his hips back, I grab his hand and press it against my pussy. He gets the picture immediately and works three fingers into me, curling them upwards. My body lights up, shivering from the intensity coursing between us. His hand keeps working, I keep writhing, both of us are groaning—and fuck, fuck me, it happens.

"Yesyesyesyesyes," I chant unendingly, mindless and vulgar, gushing on both of us. "Fuck, you feel so good."

The pleasure is rapturous and indescribable. It travels the length of my limbs to the tips of my fingers and the pads of my toes. I wanted this. I wanted this for years, and now I'm going to want it forever.

"Just like that," he grits. "God, you're perfect, Valeria."

Lander doesn't stop thrusting, and his climax hits him like mine did: unexpected and overpowering. He's finishing in me, giving me his cum while pleasure courses through me, so potent my ears are ringing.

"Fuck, baby. I wish you could see it. Your ass takes me so good." He thrusts over his words, groaning. "I hate to leave my cum anywhere but deep in your pussy…but fuck me, this is something."

He slumps over me, sweaty and spent, still fully dressed while I'm bare. We're both absolutely filthy, but neither of us cares. Euphoria has a way of swallowing everything awful and leaving glitter in its place.

I pull back and look at Lander, dragging my thumb over his cheekbone, losing myself in the blue galaxy around his pupils. I've never seen a gaze so admiring in my life.

My kiss is light, grateful, and content before I whisper the singular sentiment I could never communicate with touch alone: "I knew you wouldn't let me down."