21. Oakley

Chapter 21

Oakley

I can do this; I tell myself as I stand outside of the study for lack of a better term. It's fine. I only completely shut down, ignored him, and walked away a few hours ago. He hasn't come up to his room and has left me completely alone staring at these four walls and picking at this navy-blue blanket. I need to just do it.

That stupid phone call from my brother that wasn't even supposed to happen threw me back into the reality of this situation.

The scent of dark wood and leather fills my nostrils as I step into the dimly lit room, my heart pounding in my chest like a wild animal trapped in a cage. I can barely contain the anxiety that threatens to consume me, and I clear my throat, trying to steady myself as I face Jeremiah.

"Jeremiah," I begin, my voice wavering slightly. God, why do I have to sound so weak right now? "We need to talk."

He looks up at me, his green eyes piercing right through me, and I take a deep breath, gathering the strength I'll need to express my decision .

"About what?" His tone is measured, almost detached. It infuriates me how he can be so calm when I'm a tornado of confusion inside.

"I can't do this anymore," I say, forcing the words out. "Us. The lessons, I mean." I wave my hand between us, frustration bubbling up. My eyes meet his, searching for any sign of understanding, any hint that he's not about to hate me for what I'm saying. All I find is amusement like he knows I'd never be able to walk away from him.

"Bunny," he replies, his voice tinged with a note of sarcasm. "What exactly do you want to stop?"

I bite my lip, resisting the urge to snap back at him. This isn't a joke, and I need him to understand that. "It's just…it's too hard to compartmentalize my feelings. It's fake. You're doing it to help me. I guess because you feel bad for—" I look away. "Never mind. But it doesn't feel fake when we're together, so I just think?—"

"Fake?" He raises an eyebrow, his tone incredulous, as if the very suggestion is an insult. "You think what we have between us is fake? When have I given you that impression and do you think I just call you mine for the fun of it? You fucking know better than that, Oakley." His words create an echo chamber in my head as I watch him stand up from the chair he's sitting in and take a step toward me.

"Yes. They're lessons…not—" I admit, feeling my cheeks heat up with embarrassment. "It feels real for me, and I don't want to end up feeling like I did when you left and?—"

I take a deep breath and pace a few steps.

"I'm not explaining myself clearly," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "I appreciate you helping me get over my fear of being touched or being close to someone, but when you touch me, I want it to be because you want to touch me. Not because you feel bad that someone hurt me. It's all just too much for me."

"Too much?" His voice drops, low and dangerous. Before I can react, he's across the room, touching my arm and spinning me around to face him. His breath is hot against my cheek, and I feel his fingers burning an imprint into my skin even though they aren't even gripping me.

"Baby, touching you is the only thing I think about all damn day," he says, reaching out to touch my cheek, his fingertips grazing my skin with a tenderness that sends shivers down my spine, "You don't ever need to worry about that. I struggle to stop touching you. What you do need to worry about is walking away from me like earlier. I won't have that, you need a fucking moment then you say so. You don't get to just shut me the hell out."

A shiver runs down my spine as I watch Jeremiah's face, searching for any hint of emotion in his strong features. He remains silent, stoic, but I can't help but feel like I'm caught in a trap. Jeremiah's eyes flicker toward me, and for a moment, I think I see a flash of vulnerability before he quickly looks away. My heart clenches in my chest, a weird feeling of sorrow taking hold. I take a deep breath, steeling myself for the next part of my confession. I just need him to let me go.

"You've helped me so much in overcoming my trauma," I tell him softly, reaching out to gently place a hand on his arm. The warmth of his skin against mine calls to me, wants me to give in and feel his arms wrapped around me. "And I'm not afraid anymore."

He finally meets my gaze, his eyes filled with a raw intensity that makes it hard to breathe. I can see the struggle behind them, the weight of his own emotions threatening to shatter his own walls. My heart lurches in my chest, and for a moment, I fear that I might have pushed him too far.

Suddenly, he rushes toward me with a fierceness I've never seen before. His eyes burn into mine, a fiery determination blazing through them. "You don't understand," he growls, his voice low and filled with pent-up frustration.

"Jeremiah," I stammer, struggling to find the right words. My breath hitches in my throat as I take in the raw desperation etched across his face. It's disconcerting to see him like this, stripped of his usual composure. But it also ignites something deep within me. Isn't this what I always wanted? Am I not just trading once fear for another?

"Please," I whisper, my voice shaking slightly, "you have to understand that I didn't mean to imply that you were a liar." I pause, searching his face for any sign of understanding. "I just…it's been so hard for me to separate our lessons from what's happening between us."

"Look," he says, running a hand over his head back and forth, clearly agitated. "If you don't think this is real for me, you don't know me at all. Every single thing I've said and done for and to you is real," he says more softly, his voice losing its edge as he takes a step closer. "If you think I don't care about you or that this is just some game for me, you're wrong. This was never meant to be fake. I just said that fucking tit-for-tat shit, so you'd agree, and I didn't have to lock you up like a caveman. It was always gonna be real—for both of us."

I want to say something, but his expression softens ever so slightly as he studies my face. The air around us is thick with tension, as though we're both holding our breath, waiting for the other to make a move. He grabs my face in his hands, forcing me to look at him. "I've never felt anything like this before," he says, his words laced with passion and possessiveness. "You're mine. Every part of you belongs to me."

A desperate urge to resist him wars with the undeniable pull I feel. I know I should be frightened by everything that comes with Jeremiah Blackwood.

"I'm trying to protect myself." He just shakes his head at me before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

"Bunny," he whispers hoarsely, his voice thick with need. "That's not your job anymore, it's mine. If we're being honest, it always has been, and we just went on our own little side quests for a moment. You're mine, and I need to show you that. I need you to hear it, to see it, to feel it and know it."

His lips crash into mine with a force that steals my breath, something he does so frequently I should be dead. His kiss is rough, demanding, leaving no room for doubt. My body responds instantly, traitorously. I melt against him, our tongues clashing in a frenzied dance of need.

"You're impossible," I manage to gasp out when we break apart for air. His eyes bore into mine, dark and wild.

"And I'm done fucking talking about this with you," he growls, his hands gripping my waist possessively as he lifts me up. I can tell he's about to throw me over his shoulder like a freaking caveman again, so I lock my legs around his waist instead.

I can feel his grin stretched wide across his face on the skin of my neck as he cups my ass and walks us out of the study, taking the long hallway before we climb the staircase and reach his room. I can feel him peppering kisses on my pulse point and it makes me squirm, my center rubbing across his hard cock each time I do .

I jolt when he shifts me so he can lift one leg and kick the bedroom door closed behind us.

"Rem, I want you. I want to feel you. All of you. I'm ready, so show me what it means to be yours," I breathe out. If he denies me right now, I might spontaneously combust.

"Yea baby, and just how bad do you want me? Bad enough to realize this is it? I'm telling you right now, Oakley, we do this, and you'll never get another moment of peace. I will invade every bit of you, and you won't even have one damn sliver of a chance to walk away. So, think very carefully before you decide." He sets me down on the edge of his bed and I lean back on my arms, gazing up at him as I travel up his body and to his face. The damn pretty boy smirk firmly there and his eyes feel like they are burning my clothes away.

I tug my dress over my head, tossing it aside like it's nothing. My fingers make quick work of my bra, and then I lay back down and shimmy out of my panties and toss them past him. He snatches them out of the air before bringing them up to his nose and inhaling deeply. I should be embarrassed, but even though I'm exposed, vulnerable, the hunger in his eyes tells me that he loves it.

"Isn't this enough of my answer? I'm here, bare before you without hesitation," I tell him, and he just scoffs.

"I want your words, Oakley Ashford. Drip each syllable from your lips like your cunt is going to drip honey down my cock," he mutters, lowering his mouth to my chest as his arms bracket either side of my body. His lips close around a nipple, and I arch into him, a moan escaping my lips. He sucks harder, his teeth grazing sensitive skin, sending my core into spasms.

"God, Jeremiah," I breathe, my hands grabbing and pulling him closer. He grunts in response, his mouth moving to my other breast, lavishing it with the same intense attention. Every touch, every lick and bite, is all-consuming.

"Do you feel this?" he murmurs against my skin, his voice thick with need. "This is real, Oakley. This is us."

"Yes," I pant, caught in the whirlwind of sensation he's creating. His hands roam over my body, exploring, claiming. He trails kisses down my stomach, each one leaving an imprint on my flesh.

"Fuck," I gasp as his tongue finds its target, teasing, tasting. My hips buck involuntarily, seeking more. He chuckles darkly, his grip tightening on my thighs, holding me in place as he devours me.

"Look at you," he says, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "So responsive. So perfect." His words only heighten the pleasure, pushing me closer to the edge.

"Please," I beg, needing release, needing him. His mouth never stops its relentless assault, driving me higher, faster. My world narrows to just this moment, just him.

"Come for me, bunny. I gotta get you nice and wet for me," he commands, his voice rough and authoritative. And I do, shattering under his ministrations, crying out his name as waves of ecstasy crash over me and spill onto him.

"That's it, soak me, baby," he murmurs, his tone almost tender now. "Good girl." His words wrap around me as I try to catch my breath.

He moves up my body, settling himself between my legs and I can feel him, hard, thick and throbbing. When the hell did he take his clothes off and how didn't I notice? He must see the confusion written all over my face because he's laughing at me as he bends down to whisper in my ear, "You went to the moon for a minute there, baby. Plenty of time for me to get naked and between your legs before you came back to me here on earth."

Gosh, how freaking embarrassing. I feel the blush spreading across my face immediately. He just stares at me, pushing the hair out of my face. What is he waiting for? A freaking invitation.

Shit, of course he is. He said he wanted my words.

"Rem, please. I'm ready. No fear, no flinching. I want to feel it and I want it to be you. Didn't you say it was always me and it was always going to be me? Well, Jeremiah Blackwood, it's you, and it's always been you, and it's always going to be you. So are you going to claim me or am I getting up and walking out of here? Because there's no way we could go back, only forward." He gives me no words, no affirmation that he hears me, but he grips my chin and presses our noses together and I know he hears me.

He hears me and he sees me and he freaking believes me. I don't need his words. He leans back on his knees, and I see his cock and my mouth speaks before my brain can even stop it.

"There is no way that's going to fit. Are there steroids for dicks because there is no way something that size is supposed to fit into someone's actual body?" Jesus.

"Christ, you're good and bad for my ego, bunny. It'll fit. Why do you think I had you come already? You get so fucking wet, it'll help me slide in."

"That feels like something you're just saying to me to try to ease my very real concern of you impaling me." I'm not wrong.

"You give me too much credit baby. It's average but never speak of it to Penn because I'll never hear the end of it. Now it's gonna hurt and I'm sorry about that," he murmurs against my ear, one hand pinning my wrists above my head while the other guides himself to my entrance. "I can go slow or…"

"I'd rather you not torture me with it."

Without warning, he thrusts into me, filling me completely. The sudden intrusion steals my breath away, pain shooting through me as he stretches me wide.

"Fuck, Oakley," he groans, his voice gravelly. "So tight. So perfect." He's not moving, not even a twitch, and how does he have this much control?

I squirm, trying to move, trying to get him to move, but he just shakes his head at me.

"Let your body adjust, bunny. I don't need to be a fucking neanderthal right now." So, I take a deep breath and we lay there for what feels like forever before my body slowly relaxes. I'm still stretched wide; I still find the sting of pain from having him in me, but something else is happening.

I want more; I want to ease the ache building up in me and I want to come. It has to be written on my face and in my body language because he reads me so easily.

He pulls back slightly before driving in again, harder this time. Each movement is deliberate, controlled, asserting his dominance over me.

"Fu—" I try to form words, but they dissolve into moans. My body responds instinctively, hips arching up to meet his every thrust.

"Such a good girl taking it," he demands, his tone brooking no argument. "Take what I'm giving you."

"Yes," I manage to choke out, my voice trembling with need. His eyes darken, a possessive gleam shining through.

"That's my girl," he praises, his pace quickening. "Feel that? Every inch of me inside you, claiming you."

"Please," I beg, though I can't tell if I'm pleading for mercy or more. The line blurs, leaving me helpless under his command.

"Fucking cunt is wrapped so goddamn tight around me," he groans, his grip on my wrists tightening. His movements become more urgent, each stroke driving deeper, pushing me closer to the edge, but I need more.

My world is reduced to our bodies moving together, and the last barrier I was trying to hold on to is obliterated by him.

"Say it," he orders, his voice a raw whisper. "Tell me you're mine."

"Yours," I breathe, surrendering completely. "I'm yours, Jeremiah."

"Good girl," he mutters, his lips crashing down on mine in a bruising kiss.

He releases my wrists and trails his fingers down my arms, making me shiver. His hands find their way to my hips, gripping them tightly as he grinds against me, eliciting a gasp from my lips as the friction on my clit increases.

"Pretty boy," I moan, my back arching off the bed as pleasure courses through my veins, my heart pounding wildly in my chest.

"Say it again," he orders, his voice thick with need, and I comply without hesitation.

"My pretty boy." It's like I said the magic words he was longing to hear because he finally touches me there, fingers pinching and circling and I can feel my orgasm building. He isn't even fucking me, just holding his cock in me as I clench and tremble all around him.

"Come for me. I wanna feel what it's like when your little body squirts all over me. You gonna mark me, bunny? Would you like that, huh?" Yes, yes, I would like that. Half- embarrassed at the thought, but the other half is winning when I feel it building. It's like my embarrassment is a dam holding me back and he knows it. He pulls out quickly, making me gasp and before I can grumble, he's sharply thrusting in me again, angling upwards as he pinches my clit and I tumble over.

Wave after wave I ride as I feel my orgasm leak out of me and he starts fucking me through it. Each slap of his body against mine is sharp, but it feels like I'm underwater.

"Fuck, that's so goddamn hot. Listen to how wet my pussy is. My pretty little waterfall pussy. Every day I'm gonna want you to come all over me just like this, baby. Fuck, I can't wait to drink you down again." I want him to stop. His filthy words have my nipples hard and I can feel it building again. I can't do it again. It's too much.

He looks up at me, his green eyes darkened with lust and desire, a wicked smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Speechless, baby?" he murmurs, his voice low and commanding. "I want to hear you scream my name."

"I can't—I need a break," I finally tell him, and he must sense I really do need it because he stops teasing me. He doesn't pull out though, he just strokes my hair and my face. I can hear him whispering, but I honestly have no idea what he's saying. I'm just trying to come back into my body and catch my actual breath. Everything is so much more than I expected it to be.

My head is finally clearer when I realize something.

"Wait," I gasp, pushing against his chest with as much strength as I can muster. My heart hammers wildly in my chest, my voice trembling with urgency. "We forgot to use a condom."

God, how could we have been so stupid? Isn't that what they drill into us from all angles? How many times has he not used one before? My imagination runs wild.

"Hey! Stop it, right now. I've never not worn one before and none of them matter, anyway. You've known I wasn't a saint for a very long time, bunny. And I know you're on birth control, I'm gonna fuck you bare. Over and over and spill my cum into you every chance I can get. One day, you'll have my little dirty blonde-haired babies, and I can't fucking wait. But for right now, I'm gonna practice knocking you up every chance I get."

I don't even know what to say. All I can picture is him holding a baby now and Penn fighting with the others over who's the favorite uncle. I want that, not now, not anytime soon, but yea one day. I can't help the thrill that runs through me that I'm the only one who's felt him like this.

"Stop snooping through my things!" I tell him when I realize he's obviously gone through my makeup bag and seen my pills. All he does is roll his eyes because of course, everything that is mine is his or however they run their lives in this family.

"That will be a no. Now, do we need to talk about this more or can we fuck so I can nut in you and watch it run out? You let me know if you want to come again." He shallows starts thrusting in and out of me in a teasing manner.

"Next time, we talk first because being with you makes me lose all my brain cells I swear. But yes, I very much would like to come again, pretty boy. Please." My plea at the end is barely a whisper as heat builds and pools between my legs.

"Let me show you how much I need you," he murmurs before capturing my lips with his own.

Jeremiah's grip tightens on my hips, his breath hot against my ear. My mind races, my legs wrapping around his waist like a lifeline.

"That's it," he growls, thrusting deeper.

I moan, my fingers digging into his back. "Please," I beg, not even sure what I'm asking for.

"Come for me," he orders, his hand slipping between us to find that perfect spot. "I want to feel your cum on me one more time before I let go." He reaches between us, rubbing my clit and continues pounding inside me, taking everything he can. Heat and pressure build inside me, making it harder to breathe, and I can feel my legs shaking. "Fuck." Jeremiah groans as my pussy tightens around him as my orgasm rips through me.

"Christ, bunny…you're so fucking perfect," he groans into my ear, his breath sending shivers down my spine. "I can't get enough of you."

"Neither can I," I admit, my voice barely more than a gasp as he moves inside me. His thrusts are slow and deliberate, but soon they become more forceful, almost animalistic. And with each stroke, I feel myself slipping further and further under his spell, watching as he chases his own release using my body.

"Rem," I moan, my fingers digging into his back as he continues to drive into me. "You can go harder. I can take it. I was made for you, right?"

"Fuck. I don't think I can hold back much longer," Jeremiah gasps, his eyes locked onto mine, searching. His grip tightens around my legs as he pulls them up to his shoulders before stroking hard and fast in between my thighs.

"Goddam I…I—" a guttural roar escapes his lips as he spills inside me, refusing to pull out .

"Mine," he mutters, collapsing onto me. His weight pins me down, our bodies still joined.

"Yours," I echo weakly, my heart pounding in my chest. The room is filled with the scent of sweat and sex. Gosh, I am definitely going to need to clean this room myself because I cannot have the cleaners smelling all this.

He rolls off me, but not far as he takes me with him. Just enough so I can breathe again. His hand remains on my hip, possessive, insistent. He's still in me and how is he still semi hard? I thought it would, you know, shrink and slip out.

"You're a possessive bastard, you know that?" I tease, but there's no heat behind my words.

"Mhm. Now go to sleep and keep my dick in you. He's quite fucking happy to live there now, covered in both of us."

"There's something wrong with you." I tell him but his eyes are already closed, and his breath is evening out, so I give up trying to argue with him and just lay down against his chest as I feel my own eyelids begin to flutter.

No one tells you how utterly exhausting sex is. They should have led with that.