Page 70 of Ruthless Rebel

“Stop flirting with me, Blackwell,” he muses, dropping down and helping me out of my jeans.

“When you're on your knees for me again? Never,” I purr back, watching him closely, which means I don’t miss the lightness that flashes across his eyes. It’s a rare sight, but it’s there.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, changing the subject, as I try to move away, but he holds me in place, grabbing a pair of the pajama bottoms, and then motioning for me to sit down.

“I’m okay,” I lie, doing as he suggests, gritting my teeth in the process, trying to hide my pain the way I did downstairs, and he just glares at me, eyes dropping down to the bandages on my side.

“You never lie to me, Lincoln, so don’t start now,” he warns, reaching for the pajama shirt and helping me into that too.

“Okay, my side is burning like fuck and I’m exhausted, are you happy now?” I ask with a pointed brow, and he glares even harder.

“Nothing about you being injured makes me happy,” he admits quietly, his voice taking on a dark edge, as he reaches for his own pajamas, but I grab his hand in mine and squeeze it lightly.

“Always knew you liked me, Dark Prince.”

I let him help me back to my feet, and then I reach for his shirt and unbutton it slowly, my fingers just barely dragging along his skin, yet still I feel him stiffen. My eyes can’t help but snag on the scar on his upper chest, the one that almost cost me him, and I know he senses where my thoughts have gone, but he stays silent, letting my eyes explore the expanse of his chest. The dark angel sitting in the center with its spread wings just adds to his appeal, and I find myself smiling and shaking my head.

“Something funny, Blackwell?” He asks, gasping a little on my name as I slide the shirt off his shoulders.

“Just thinking about how hard it is to kill you,” I muse, tugging at his belt, and he smirks.

“Should I be worried?” He asks, a trace of humor in his tone, as he shoves down his pants until he is only in his boxers.

“No, because everyone who tries ends up dead, and now you’ve taken to cutting out hearts, I think it’s them who should be worried,” I grunt, dropping myself slowly back onto my bed and enjoying the view of an almost naked Asher Donovan.

“I’ve not taken to cutting out hearts,” he scoffs, reaching for his pajama bottoms and sliding them up his legs. “Billy was an exception, for touching what’s mine,” he adds mindlessly, reaching for the top, but I reach out and stop him in his tracks.

“What’s yours, eh? Is that how you see it, that I belong to you?” I ask, pulling him toward me so much that he has no choice but to kneel on the bed and lean down on his free hand.

“Don’t you?” He tosses back in question, his mouth ghosting over mine with a devil of a smirk. “Because I don’t get on my knees for just anyone, Blackwell, in fact, you’re the first,” he grits out, as my hand dances along the muscles of his stomach, ghosting up towards his neck, knowing the privilege I have at being able to touch him like this.

“Yes, I belong to you, I have for two fucking years,” I grunt, stealing a kiss from his waiting mouth. “But you belong to me too, don’t you, Dark Prince?” I don’t know why I am pushing him, goading him even. I know he probably isn’t ready for the admission I am searching for, yet he grants it anyway.

“Was the heart and candy not enough? I hear that’s what it takes to woo someone,” he purrs, nipping at my jaw, yet I can’t help but smile at the thought of Asher Donovan trying to woo me.

“I mean, I think you mixed up the kind of hearts they meant, but I think the blow job that came after really sealed the deal for me,” I muse, enjoying the feeling of his smirk against my jaw. “Although maybe we should try another, just to be sure?” I add, trying to convince him to go for round two and stop treating me like I am made of glass.

He laughs, positioning himself so he can lay down beside me, before he sighs, “As tempting as that sounds, how about I get you some painkillers so you can rest for an hour before everyone starts arriving?” He asks, and I roll my eyes.

“I think you’re forgetting, I’ve been here before,” I grit, rolling onto my uninjured side and pushing him onto his back. “Me and pain are old, fickle friends, always finding a way back to each other,” I draw out, dragging my mouth along his jaw until I reach hisear. “Do you think I’m too fragile and broken to bring you pleasure, baby?” I ask, palming his cock through his pants, and rejoicing in his sharp intake of breath. “That I can’t make you lose your goddamn mind with just my hand?” My fingers dance along the edge of his pants, before slowly slipping inside and grazing the head of his cock. “I fucking own you, Asher, your pleasure is mine,” I whisper, gripping him firmly and giving him one smooth stroke.

“Lincoln,” he warns, in a raspy tone that makes me almost lose my mind, like it has done for the last two fucking years.

“That’s it, baby, say my name, remind yourself who you belong to,” I purr, slowly jacking his cock, noting every hitch of his breath. “I’ve kissed your blood-stained lips, you’ve choked on my fucking cock,” I curse into his ear, moving my fist faster and faster and stroking him in circular motions. “And one day soon, you’re going to let me fuck that tight ass of yours until it’s overflowing with my cum,” I add, making him groan long and loud, his breaths now nothing but short pants.

“Fuck me,” he curses, tipping his head down, and reaching to lift his shirt up his stomach, so he can watch me stroke his cock and get him off.

“Oh I will, Dark Prince, I’ll fuck you so good and hard, that you will never fucking forget that you’re mine again,” I promise, addicted to how he is captivated by the way I am working his cock. “You’re such a good boy for me, your cock so fucking perfect, but I need to see it dripping in your cum for me,” I demand, jacking him even faster and ignoring the hot, searing pain in my side at my actions. “Can you do that for me, baby? Can you cover my fist in your cum?”

Hot, needy groans drip from his lips with an endless spiral of responses. “Yes, fuck, yes, don’t stop, please.”

God he begs so sweet. And stop? Is he fucking insane? I’ve waited two years to feel the weight of him in my hands, to hear his desperate moans, I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to. I might have told him I own him, but he owns me right back, more than he even realizes.

“Lincoln,” he chokes out, the sound of my name undoing me, but it’s the beautiful, white ropes of cum that shoot out of his cock that have my mouth watering. It covers my fist and his stomach in the most delicious display, all the while my hand still works him, until every last drop of cum is a sticky mess between us.

His eyes flash to mine, and then to my lips, as if he wants to kiss me, but I am already leaning up and over, lapping my tongue against his six pack and cleaning every ridge of his abs with it. I take my time, worshiping his body and cleaning him at the same time, switching between his stomach and cock, before focusing on my fist. Only then do I lean back down and kiss him, sharing his salty release across our tongues.

When I drop back down, it’s with a groan, filled with both pleasure and pain, as the taste of him settles something deep inside of me. He reaches for me, opening his mouth to say something, when there is a gentle knock on the door.

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