Claimed Darker by Em Brown

Chapter 15

DARREN

Past

Ished my pants before reaching between her legs and pulling out the vibrating egg. I replace it with my cock. Her wet heat is the best sensation. Ever.

If I didn’t have to release the tension coiled in my groin—she looked so hot strapped to the St. Andrew’s cross, it was hard not to fuck her right then—I’d just lie like this, atop her, my shaft buried and pulsing inside her.

I appreciate that she trusted me enough to restrain her, apply the nipple clamps and flog her. I didn’t go gentle, either. She did great, and I can’t wait to show her what else we can do.

Her lips hang tantalizingly close beneath mine, but I want her lip fully healed before I kiss her. With my current state of arousal, I might kiss her too hard. Lowering my head, I kiss her throat instead. She sighs in pleasure.

Given how hard my cock is, I’m surprised at how gently I’m thrusting. But I actually want to draw this out. I want a reason to be connected to her. When I lift my head to look at her, her eyes shine back at me. I’ve seen that kind of look from other women before. There’s gratitude for the amazing orgasm but something like gratitude for the pain part, too. For taking them on a corporeal journey that tested their body. They’re thankful they made it through safely and relieved that their trust wasn’t misplaced. All that mix of endorphins and adrenaline makes for a heady experience. Sometimes it gets mistaken for love.

That’s why I don’t usually play more than twice with any one partner. But I’m past twice with Bridget.

And it’s not enough.

I start rolling my hips deeper and harder into her. Her lashes flutter, and she starts to moan consistently. She grabs my arms as she moves her hips in rhythm to my thrusts.

“Can I come, sir?” she asks.

Holy shit.I love the sound of “sir” on her lips. Love the way the crease between her brows shows up when she’s nearing her climax.

“You bet,” I reply, sweeping an arm beneath her left knee to open her more.

For several minutes, I sink myself into her depths. Feeling myself getting close, I switch up our positions. I sit up and have her stand in front in front of me, facing away, before pulling her down my cock. Her legs straddle mine, and she leans back against my chest. I palm her left breast while my right hand reaches for her clit. She wraps a hand around the back of my neck as I piston my hips upward.

“Oh…God…” she groans.

Her breaths and grunts grow louder. I shove into her while rubbing her clit and squeezing her breast. She climaxes, and I have to hold her down to keep her from bucking off my cock, which I start shoving into her relentlessly. Her cries, and the sound of flesh smacking flesh, fills the room.

Fuck.

My orgasm explodes. I can feel my veins wanting to burst. My back arches off the sofa. I pommel my hips like crazy into her backside, needing to empty every last drop into her, filling her, claiming her.

We stay as one with her still on my lap, lying against me, until I ask her if she wants to get a Shirly Temple from Felipe on the other side of the club.

“After I clean up,” she says. “Everything’s sticky down there.”

I button up a black silk shirt over my leather one while Bridget wraps my coat around her. We leave the room and head to the restrooms.

“See you on the other side,” I tell her.

She emerges after a few minutes. I walk her to the bar and notice that JD is there with a petite and pretty Wasian named Hannah, whose father was part of the Ah Kong during its height as one of the largest drug syndicates in the world.

Shit. I glance at Bridget to see if she’s noticed that JD’s flirting.

She has.

Hannah has spent the last few months with her family in Amsterdam, where the Ah Kong was based. She and I already had the chance to catch up last night when she stopped by the club. I regret mentioning to her that JD would likely be here the following night.

“Where you been, bro?” JD asks me.

“With Bridget,” I enunciate.

JD, either a little drunk or still high, hadn’t noticed her till I mentioned her.

“Oh, right,” he drawls.

Hannah introduces herself.

“You a friend of JD’s?” asks Bridget.

“I don’t know,” Hannah replies, turning to JD. “Am I?”

JD smiles before answering, “’Course.”

Hannah gives him a playful shove. Their gazes lock briefly.

Felipe approaches. “What can I get you?”

“A Shirley Temple and a bourbon,” I answer.

“How’s the jet lag?” Bridget asks JD.

There’s something in her tone. It’s not an innocent question.

He shrugs dismissively.

“Oh, that’s right. Your sister’s wedding,” Hannah says. “How was it? I bet it was beautiful.”

“Everything Andrea does has to be beautiful,” JD says.

Felipe sets our drinks down in front of us.

“You attended a wedding, too, recently,” I say to Hannah. “Tell JD what the couple did.”

Hannah proceeds to describe an extravagant wedding that included a cake decorated with over a thousand crystal rhinestones. When she mentions the bride’s brother, JD tells Hannah the story of when the two of them joined forces to pull a prank on Ron. Meanwhile, I finish my bourbon quickly.

“Bridget and I are going to head upstairs,” I say when JD’s done with his story.

“I’m not done with my drink,” she objects.

“Bring it with you.”

I take her elbow in one hand and grab her drink with the other.

“So who exactly is Hannah?” she asks.

I knew she was going to ask that. “An old employee,” I reply.

“Old? She looks pretty young.”

“Old meaning it’s been a while.”

“Did she work for you or JD?”

“Me. She did clerical work for about six months.”

Bridget is quiet when we reach the elevator to head up to my place, but I know more questions are coming. I can see the wheels turning as she nibbles on her thumbnail in thought.

“Hannah seems pretty friendly with JD,” Bridget remarks.

“That a problem?” I return.

“He told Amy he was too jet-lagged to come to the club.”

“Maybe he got a boost of energy,” I say as we step into the elevator. “Or maybe he just needs a break from Amy. He just spent over a week with her.”

“What do you mean by a ‘break?’”

Shit. Women get so hung up on specific words.

“Wouldn’t you want a break from me if you spent every single hour with me for over a week?” I ask her.

“I guess.”

Lost in thought, she seems to have lost track of anything else.

Finally, she feels my gaze and turns to me. “What?”

I pin her with my stare. “You’re picking at your stitches.”