Chapter 6: The Bedroom and the Books
The lock clicked behind them, a small decisive sound that seemed to echo through the dim apartment. Maisie stood in the entryway, her heart hammering against her ribs as she took in the space around her. The walls were lined with shelves upon shelves of books, their spines worn and familiar, and above them, framed posters of starships and dark Jedi stared down with painted intensity. A Darth Maul action figure stood sentinel on one shelf, his double-bladed lightsaber raised in permanent defiance. The air smelled like paper and something faintly citrus, and a single floor lamp cast a pool of golden light across the room.
She felt his hands on her shoulders, warm and grounding, before she even realized he'd moved behind her. His chest pressed against her back, solid and reassuring, and she let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding.
"Welcome to my kingdom," he murmured against her ear, his lips brushing the shell of it. "I hope you don't mind the mess."
She turned her head slightly, catching his profile in the lamplight. "You have a signed copy of the Thrawn trilogy," she said, her voice a little breathless. "I'm not going to complain about a little mess."
His chuckle was low and warm, and then his lips were on her neck, soft at first, almost reverent. She tilted her head to give him better access, a small involuntary sound escaping her as his mouth traced a path along her skin. The touch sent a shiver racing down her spine, settling somewhere deep in her belly, where a familiar warmth was beginning to stir.
His hands slid down her arms, then around her waist, pulling her back against him. She felt him against her ass—already half-hard, growing harder with every passing second. She pressed back, deliberately, and heard him groan against her neck.
"You're going to kill me," he breathed, his teeth grazing her skin.
"That's the general idea."
His hand tangled in her hair, fisting the copper strands at the nape of her neck, and he pulled. Not hard enough to hurt—just enough to make her gasp, to tilt her head back and expose the long column of her throat to his hungry mouth. He took advantage immediately, sucking at the spot where her neck met her shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark.
"Take off your jeans," he said, his voice rough and commanding.
She didn't hesitate. Her hands fumbled with the button, the zipper, and she shoved the dark denim down her thighs. The air was cool against her suddenly exposed skin, and she felt a thrill run through her as she stood there in just her shirt and panties.
"Shirt too," he added, stepping back to watch her.
She pulled the black blouse over her head and let it fall to the floor. The mirror across the room caught her reflection, and she saw herself the way he must have been seeing her—small and pale and freckled, with her red hair mussed around her shoulders. And the bodysuit.
The lace was black, delicate, and scandalously minimal. It covered her small breasts in a whisper of fabric that did nothing to hide the shape of them, the tight peaks of her nipples pressing against the intricate pattern. The thin strip of lace ran down her torso, a tantalizing trail that disappeared between her legs, where she knew there was a hidden clasp he hadn't discovered yet. The same strip ran up her back, over her shoulders, leaving almost everything else bare.
Adam made a sound. It was low and rough and feral, the sound of something deeply satisfied and barely restrained. "Fuck," he said, the word drawn out, reverent.
She watched him in the mirror as he approached. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide, and he was looking at her like she was the only thing in the room, the only thing in the world. He stood behind her again, his chest against her back, and his hand slid down her side, over the curve of her hip, until his fingers found the lace between her legs.
"You've been hiding this from me?" His voice was a growl in her ear.
"Had to keep some surprises."
His fingers pressed against the fabric, finding the heat beneath it, and she gasped. He stroked her through the lace, back and forth, teasing, and she felt the dampness already soaking through. His other hand tightened in her hair again, pulling her head back.
"Look at you," he whispered, his breath hot against her ear. "So wet for me. I haven't even touched you properly yet and you're already soaked."
"Adam—"
"You're shaking, Maisie." His fingers found her clit through the lace, circling it with agonizing precision. "Is this what you wanted? You wanted me to touch you like this?"
"Yes—"
"Tell me." He pressed harder, and she bucked against his hand. "Tell me what you want."
"I want—" She gasped as his fingers pushed harder, the lace rough against her swollen flesh. "I want you to fuck me. I want you to—"
"What?" He bit her earlobe, tugging. "Use your words."
"I want you to be rough." It came out in a rush, desperate and raw. "I want you to— to pin me down and—"
"You want me to take you apart," he finished for her, his voice dark with promise. "You want me to use you until you can't think anymore. Until all you can remember is my name and my cock."
She moaned, a broken sound that seemed to surprise even her. "Yes. Yes, please—"
He lifted her. One arm hooked under her knees and another around her waist, sweeping her off her feet with an ease that made her gasp. She clutched at his shoulders, her heart racing, and he carried her to the bed.
The bed was a disaster—books and papers scattered everywhere, the sheets tangled and half-unzipped. He dropped her in the one clear spot, and she bounced on the mattress, looking up at him with wide eyes. He swept the rest of the books onto the floor with a single motion, the sound of paperbacks hitting the carpet dull and final.
Then he stripped.
She watched, transfixed, as he pulled his shirt over his head, revealing the lean muscles of his chest. He toed off his shoes, unfastened his jeans, and pushed them down his hips, and then he was naked. His cock stood thick and hard against his stomach, and she felt a pulse of heat between her legs at the sight of it.
He climbed onto the bed, over her, his body covering hers completely. His lips met hers in a searing kiss, all tongue and teeth and hunger, and she melted into him. His hands found her wrists, pinning them above her head with a firm grip, and she felt a rush of submission that made her dizzy.
He pulled back just enough to look at her, his dark eyes searching hers. "You're sure about this?"
She nodded, her chest heaving. "I'm sure. I want this. I want you."
"Say it. Tell me exactly what you want."
"I want you to be rough." Her voice was steady now, certain. "I want you to pull my hair and hold me down and not be gentle. I want you to fuck me like you mean it."
A slow, dark smile spread across his face. "Good girl."
He released her wrists and sat back on his heels. "Kneel."
She scrambled onto her knees, facing him, and he guided her forward with a hand on the back of her head. His cock was inches from her face, thick and flushed, and she parted her lips, ready.
"Open wide," he instructed, and she obeyed.
He slid into her mouth, and she closed her lips around him. The weight of him on her tongue was heavy and hot, and she looked up at him through her lashes, her mouth full. He groaned, his fingers tightening in her hair.
"Fuck, Maisie. Your mouth is—" He thrust forward, shallow, and she took him deeper. "That's it. Like that."
She worked him with her tongue, her hand wrapping around the base of his shaft, stroking in rhythm with her mouth. He let her set the pace for a moment, his hips rocking gently. Then his grip tightened in her hair, and he started to move with more purpose, pulling her onto him, using her mouth.
"Look at you," he breathed, his voice strained. "So fucking perfect. Taking me so well."
She moaned around him, the vibration making him shudder. He pulled out, a string of saliva connecting her lips to the head of his cock, and he smeared it over his shaft with his thumb.
"Bend over," he said.
She turned, her hands finding the edge of the bed, her knees sinking into the mattress. She felt his hands on her hips, positioning her, and then his fingers found the lace between her legs. He traced the line of fabric, and she felt him discover the hidden velcro closure.
"Well, well," he murmured. "What have we here?"
He tugged at the fastener, and the lace split apart, exposing her completely. The cool air hit her soaked skin, and she gasped, her fingers curling into the sheets. He didn't waste any time. Two thick fingers plunged inside her, and she cried out, the sensation overwhelming.
"You're so wet," he said, his voice full of wonder and dirt. "Dripping for me, aren't you?"
"Yes—" She pushed back against his hand, desperate for more. "Please, Adam—"
"Please what?" He curled his fingers, finding that spot inside her that made her see stars. "Please what, sweetheart?"
"Please fuck me. I need— I need your cock. Please."
He pulled his fingers out with a wet sound, and she heard him positioning himself behind her. The head of his cock pressed against her entrance, teasing, and she whimpered.
"Beg for it," he said, his voice dark and low.
"Please," she begged, her voice cracking. "I'm begging you. I need you inside me. Please—"
He thrust into her with one brutal, perfect motion.
She screamed. It was too much, not enough, exactly what she needed. He filled her completely, stretching her around him, and she felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes as he began to move.
"Fuck," he gritted out, his hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise. "You feel— you feel incredible. So tight. So perfect."
His hand found her hair again, fisting the copper strands and yanking her head back. She arched into it, a guttural moan tearing from her throat as he pounded into her, each stroke hitting deeper than the last.
"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" His voice was ragged, savage. "You wanted to be used. Wanted to be fucked until you couldn't think. Tell me you fucking want it. Tell me—"
"I want it!" She was sobbing now, her body trembling around him. "I want it, Adam. Don't stop. Never stop—"
He pulled out and flipped her over, spreading her legs wide and driving back into her with a single motion. Her back arched off the bed, his name a prayer on her lips as he slammed into her, over and over, wild and demanding.
"Look at me," he commanded, and her eyes found his, hazy and unfocused. "I want you to see me while I take you. I want you to remember my face when you come."
His eyes bore into hers, dark and unblinking, and she felt the weight of his gaze like a physical thing. She was pinned beneath him, his cock buried to the hilt inside her, and she knew she was going to shatter. There was no stopping it—the pressure building low in her belly, the heat coiling tighter with every rhythmic thrust.
"Fuck, Adam—" Her voice came out broken, barely a whisper. "I'm close. I'm so close—"
"Not yet." He pulled out almost completely, then slammed back in, making her cry out. "You don't come until I tell you to. Not until I'm inside you exactly where I want you."
The words were cruel, delicious. A sob escaped her, her fingers clawing at the sheets. She was desperate now, teetering on the edge, her body trembling with the effort of holding back.
"Please," she gasped, her hips bucking against him. "Please, I need—"
"You need what?" He thrust again, harder this time, and a lightning bolt of pleasure shot through her. "Tell me what you need, Maisie."
She couldn't form the words. Her mind was a haze of sensation—his cock stretching her, his hands rough on her skin, his voice wrapping around her like a command.
"Choke me." The words fell out of her, raw and unguarded. "Please, Adam, choke me. I want to feel it. I want to feel you everywhere—"
His hand released her wrists, and for a moment she thought he was going to stop. But instead, he grabbed her throat, his fingers wrapping around her slender neck with just enough pressure to make her breath catch. Not tight enough to hurt—just enough to remind her who was in control.
"Like this?" He squeezed slightly, and her eyes fluttered. "Is this what you wanted, sweetheart?"
"Yes—" The word was strangled, barely audible. "Yes, oh god, yes—"
He fucked her harder, his fingers tightening on her neck in rhythm with his thrusts. Stars burst behind her eyes as her hands flew to his chest, nails digging into his skin, leaving angry red trails across his pectorals. She heard him hiss, felt his hips stutter for just a heartbeat, and then he drove into her with renewed intensity.
Her legs wrapped around his waist, heels digging into his lower back, pulling him impossibly deeper. She could feel him everywhere—in her throat, in her cunt, in the very marrow of her bones. He was consuming her, and she was letting him, grateful, desperate, lost.
"That's it," he growled, his voice low and savage. "Take all of me. Fucking take it."
She wanted to tell him she was his, that he could do anything to her, but coherent thought had abandoned her. All she could do was feel—the way his cock hit that perfect spot inside her with every deep, relentless thrust. His fingers squeezed her throat harder, cutting off her air, and her eyes rolled back in her head.
"Look at me." His voice was commanding, cutting through the haze. "I want to watch you come. I want to watch you fall apart on my cock."
She forced her eyes open, meeting his gaze as he pounded into her. Her lips parted, a long, low moan escaping her as the pressure inside her built to a fever pitch. She could feel herself on the brink, the orgasm cresting like a wave about to break.
"How's my cock feel, Maisie?" He moved his hand from her throat, and she gasped for air, lungs burning, head spinning. "Tell me. Tell me how it feels."
"Perfect," she sobbed. "So fucking perfect—"
He plunged back into her, and she shattered.
The orgasm tore through her like a freight train, violent and consuming. She screamed his name as her walls clamped around him, her whole body convulsing as waves of pleasure crashed over her. He didn't stop. He kept pounding into her, riding out her climax, dragging it out until she was sobbing, twitching, utterly wrecked.
"Fuck—" He pulled out just in time, his breath ragged. "Fuck, Maisie, you're going to make me—"
He grabbed her, pulling her forward onto her knees, and in the space of a heartbeat he was in her mouth, cock slick with her juices. She took him eagerly, her lips stretched around him, desperate to taste him. He thrust into her mouth with the same ferocity he'd used on her cunt, his hands tangled in her hair, and she let him, submitting completely.
"Swallow it," he commanded, and she obeyed.
He came with a low, guttural groan, flooding her mouth with his release. She moaned around him, swallowing steadily, loving the taste of him, the submission, the raw intimacy of the moment. She licked him clean, her tongue lapping at him until he shuddered and pulled back.
They collapsed onto the tangled sheets, him naked and slick with sweat, her still in the crumpled lace bodysuit, the crotch open and hanging uselessly. They lay side by side, breathing hard, their bodies intertwined like a pair of shipwrecked survivors.
"That was..." She trailed off, searching for words that didn't exist.
"The best sex of my life," she finally said, her head resting on his chest. She looked up at him, her eyes still heavy with pleasure. "I didn't know it could be like that. I didn't know I could feel that."
One hand traced a lazy pattern through the hair on his chest while the other came up to cup his jaw, her thumb brushing the rough stubble there. He turned his head, planting a slow, tender kiss on her knuckles, and she felt something shift in her chest.
"Good," he said, his voice rough but gentle. "Because I'm not done with you yet."
She smiled, drifting, the memory of his cock still inside her, exactly like she wanted.
She smiled, drifting, the memory of his cock still inside her, exactly like she wanted. The warmth of him pressed against her side grounded her, and for a long moment, neither of them moved, their breathing slowly syncing into a shared rhythm. The lamp cast a soft golden glow across the tangled sheets, catching the sheen of sweat on his chest.
His hand found her hair, fingers threading through the tangled copper strands with a gentleness that seemed almost at odds with what they'd just done. He stroked her scalp, slow and soothing, and she felt herself melting into the mattress. Then his fingers curled beneath her chin, tilting her face up to his.
He kissed her. Not fierce or demanding this time, but deep and searching, his tongue sliding against hers in a lazy dance. She hummed against his lips, her fingers finding the back of his neck, pulling him closer. She bit his lower lip, just a gentle nip, a playful tease, and felt his answering smile against her mouth.
"You're trouble," he murmured.
"You like it."
He pushed her onto her back with a sudden surge of energy, his body covering hers before she could catch her breath. He hooked her legs over his shoulders, folding her nearly in half, and she gasped as the head of his cock pressed against her slick, sensitive entrance. He held her gaze as he pushed inside, slow and deliberate, and she felt every inch of him stretching her, filling her completely.
"Fuck," she breathed.
"That's it." He began to move, his strokes long and deep, punctuated by sharp snaps of his hips. "Take all of me. You can do it, sweetheart."
Her hands fisted in the sheets, twisting the fabric as he pounded into her. He was relentless, not giving her a moment to adjust, driving her toward another peak with brutal efficiency. The new angle changed everything—he hit deeper now, something primal and desperate clawing up her spine.
"You feel so good," she gasped, her eyes rolling back. "So fucking good, Adam."
He leaned down, his lips brushing her ankle, then her calf. He kissed her through the thin fabric of her socks, his stubble scraping against her skin, and the tenderness of the gesture felt like a shock against the violence of his thrusts. She glanced down at him, confused and overwhelmed, watching as he pressed another kiss to the arch of her foot.
"What are you—"
"Dirty words of affection," he murmured against her skin. "I'm going to fuck you senseless, and I'm going to kiss every inch of you while I do it, and you're going to feel so cherished you'll forget your own name."
She moaned, the sound breaking apart in her throat. He kept kissing her, his mouth working its way up her leg even as his hips never slowed. Ankle, instep, calf, knee—each touch a brand of tenderness against the raw heat of his thrusts. The contradiction drove her mad, her hands clawing at the sheets.
"You're going to make me—"
"I know." He kissed the inside of her thigh. "Come for me, Maisie. Come on my cock."
She shattered with a scream, her body bucking against him as the orgasm ripped through her. He followed her over the edge almost immediately, his hips slamming into her as he came, his own groan swallowed by the taste of her skin. She felt his release inside her, hot and claiming, and she sobbed with the intimacy of it.
They lay tangled for a moment, breathing hard, before he pulled out. She felt empty without him, a loss that surprised her. He rolled off and stripped the ruined bodysuit from her body, revealing her pale, flushed skin in the lamplight. Her freckles stood out against the red blotches spread across her chest.
"Beautiful," he said, his voice thick with wonder.
He pulled her close, rolling onto his back and taking her with him so she was straddling his chest. His hands roamed her body—her breasts, her hips, the curve of her ass—and he kissed her collarbone, the hollow of her throat, the spot behind her ear. She trembled above him, oversensitive and aching.
"Ride me," he said, his voice a low command.
She started to position herself over his cock, reaching down to guide him in, but he caught her wrists. "Turn around," he said, nodding toward the mirror across the room. "I want to watch you."
A flush crept up her neck, but she obeyed. She turned, straddling him in reverse, and felt the head of his cock press against her slick entrance. The mirror caught her reflection—small and pale, with his dark hands gripping her hips from behind, his cock sliding into her as she sank down.
"Fuck," she breathed, watching herself take him.
He grabbed her wrists, pinning them behind her back, and she arched against the stretch. His other hand came down on her ass, a sharp slap that made her gasp. The sting bloomed across her skin, hot and stinging. She clenched around him, and he grunted.
"You feel that?" His voice was rough. "Feel how good you take me? How perfect you look riding my cock?"
She watched him sink into her, again and again, his thighs flexing beneath her. Her toes curled in her socks as she rose and fell, her own reflection fucking herself on him, hair tumbling wild and red down her back. The mirror didn't lie, and the sight of it pushed her deeper into a well of desperate hunger.
"Keep going," he urged, his fingers digging into her wrists. "Don't stop."
She rode him harder, frantic now, chasing the peak she could feel building again. His hand came down on her ass again, the slap echoing in the quiet room, and she cried out, her pace faltering.
"I'm close," she gasped. "Adam, I'm so close—"
His free hand snaked around her hip, finding her clit. He wasn't gentle. He pinched and rubbed, rough and unyielding, and she was gone. She shattered with a scream, her body convulsing around him, and she felt him lose control beneath her. His hips bucked up into her, once, twice, and then he was coming, filling her with a flood of heat.
She fell forward onto the bed, spent and trembling, and he pulled her into his arms before she could collapse entirely. She felt the trickle of his release leaking from her, warm and sticky against her thighs. For a long while, neither of them spoke. The lamp burned, the room quiet save for the sound of their breathing slowing into sleep.