Chapter 170: Episode 169: Drax a bit too rough [19+]

Drax lays her down on the wide black bed. The sheets feel cool and smooth under her back.

The room is dark: black walls, black curtains heavy at the windows, a big black frame around the mattress that takes up most of the space.

Back in the Ironwood manor, in a room where his portrait stood and no sign of Roxy’s portrait.

Which was a relief.

Rue looks up at him, pink eyes quiet. "Why here?"

He puts one knee on the mattress. Black hair falls forward a little. "Because you look pretty on my things."

He told her he would be gentle. He is not.

His hands pull her clothes away without pause. The shirt first, then the rest. He looks at her like she already belongs here. Then his own clothes drop to the floor.

He climbs over her and takes her mouth hard. The kiss is deep and sure. When he pulls back his green eyes stay on hers. "Open."

She does. Her legs part. He pushes in with one long thrust that forces the air from her lungs in a soft rush. No slow start. He fills her at once, thick and deep, and the stretch draws a quiet sound from her throat. Her fingers curl into the black sheets.

Drax sets a hard rhythm right away. The bed creaks under them. Each thrust drives her higher on the mattress until her silver-white hair fans across the dark pillows. He holds both her wrists above her head with one hand and uses the other to squeeze her breast. Milk beads under his palm.

He bends and takes the tip into his mouth, sucking while he keeps moving inside her. The pull and the hard slide together make her toes curl against the sheets.

He does not stay on the bed long.

He pulls out, turns her onto her stomach, and lifts her hips. Then he is back inside, deeper this way. His hand lands on her backside with a sharp smack that makes her body jolt. Another.

"So deliciously mine..." he groans.

He keeps thrusting while he does it, the sound of skin on skin loud in the quiet room. Rue’s face presses into the dark pillow. She does not speak. She rarely does. But her body answers, soft and open, taking every hard stroke. A faint tremor runs through her thighs.

When he wants her against the wall he simply picks her up. Her legs wrap around his waist. He pins her to the wall and drives up into her again and again. The impact of each thrust makes her breasts bounce. Milk leaks down her skin in thin warm trails. He licks one trail away, then bites the side of her neck just hard enough to leave a mark.

His groan rolls out of him, low, rough, the sound that turns her insides soft and warm. Her fingers dig into his shoulders. Her breath comes in short, quiet gasps against his ear.

She feels the strength in him, the way he holds her up like she weighs nothing, the way he claims every inch.

He carries her to the heavy desk next. One arm sweeps the surface clear. He lays her on her back across the black wood and stands between her thighs. He sinks in slow this time, just long enough to watch her face, then starts moving hard again.

The desk scrapes against the floor. Her silver hair hangs off the edge. He leans over her, one hand braced beside her head, the other rolling her nipple between his fingers until more milk spills across her skin.

"Look at you," he says. "All over my desk. All over my room."

Rue’s pink eyes stay on his. Soft. Open. She feels the dominance in every hard stroke, every place he puts her. It should make the rabbit in her want to hide.

It does not. Something warm and quiet spreads under her skin instead. Her hands rest on his arms, feeling the lean muscle work as he takes her.

He takes her to the floor next, down on the thick black rug. She is on her hands and knees. He kneels behind her and slides home with a single deep push that makes her arms tremble.

His hands grip her hips hard enough to leave faint marks. The pace is relentless.

Each thrust pushes a soft sound out of her. Milk drips onto the rug beneath her breasts. He reaches under and finds the sensitive spot between her legs, rubbing in tight circles while he keeps driving into her.

The double feeling builds fast. When it breaks she shakes under him, body clenching tight around him, a quiet cry muffled against her own arm.

He does not stop. He turns her onto her back on the rug and covers her, still buried deep. His green eyes hold hers while he moves again, slower now, but deep, grinding against her so she feels every inch.

His beautiful groan slips out when she tightens around him once more. The sound alone makes her soft inside. He comes with a hard final thrust, flooding her, forehead pressed to hers. His breath is warm on her cheek.

They stay like that for a stretch of quiet breaths. His weight is warm and heavy on her. Her fuller body soft under him.

She can feel his heart beating against her chest. Her own heart answers it, steady and calm. No rush of words. No need to say what already sits between them.

Then he pulls free and stands, lifting her with him as if she is light. Her legs stay around his waist for a moment before he settles her against his chest.

He carries her out the back of the manor. The night air is cool on her bare skin. A stream runs behind the old stone walls, clear and shallow under the moonlight. He steps into the water with her still in his arms and lowers them both.

The cold makes her draw a sharp breath. He smiles against her hair, that small curve of mouth that shows he is pleased.

He washes her slowly, cupping water over her breasts, between her legs, down her thighs. His hands linger on the soft places, the marks he left, the places still tender. When she is clean he rinses himself, then pulls her close again in the waist-deep water. The current moves gently around their legs.

Already hard once more, he lifts her so her legs settle around his hips. The blunt head of him presses against her entrance under the water. Green eyes meet pink ones. The look in his eyes was clear. He wants her again, right here, right now.

Rue’s eyes widened a fraction. Her voice is soft, almost a breath.

"Again?"