Truly Madly Deeply: Chapter 55

“All That She Wants”—Ace of Base

I hated Tate Blackthorn.

Okay, fine. I didn’t actually know him, but it was half past midnight and Row was still on the phone with him in his office upstairs. The kitchen was the kind of squeaky clean where you could eat off the floor. Pans and pots gleamed, the air-conditioning was on full blast, and the only audible sound was the loud humming from industrial fridges.

After I slipped out of my work clothes into a pink, wooly dress, I allowed myself to sit on the butcher block counter, dangling my feet. Sweaty, tired, and in desperate need of one more drink, I scrolled on my phone through old notes I’d made for murder-mystery podcast episodes that I’d never had the courage to record.

There was a good chance Row was going to kill me. My ass was on the surface where he made ludicrously expensive, microscopic food. In my defense, there was nowhere else to sit. His face was nowhere in my vicinity, there were no chairs, and the dress was brand-new.

“Sorry it took long.” Row waltzed in, slapping the door open and moving toward me with the sleekness of a feline zeroing in on his prey.

“Heyyy. How was the phone ca—” I was about to jump off the counter but stopped cold when he cut into my words.

“About the attitude you’ve been giving me ever since you returned to Staindrop.”

“Yes?” I blinked innocently, heart almost thundering out of my chest and humping his leg.

“I’m about to fuck it out of you.”

He rounded the pastry station and slid between my thighs, making me spread my legs wider to accommodate him. I was surprised I could still breathe. The heat rolling off his body alone made my mouth water and my skin buzz with excitement.

“I—uhm, if you must.” I tried to downplay my own desire for him.

“I’m afraid I must. Permission to push your limits?” he asked, and I loved that he did. That he put my consent above all else.

I nodded, my chest expanding with fuzzy heat. “Granted.”

“How far?”

“The farthest.” I was feeling reckless and full of bravado, secure in the knowledge he would never ever hurt me.

“Your safe word is bumfuzzle,” he informed me. Rather than fear, all I felt was excitement.

“Why bumfuzzle?”

“Because one would never be tempted to use it as part of dirty talk.” He frowned. “Though with you, I’m not so sure.”

A nervous laughter escaped me, and I bit my lower lip. “I forgot you said only food goes on your butcher block.”

“No, you didn’t.” He leaned forward. I closed my eyes, bracing myself for a kiss, but the kiss never came. Instead, a sharp snapping sound filled my ears. My eyelids ripped open and I realized… What the fuck?

He had pinned one side of my dress to the butcher block by sticking a knife into it. I repeat: He had tacked me to his butcher block with a chef’s knife. “This is not the way I expected to be nailed,” I piped up.

I was aflame, burning with sweet ache and decadent desire. But also…was this going to turn into one of the cases I listened to on Morbid and My Favorite Murder?

No. He wouldn’t.

…would he?

If so, I was a willing victim. Dying in his hands was a lovely way to die.

“Trust me.” His eyes held mine, and I had a feeling this was an exercise in letting go. A trust fall of sorts. He wanted to bring me to the edge and show me that I was safe with him, no matter what.

“I trust you.” My voice was steady, leveled. Row grabbed another knife—just as big and scary—and pinned the other side of my dress to the block. I was now essentially glued to this board, completely at his mercy.

My mouth hung open. His eyes were hooded, clouded with desire and determination. He grabbed a third butcher’s knife from the neighboring station without moving an inch from his spot between my thighs and used the tip to tilt my chin up. Adrenaline zipped through my veins, making my entire being sore.

“I said only food goes on here,” he growled, baring his teeth. Yet somehow, I wasn’t scared. “So now, Dot, I have no choice but to eat you alive. Now, how does that sound?”

The pressure between my legs became almost impossible. My panties were soaked, my heat dripping a thin river down my thigh. He was pushing all my limits, pressing all my buttons, and showing me that I wasn’t scared. That I knew how to trust. Him. Myself.

“S-sign me up,” I said breathlessly.

“Do you like fluorescent lights, Dot?” He slid the tip of the butcher knife from my chin, down my neck, and toward the top of my dress. An excited tremor moved through me, my skin exploding with goose bumps. I hadn’t even known I liked knife play. Wait, was this knife play? The blade barely touched me. There was a lot of googling to be done when I got home.

“Big fan. Huge.”

“Good, baby.” With one swift motion, he tore the front of my dress with his knife, revealing my embarrassing gray Calvin Klein sports bra and my strained nipples behind it. “Because you’re about to be looking at them for some time.”

He dumped the knife on the board, flattened a hand over my rib cage, and pushed me down to lie firmly on the surface. I was pretty sure the majority of my blood flow ran straight to my clit, making me lightheaded. Fisting my panties (also gray Calvin Kleins), Row slid them down my legs and discarded them on the floor.

I couldn’t believe we were doing this in his kingdom. In his kitchen. He grabbed my left ankle and pressed my thigh down with his strong, capable hands, looping the back of my knee around the knife holding my dress. Then he did the same thing with my right leg, so I was spread eagle, awkwardly open wide right in front of him.

“Do you have any idea how many times I’ve fantasized about fucking you like this?” He trailed his rough knuckles along the soft flesh of my dripping slit leisurely, taking a long, unhurried look at my cunt. My inhibitions popped like buttons after Thanksgiving dinner. Pluck, pluck, pluck. He used the tip of his finger to stroke the seam of my pussy back and forth, teasing me lazily, his hand quivering to stop himself from ravenously devouring me. My inner thighs were wet and sticky with my need for him, and I bucked my hips forward, begging for more of his touch.

“A lot?” I purred, barely capable of producing words. What were thoughts anyway? I had no recollection of having formed any.

He lowered his head between my legs, pressing his entire mouth onto me and sucking my pussy whole. The pleasure was so sharp and maddening, I arched like a crescent moon and whimpered ferally at the foreign sensation.

“The answer is every single minute of every single day, of every single month, of every single year of my fucking life since you turned seventeen,” he growled, his hot tongue swirling and teasing, licking and penetrating.

My mouth fell open, my head lolling on the butcher block as I stared up at the ceiling while Row’s tongue disappeared between my folds, entering my narrow channel. A violent shudder ran through me. I fastened my fingers in the thick, dark strands of his hair, shuddering not only with pleasure but also with glee. I’d never been this intimate with a man before. This comfortable in my own skin.

I didn’t trust people.

I did trust Row. With my body. With my life. Just…maybe not with my heart.

That was the only organ I wanted to keep for myself.

He fucked me raw with his tongue while swirling his thumb over my clit. I gasped, tightening my grip on his hair. My muscles began to spasm, both from the way my legs were stretched open and an impending orgasm.

“So delicious. So fucking tight.” He kissed my inner thighs, biting softly, spreading my wetness over my skin, then diving back for another lick. He began kissing his way up my body, nibbling, kissing, and tonguing, toying with my clit using his thumb. “That first time I fucked you, I thought I was going to come before I was halfway in. I couldn’t believe my luck.”

My eyes prickled with tears because I knew how I’d treated him not even minutes later. How I’d discarded and belittled him because I couldn’t admit my feelings toward him to Dylan—to myself.

“Row…”

“Shh.” My orgasm seized me, a yelp of joy tearing through my mouth as my entire body tightened and froze, hardening like a clenched fist, and then all of a sudden, heat spread over my entire body as my muscles relaxed.

His lips skimmed up my stomach, tongue dipping into my belly button and swirling playfully as his fingers kept playing me like a piano, knowing all the chords, breathing life into me with music only we could hear. “I don’t want to talk about the past. I want to focus on the present. And what a lovely fucking present you are.” He tugged the thin strap of my sports bra, dragging it with a trembling hand until the sound of fabric tearing assaulted my ears. Every nerve ending in my body was ablaze, my core achingly empty, begging to be filled with him. He covered my puckered nipple with his mouth and traced the areola with the tip of his tongue. Christ almighty, I was going to combust right here on his station and win him a C from the health department for unsanitary conditions.

My eyes rolled in their sockets, stars exploding on the backs of my eyelids.

A knock on the door snapped us out of our trance. We both froze, bolting upright, our eyes meeting in horror.

“I…Chef?” I could practically hear Taylor awkwardly drawing circles with the tip of his shoe on the floor on the other end. “I forgot my headphones.” The door shook back and forth as Taylor tried to open it up, but it was locked from within.

“No fucking way I’m waiting another second to fuck you,” Row said, his eyes murderous. He flattened his entire palm against my pussy. My cunt dripped so much, it slicked his hand, making it slippery. That was when I realized…he had put something inside me. In my pussy. A…small zucchini?

“We’re closed,” Row grumbled, eyes still trained on me as I writhed and rocked back and forth while he slid the zucchini in and out of me, a sweaty, horny mess in his Adonis arms. “Fuck off, Chef.”

“But I—”

“Fuck. Off. I cannot stress this enough. If you value your job, you’ll get out of here,” Row barked. After a pause, he added, “I can still hear you breathing. I said get out!”

The squeaks of sneakers running along the oak floor sounded, evaporating as Taylor exited the restaurant. Row picked up a candy cane from his station, pushed my legs farther open, and grabbed my waist, scooting me to the edge. “I don’t like these.” He played with the candy cane like it was a pen between his fingers. “I find them culinarily offensive, but Rhy gave me one.”

“I like them.” I licked my lips. Did I, though? I had officially been reduced to hormones and flesh.

“Want to experiment?” Row cocked one thick, dark brow.

“Yeah,” I groaned. “I do.”

With our eyes still holding one another, he began slowly pushing the candy cane through my tight hole while still shoving the zucchini into me. It was peeled, so it felt sleek and lubed as it slid in and out of me effortlessly. I chased the cold, sticky sensation of it. “Just stretching you out, baby.” Row leaned between my legs to steal a dirty kiss full of tongue. “I want to make sure it fits. Can’t hurt you like last time.”

I nodded enthusiastically, wanting to be a good girl for him. To please him. The candy cane was now firmly inside my rectum, the hook poking outside for easy removal, like a tiny tail. The pressure felt delicious inside my ass. I was going to combust. I was sure of it. He moved the zucchini in and out of me, stretching my pussy, helping me get used to something bigger than my vibrator. “Is this okay, sweetheart?” He held the zucchini by the base, angling it up to hit my G-spot, making me shamelessly scoot down and chase more of it.

“It’s perfect.”

“Good, sweetheart. You’re almost ready.” Row lowered down to a deep squat and fastened his teeth around the hook of the candy cane, slowly prying it out of my ass. The sensation was heavenly. I couldn’t stop moving, squirming, moaning loud enough to be heard from space.

“I’m coming,” I panted.

“Not until I tell you to.” His teeth were locked over the hook of the candy cane, but I was moving and thrusting, not wanting him to withdraw it all the way. If it broke off and I had to spend the night at the hospital, removing seasonal sweets from my ass, I was going to kill him.

“Row, I don’t think I can—”

“Ask nicely,” he murmured into the seam between my pussy and my ass. “And I’ll give it to you. Ask not so nicely, and I might take it from you. Understand?”

Row was always controlling at work, so it shouldn’t surprise me he was the exact same way in bed.

“Please, can I come? I can’t hold it anymore.” Though I sort of could. And it felt really good too. Riding that just-before-orgasm train a tad longer.

“Who owns you?”

“You do.” My breath caught as pressure built between my legs again. I would give him everything in my bank account and a large portion of my nonvital internal organs at this point to be able to come.

“That’s right. Cum all over the zucchini, Dot.”

The orgasm washed over me, and I went under willingly. Every cell in my body blossomed. He withdrew the zucchini from inside me, slam-dunking it into a nearby trash can. He then used his fingers to scoop my cum from my pussy, slowly trailing them between the lips until he produced sticky, gooey cum. He popped his fingers into his mouth, devouring my desire for him, rubbing his fingertips over his teeth like my scent was pure cocaine. Row then trailed his hand up my stomach and gave my tightened nipple a gentle slap. Delirious with pleasure and glee, I grabbed his wrist and hoisted myself up, pressing my lips against his.

He opened immediately for me, whirling his tongue against mine, and we kissed deep and slow and passionate. The kind of kiss that made wet noises. The kind of kiss that tilted the world upside down and spilled its entire contents to the universe’s floor.

“So, that sounded very unhygienic.” Taylor sighed behind the door. “Still here, by the way. Really need those AirPods.”

My eyes widened in alarm. He came back. We must’ve not heard him.

“I will buy you three pairs of AirPods if you just fuck off!” Row growled into our kiss.

“Third generation pro?” Taylor stressed. Little fucker. He sure knew an opportunity when he saw one.

“Yes!”

Taylor chuckled. “Deal.”

Row’s lips rolled along my jaw, down to my neck, kissing every inch of my torso, marking me all over. He gave my nipple a tug with his teeth. “Row,” I moaned. “I want you to fuck me.”

He popped his head up, looking flushed, surprised, and ruggedly gorgeous. “That’s what I’m trying to do here. It’s called foreplay.”

“Foreplay?” I blinked, confused. “I’ve been ready for you for at least five weeks now.”

He chuckled, plastering his forehead against mine, kissing me hard. Our teeth clashed, and I fumbled with his Henley, jerking it desperately off him. As soon as it landed on the floor, I pushed him back, panting. “Let me take a look. I’ve been wanting to ogle you peacefully since I was fourteen.”

He unpinned me from the knives and stepped back, his pecs and abs so taut they looked hand-drawn. Almost every inch of him was inked, covering sculpted muscles and skin. Macabre tattoos of Cambros, and a skull with a chef hat, and more. I now knew they were all designed to hide the scars his father had left behind. A constant reminder of what Row had had to endure as a child.

It was that last tattoo that gave me pause, though. Of an anatomic heart with flowers spurting out of it. I remembered him telling me I reminded him of such a thing. And now I understood why.

Because the flowers spurting from the heart weren’t just any flowers.

They were callas.

I swallowed hard, burning the tattoo into memory. He ran a hand over the tattoo self-consciously, obstructing it from view. “Not getting any younger here, Dot.”

But I couldn’t brush it off. I hopped off the counter, standing next to him. His eyes followed me as I lowered myself and pressed a kiss to his tattoo silently. Words weren’t needed. Just the silence between us that told him I heard his message, loud and clear.

I rose up to my full height. Which still barely reached his belly button. “Turn around.”

He frowned. “Wh—”

“Trust, remember?” I raised my eyebrows.

He did, spinning on his heel, his face toward the door. His back was tattooed too, but I could still see the white, jagged belts of scars on his skin. I pressed a kiss to a bumpy wound between his shoulder blades. His skin budded with goose bumps. A small hiss escaped him. “You’re so beautiful,” I murmured, my lips chasing the constellation of scars under his ink. “Not just handsome, beautiful. In a dark, terrifying way.”

He was very quiet as my hands roamed his muscular arms, as I kissed every scarred inch of him. He looked like his body was dipped in gold, and still, he had no idea how beautiful he was. I had a feeling Row didn’t know how to accept love. He only knew how to give it to Dylan and Zeta. When I was done, I pressed my forehead between his shoulder blades and rasped, “You can turn back now.” He did, his eyes molten, burning with something I recognized because he kindled it in me too.

“I want us to fuck,” I admitted, somehow full of confidence and resolute. “I don’t want it to be sweet and soft. I want it to be frantic and all-consuming.”

He said nothing, giving me a moment to change my mind. I wasn’t going to. I knew what I wanted. “I’m clean.” I arched back, my center pressed against his erection.

“Yeah? Well, I’m about to dirty you up.”

He grabbed me by the waist, flipped me around, and pushed me against his cooking station. Bending me over the surface by holding the nape of my neck, he flipped my dress up and ran his hand between my legs. “Palms against the butcher block, Dot.”

I complied without question.

Row reached to move a hand over my glistening center. “Look at that delicious pussy.” He fisted his cock, running the tip in circles around the tender, swollen lips. “Begging to be fucked.”

I pressed my forehead to the surface, unsure how much more teasing I could take. “Row, please.”

“Close your legs for me.” He caught my waist from behind, kissing my neck and running the fat crown of his cock up and down my slit. It was damp with warm precum. “Aren’t you going to ask me if I’m clean too?”

I would, if I were able to form one coherent thought. I pressed my thighs together, choking out, “Are you?”

His nose disappeared in my hair, and he slid halfway into me from behind. Already, I felt unbearably full, the combination of his size and my position with pressed thighs making him almost too much to handle. “Yeah. I’m clean.”

He drove into me all at once. And he was so much. Too much. I cried out, clawing my fingernails on the counter. “Ahhhh.”

“Very eloquent, baby.” He bent his knees to accommodate my height when he pressed into me again, pushing to the hilt this time. He was so big, his tip probably tickled my kidneys. He covered my palms on the counter, lacing his fingers in mine, and a dangerous zing of heat ripped through me.

“So fucking tight,” he groaned, beginning to thrust inside me. The walls of my pussy resisted his size, his width, but he still pushed through. Through his roughness, I learned my ability to endure.

“That’s exactly what I said when I tried to squeeze into my high school jeans this morning.” My head lolled in elation.

“So sassy.” He gave the back of my shoulder a tender bite. “Your smart mouth always made me make stupid mistakes, Dot.”

I grunted each time he drove inside me, the position making my hip bones dig into the hard surface. Each time they ground against the butcher block, I hissed out as my skin chafed. We were acting out his fantasy, and more than I was delirious with joy about getting fucked, being full, I enjoyed that he’d finally gotten his wish.

“Poor little Dot. Here. Let me help.” He grabbed me by the hip bones, sliding me up the surface so I was flung over it, feet in the air. There was something about that angle that made it so much filthier and wilder and hotter. Like I was a ragged, inflatable doll he’d haphazardly tossed on a piece of furniture so he could plow into it.

The friction was insane.

His cock swelled and grew even more inside me.

The orgasm ripping through me threatened to ignite me.

“Fuck, Dot. Gonna come now.”

“I’m close too.”

We both fell apart together, groaning and gasping, my nerve endings on fire. He rolled off me, his breath tickling my neck when he gently turned me back around to face him.

“Hey.” He kissed the tip of my nose, a shy smile gracing his lips.

“Hi,” I said breathlessly, still amazed I had been a part of that intense, sexy, brazen scene.

“Social anxiety level?” He tilted his chin down.

“Minus thirty.”

“That’s my girl.”

That’s my girl.

That’s my girl.

That’s my girl.

But his girl currently had a huge problem on her hands.

Because this didn’t feel temporary.

It felt like forever.