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"Violet! Violet!" A new voice joins the cacophony from my left. "The mail reported you've been receiving threats for your statements on women's rights, will you talk about that?!"
I can practically feel Xaden hovering behind me, his eyes drilling a hole in the back of my head, willing me to keep walking. I have a bad habit of not listening to him.
"It's true," I shrug a shoulder, batting away a piece of hair that's fallen from my braid. "People threaten me all the time—the price of being a Sorrengail, I guess." I offer the press a self-deprecating smile. "Lately it's gotten a little louder, but nothing I can't handle."
"You won't change your opinion?" Another reporter calls, thrusting her microphone closer.
"Never." I shake my head. "As long as I'm still breathing I'm going to speak out about it. I won't let people like that try and drag us backward. As far as I'm concerned, they're cowards." I lift my chin. "Real men don't threaten women—or anyone else. These people resort to violence because they're not smart enough to get their ideals across any other way."
A warm hand flattens itself against my spine—Xaden. "Ms. Sorrengail is expected inside," he informs the press, his voice polite, but I can tell from the pressure of his touch, the way he curls his fingers, that he's pissed.
"Thank you," I nod to the press amiably, despite the fact that they should be thanking me. As he guides me toward the door a few feet away, Xaden dips his head, his lips brushing the shell of my ear.
"I told you not to do that," he murmurs, and oh yes—he's pissed.
"I won't be silenced by these people, Xaden," I tell him, keeping my head held high.
"You don't need to antagonise them either," He breathes, before reaching for his ear piece. "Flower has entered the building," he murmurs. No doubt it's either Liam or Garrick on the other end.
His hand remains on my back as he leads me to my seat, knowing exactly where it is because he and his team had scoped out the building this morning during their second security sweep. When I take my seat, gently smoothing out the black pantsuit I'm wearing, he settles in beside me, his large body shielding me from the aisle.
It's comforting, his presence.
I hadn't felt that way at first. When my mother had first assigned him to me, I'd hated him—him and his team. I hadn't wanted to be followed around every waking hour by a bunch of men who barely let me sneeze without making a fuss. I'd tried everything I could to get out of it, to find some way to exist as a normal young woman, but unfortunately there is no normal when your mother is the President of the United States.
"Your speech is first after the opening remarks," Xaden states, as if I don't know my own schedule. "We're leaving immediately after you finish speaking."
I open my mouth to protest and he gives me a hard look. "You have a flight to catch."
"It's my helo!" I hiss. "It will be there whenever I'm ready."
His eyes harden. "And you'll be ready when I say you are." His tone is final. "Your mother put me in charge of you. You know better than to argue."
I swallow hard. I've learned very recently why I shouldn't argue with him, and it has nothing to do with my mother, or his position as my head of security.
"Xaden, it will look bad. I'm not leaving until the event is done," I whisper, reaching for his hand. I shouldn't be doing it—touching him—not at an event like this where there are cameras everywhere, where someone might see...but I do it anyway. "I won't allow these people to scare me."
He looks at me with narrowed, frustrated eyes. "I'm trying to keep you safe."
"Well you have to let me live, too." My decision is final and I'd say he knows it, given the way his mouth curls down in a scowl. One hand rests inside his jacket, no doubt on his gun, and he lifts the other to his ear.
"Plan B," he tells the rest of his team. There's a pause, then, "Yes, she's being stubborn." My lips curve and I tilt my head down to hide my smile. Nowhere in the world is safer for me than next to Xaden Riorson and with the rest of his team backing him up, I'm sure I don't have anything to worry about.
"Do you remember what I told you in the car?" he asks, dipping his head to murmur in my ear. "First exit is to your left by the stairs. Second is on your right, halfway back. Third—"
"I remember, Xaden," I reassure him, laying my hand on his arm. "I memorised the map, just like you told me to."
He's not like other bodyguards I've had in the past. Xaden prefers a hands-on approach. He wants me to be just as involved as his team, and just as capable of defending myself. We spar every second morning in the private gym, with the promise that he'll stop drilling me when I can escape his grasp on the mat.
Honestly, I don't think it will ever stop. I think he wants me to be deadly.
"What's your code for if you need to leave?" he prompts, and I splay my fingers out, folding them down in the air one-by-one. "Good."
I highly doubt anything will go so wrong that I'll need him to interject in the middle of my speech, but I indulge him anyway. "Don't worry, Xaden. I've got this."
His eyes soften and I wonder if we were at home, alone in my bedroom, would he be cupping my cheek right now? Leaning in to kiss me? It's difficult to say.
We're not together, him and I. We're not…not together, either. He was utterly resistant the first year he'd been assigned to me, keeping his hands to himself, never once accepting my advances, until about a couple of months ago when he finally, finally caved.
That day…I smile at the memory, closing my eyes. He'd taken me apart piece-by-piece, finally letting me have him, and it had been euphoric. We've only had a few nights alone together since, the job being what it is, and it's barely been enough to scratch the surface with him. There's so much hiding beneath that cold exterior to unravel, and I've only just begun.
One thing's for sure though—he likes to be in charge. It's why I find such great pleasure in these little wins, in the small moments outside my apartment where I'm the one who gets to call the shots and he has to bend to accommodate me.
I straighten in my seat, eyes gliding back to the stage as a woman in grey begins the opening address, calling this meeting of the United Nations General Assembly to order. I keep my eyes on the speaker, a congenial smile on my face, knowing there are multiple cameras in the room pointed at me.
"To give our first address, I'd like to welcome scholar and activist, Violet Sorrengail." I stand to the sound of polite applause, a smile on my lips at the fact that here, in this room, I'm a scholar and activist, not the daughter of the current president of the United States. While everyone obviously knows who I am—most of them being foreign dignitaries—it's nice for once to be recognised for my own accomplishments.
I stride for the stage on careful feet with my notes clutched loosely in my hand. I learned early on to never trust teleprompters—it's hard to match your speed to them when giving a speech that requires feeling.
I easily ascend the few stairs to the podium, given I'm wearing leather boots rather than heels. Easier to run in, Xaden says, and fight if I have to. Personally I just enjoy the fact that he doesn't think I need to look taller, especially given our height difference. Walking around giving speeches when you're five-foot-nothing and not putting heels on feels a little like a power play at this point.
Taking my place at the front of the room, I look out at the international delegation and clear my throat. "Thirty years ago at the Beijing Conference on Women, each of our nations gathered and came to an agreement that would change the world. This was of course, before my time."
A smattering of laughter. I wasn't even born then, when they'd met and declared women's rights, human rights. For a while we'd made such progress, but now…I see things taking a dark turn. A turn I don't like.
"They promised a better life for girls and women around the globe," I speak clearly. "Human rights. Dignity. Equality. Today, girls are far more likely to finish school than at any other moment in history. Maternal deaths have nearly halved, and the number of women in parliaments has more than doubled."
I draw a breath and pause, looking down at my notes. I should read what I've prepared. What all my advisors and speech-writers agreed upon before I'd even set foot in New York City today, but…
"These victories were hard-won. Women—and men," I smile, "fought for this around the globe…but it isn't enough."
The silence turns uneasy. It's not what they expected me to say.
"Many women still suffer. Some in areas of deadly conflict, some from extreme poverty and hunger, some…in this very country in which we stand."
My eyes find Xaden's in the crowd, cold as ice, and I can read the message he's sending me loud and clear: don't do it. My shoulders rise and fall with the force of my breathing, anxious but determined.
"The very systems built to advance and fund gender equality are being hollowed out—quietly, but deliberately. This is not just regression. It is retreat and it is on purpose. Every step we fought for—that women before me, fought for—is at threat of being erased."
I hold my head high and look into the crowd, meeting as many eyes as possible. "I ask of each and every one of you, to match your words today with courage tomorrow—in the policies you pass, in the budgets you allocate, and in the change you—we—drive together, with and for women."
"Those who would oppose us are loud. In this week alone, I've received more threats than I can count—to my personal safety and that of my family and friends. Those who would push our progress back, threaten to kill me. Their threat is very real, but I like to think I embody the same courage I ask of you."
I stare into the crowd, lowering my mouth to the microphone.
"I will not be silenced." A wave of noise spreads throughout the building, overwhelmingly positive in tone as my voice picks up speed and volume. "I will not go quietly when the rights of women and girls like me are being threatened. Do not surrender to those who would turn us back. Let history remember this as the year we stood our ground—for peace, for equal rights, for prosperity for women, and all of humanity."
I step back from the podium, crumpling my intended speech in my hand.
"Thank you."
As one, those before me rise to their feet and begin a raucous standing ovation. Swallowing hard, I bow my head and head for the stairs as slowly and as dignified as possible, even though all I want to do is run. I'm exceptionally glad when I'm back at my seat, dwarfed by Xaden's large form, his hand slipping over to clasp my thigh beneath the desk.
"I'm furious with you, you know that?" he murmurs quietly in my ear. I knew he would be, he's warned me countless times not to make myself a target. "I'm also very proud."
I freeze, tilting my head up to meet his gaze. "Really?" My eyes are wet.
"Really."
I settle into his side, basking in the warmth and safety he radiates just by being there. The day is long and I know he'd prefer if I left the session early, but I'm stalwart in my decision—it would look terrible if I left, especially after that.
When the time finally comes to step out into the sun, hours have passed. I have a new message on my phone from my friend Rhiannon congratulating me on a job well done—the meeting and my speech was broadcast live. I'm sure there are probably news articles up about it already, or god forbid, TikToks.
"You know the threats are going to be even worse now," Xaden laments, leaning into my side as we wait for the rest of the team to settle into their positions. "You've made yourself the centrepiece of this new feminist movement."
"I know," I nod, lifting my chin. I wouldn't change a thing. "It needed to be said." I have opinions and I'm going to share them, whether he likes it or not. Intellectually, I know he's just trying to keep me safe—it's his job, after all—but there remains a part of me that's bothered by it, the little girl inside me who was always told what to do, what to say, and what to wear.
I'd rebelled hard against every security team I'd had before his, and for good reason. I'd wanted a life—a real one—and they'd been reluctant to give it to me. Protective as he is, Xaden walks at my side. He knows when I say I'm doing something, I'm doing it, and he can either help me do it safely or get the hell out of the way.
"Flower is prepared to exit the building. Exit three," he says into his comm.
"You can just call me by my name, you know," I tell him—a comfortable, age-old argument between us.
"You can just do what you're told, you know," he replies, without so much as glancing down. There's a displacement of air as Liam appears beside me, silent as ever on his feet.
"We both know you like it."
Liam coughs quietly, covering his mouth with his hand to hide the laughter that threatens to escape.
"I know you're already in trouble," Xaden smiles, an edge in his voice. "Don't make it worse."
I bite my lip, staring up at him with doe eyes.
"He's not wrong," Liam sighs. "You're already headline news and there are…substantial crowds outside."
"As expected." I shrug. It's a United Nations General Assembly meeting, there are numerous world leaders here—we'd assumed already that there would be a large crowd of photographers and other media personnel outside. We just figured they'd be there for other people and not me.
"Which is why I wanted to leave two hours ago," Xaden bites out, leading the way to the door. Liam takes up the rear, keeping me between them and for a while it's a wall of black. I resist the urge to reach for Xaden's hand. As much as I want to, he's working…and he's not my boyfriend.
When we step out into the sunlight there are camera flashes and voices everywhere. I doubt they can even see me, hidden between the security team as I am—Garrick arriving to flank my other side—but that doesn't matter, they know well what Xaden looks like and they know he's always with me.
"Violet! Violet!"
"Ms. Sorrengail can you—"
"How do you think the public will react to—"
"Do you think it's wise to inflame public tensions—"
"If you're for gender equality, whey don't you ever talk about men's issues?"
I stop dead in my tracks, causing Liam to bump into me from behind, swearing under his breath. "No, Violence," Xaden says sternly, not even turning around.
"Why don't men ever talk about men's issues?" I fire back, sliding between them to get to the barrier. "The vast majority of men only ever talk about men's issues when they're trying to deflect from gender equality or silence women's issues."
"Do you think statements like yours will inflame public tensions—"
"It shouldn't, but I'm sure it will," I shrug my shoulder. "There are probably podcasters working on an episode about it right now. Doesn't change the facts."
"And the facts are?"
"Only twenty-five percent of leadership positions around the globe are filled by women," I answer promptly.
"So you think D-E-I is the answer?"
My heart thunders in my chest as I try to control my temper, looking for the reporter who asked the question. The constant flashing bulbs of their cameras are starting to impede my vision.
"You tell me—data shows countries with higher female representation in government are more prosperous." I paste on a saccharine smile. "We're quite good at this, given the opportunity."
"Do you hate men, Ms. Sorrengail?"
"Not at all. I'm surrounded by exceptional men every day." And one of them in particular is going to have my hide for this when we get home.
In and out. No stopping for questions out in the open. Straight to the car—no arguments.
Oops.
"So you wouldn't choose the bear?"
As if I'd ever be allowed to go hiking alone. Hilarious. "I'd obviously—" There's a commotion behind me and in what feels like a fraction of a second the world explodes. Liam stumbles on his feet, dragged to the side and between one blink and the next there's a man in front of me, his smile vicious as he drives a knife toward my heart.
Screams ring out and I react on instinct, dodging to the side, bringing my hand up to grip his arm just like Xaden taught me, redirecting it. It still manages to graze my side, and I let out a pained cry as a sharp, burning sensation flares along my ribs.
Pushing the pain from my mind, I shove the arm downward, spinning to jab my elbow into the assailant's kidneys. With my hands still wrapped around their arm, I throw myself to the ground, dragging them down with me.
My knee is in their gut and I've wrestled the knife free from their hand by the time Xaden returns to my side and it's then I realise that people are screaming. Everyone is screaming.
"I've got him, Violence," Xaden says, closing his hand over mine—the hand that's holding a large, serrated knife to a masked man's throat. "Let go."
My body trembles with tension and it takes a moment for it to do as I ask, my fingers finally uncurling around the hilt of the blade.
"Liam, take her!" he calls and I stumble to my feet, breathing hard.
"I'm fine. I want—"
"Go," Xaden commands, his voice brokering no argument. Blinking, I stare at the scene surrounding us. There are people everywhere—security for various dignitaries scrambling to secure the area, multiple assailants sprawled across the ground, and media still behind the barriers filming it all, because they clearly have no regard for personal safety.
"Flower is en-route," Liam mutters, grasping my arm and dragging me across the concrete. I turn my head, my eyes searching for Xaden's, but he and Garrick are occupied securing the attackers. I'm not concerned for his safety—Xaden can handle himself—but I don't like being without him. We've developed an almost unhealthy codependency over the last year and I'm not sure my body will stop flooding with adrenaline until I'm by his side.
Liam pulls me into a black SUV, shutting the door behind us. "Flower is secure."
The next hour is a blur.
I'm wracked with adrenaline and anxiety as I'm driven from the city to the airfield and bundled into the helo. We wait barely five minutes before the rest of the security team joins us, including Xaden, and I'm not the slightest bit embarrassed to reach for his hand as the chopper takes to the air.
"I want to know who they are and how they got past the outer perimeter!" he's yelling into his comm. "I don't care, drag them there if you have to." His fingers tighten around mine and I squeeze back. "Someone inform the President before the media does it for us."
I close my eyes, trying to relax back against the seat as the noise level begins to get overwhelming, a headache forming behind my eyes. Everyone is talking—to each other, to air traffic control, to the security team still on the ground—and it's all a little too much. My side burns angrily, my shirt sticking to my skin, wet with blood.
Xaden leans down for a fraction of a second, brushing his cheek along my hair. "Are you ok?" I know it's the most he'll allow himself, the barest of affections while we're outside the bedroom and he's still fully engulfed in the job.
I swallow, meeting his eyes. "Is this a bad time to admit I got stabbed?"
His eyes widen. "You what?!" His hands are on me in an instant, pulling my blazer back to search for a wound. It's difficult to see inside the helo—every layer of my clothing is black, dark enough to conceal the sticky patch of blood coating my side, but his hand does eventually skim the correct spot and I hiss as it comes away red.
"Fuck. Flower is W-I-A, divert to Keller."
"Absolutely not." I reach for Liam's comms, knowing I'll never get my hands on Xaden's. "Belay that. Flower is N-S-I." I am not wounded in action. There was no action, it was just a tiny incident.
Xaden bats my hand away from Liam, engulfing it in his own. "Someone just tried to assassinate you. You've been stabbed, we're going to Keller."
I glare up at him, standing my ground. "No, I'm not. It's barely a scratch. I want to go home. Liam can patch me up there." Liam was a medic, just like my older brother Brennan, back when he was deployed with Xaden's unit. He's more than capable of dealing with this.
I tug the bottom of my blouse from my pants, pulling it up to bare my rib cage, uncaring of the other men in the transport. "It's fine, see? I'm not bleeding out. It might not even need stitches." Whoever he was, he'd barely managed to strike me. A bandage and a few Tylenol, and I'll be right as rain.
I look up at Xaden seriously. "I don't need to be medevac'd, I just want to go home." If it's really that bad, the White House has doctors on call anyway.
He grits his teeth. "It's against protocol."
"I know." I understand he's just trying to do his job and more than that, he's worried about me, but I really am ok. If I were going to bleed out, I would have done it already. "I promise if Liam says it's necessary, I'll go to Walter Reed."
The blond looks uncomfortable at having that decision placed on his shoulders, especially with the way his commanding officer is glowering, but he nods anyway.
I can hear both of their headsets crackling, the pilot turning around to look Xaden's way. The dark-haired man huffs, shaking his head. "Flower is refusing redirect to an MTF. Proceed on the original flight plan."
I breath a sigh of relief, leaning into his side. There are probably a lot more people in our military treatment facilities right now that need the care more than me.
Xaden ducks his head, peeling up my shirt again to take a quick look at the wound. He glances at Liam for confirmation and the blond leans in. "Hard to tell—I don't want to touch it without gloves!" he calls over the thump of the helicopter's blades. "I think it's fine, stitches at worst, but it could just need dressing!" In my mind I'm imagining little butterfly bandages.
The flight back to DC goes relatively quickly given the circumstances and I get barely a chance to see grass nor sky as I'm bundled inside the house. I try to smile at any of the staff we pass on our way to my rooms, because the last thing I need is anyone thinking I'm rattled. I am rattled—extremely so—but I don't want anyone else to know that.
"I left Garrick to deal with the situation in New York," Xaden murmurs as Imogen falls into step with us, the pink-haired woman being the only one of his team left behind today. "I want to know who these people are, what they were trying to do, and why—and I want to know it yesterday."
Imogen's brows rise. "I mean, I think it's pretty obvious what their end-goal was." She glances around him to smirk at me. "Nice job getting him on the ground, Sorrengail. I guess all that extra strength training's been beneficial." God, I'm never going to live this down, am I? They're all going to use it as an excuse to make me train even harder. Forever.
"Just doing my…" I frown. "Was it all captured on camera?"
Imogen grins. "Every last second."
Great.
I sigh, allowing them all to traipse into my apartment, Imogen closing the door behind her. Xaden passes me over to Liam, bending his head to speak quietly with her and I close my eyes, shrugging my blazer off. I hope the laundry staff can save it—it's one of my favourites. When I peel my shirt away too, Xaden makes a soft sound in the back of his throat.
"I highly doubt Liam or Imogen care about seeing me in my bra," I ward off any protests, heading gingerly into the bathroom.
Liam pulls out the almost industrial-size first-aid kit from below the counter and starts slowly and methodically cleaning away the blood. "I think it will be fine," he says after a few moments. "I might put in a few liquid stitches, just to make sure it holds itself together. Let me disinfect it."
The disinfection is the worst part, it stings more than the actual wound had. Xaden wanders in and out of the room more than once to look me over, his phone attached to his ear, and I wave him off, leaning back against the tiles as Liam works. The wound is just beneath the line of my bra and I'm thankful at least that it's not any deeper.
"I'm sorry he managed to get you at all," Liam says quietly as he secures a waterproof dressing over the top. "I should have stopped him from getting close."
I narrow my eyes at him. "You had one of your own to deal with," I tell him sternly, "and Xaden had two. I handled myself just fine." And I know Xaden's going to eviscerate anyone who was involved in the outer perimeter because they should never have gotten close. They surely had press-passes and therefore no prior history of violence, but even then…
"There," Liam says, rising to his feet. "That should be fine now, but if it starts to feel hot or painful in any way, I want you to—"
"Head over to Walter Reed," I finish. "I know."
"Good."
When he and Imogen take their leave, I finally feel like I can breathe, just a little. I'm shaking as I begin to peel off my clothes, turning on the shower. The water runs red, over my feet and down the drain, and the image does nothing to settle me. I scrub at my skin until every remnant of the attack is gone, and when I step out of the spray, Xaden's waiting.
His eyes trail over my body, searching for injuries as he holds out a towel in both hands. I step into it, allowing him to wrap me up, and I close my eyes as he begins gently drying me off. "I was worried about you," he says quietly, dragging the towel softly over my skin. "I need you to start being more careful," he says. "We should have gone straight for the car."
Indignation flares in my chest. "I'm not going to back down from saying what needs to be said!" I snap.
"I didn't ask you to," he replies evenly, "but there's a time and a place, Violence. If you have something to say, we set up an interview, somewhere that isn't out in the open."
"That isn't fair." I hate the way my voice cracks.
"I know." He dabs the towel carefully over the dressing and then drops to his knees, running it over my legs. When he stands, my breath hitches—he's brought my dressing gown from the bedroom. He bundles me into it, helping me slip my arms through the plush, pink garment and wraps the tie around my waist. The fuzzy robe reaches my feet. I probably look ridiculous, but it's nothing he hasn't seen before.
Silently he reaches up and begins removing the pins from my hair, scratching at my scalp with his fingernails as he shakes out my braid. My throat tightens and I lean in, pressing my cheek against his chest. I'm still shaking.
"Promise me you won't pull this shit again," he murmurs. "I can't have you throwing yourself into danger at every turn."
I scoff, indignant. "Why? Because you'd lose your job?" Why can't I stop trembling?
Xaden's jaw ticks. "No. I'm certain your mother knows exactly how much of a handful you are. It's why I'm here."
Well that stings.
"When we have a plan you need to stick to it. You could have died—"
"Don't worry, I'm sure you'd just get reassigned," I snap.
He blows out a sharp breath, turning on his heel. "Ok, that's enough." He stalks through the bedroom, picks up the plush rug in his fingers from the end of the bed and drags it over to my writing desk by the far wall, replacing the chair on top of it.
"I almost lost you today and right now, you don't seem to give a damn. It's clear to me that you just want to be argumentative." I open my mouth to protest, but at his furious look I quickly decide against it. "You did everything I asked you not to today and you know it, so you have two choices—I walk out that door and you don't see me again tonight or you can get on your knees."
I blink. "What?"
"You heard me." His onyx eyes are hard as stone and when I timidly step forward, he drags a hand through my hair again, trailing his fingers down to cup my jaw. "You were bad, but that doesn't mean I have to suffer."
My heart skips a beat. "W-what…" My mouth runs dry.
His thumb glides along my lower lip, pressing down lightly and I gasp, taking him in on reflex, the pad of his thumb a heavy weight against my tongue. "You haven't been able to resist making use of this gorgeous mouth all day, so why should I?"
My body is still trembling, but I'm starting to think the jittery sensation in my mind is worse. I'm not sure I'm in the mood for giving head right now—I'm not sure why he is—but there's a lot I don't understand about this dynamic between us yet and I don't want to screw it up. Maybe a distraction won't be so bad.
Slowly, holding his gaze, I sink to my knees, settling onto the cushioned rug.
"Verbal consent, Violence," he reminds me and I nod my head, whispering in the affirmative, though a part of me is still absolutely furious. I don't want him to leave, but neither do I think I should be getting punished and that's exactly what this feels like—a punishment.
"You're still trembling," he says quietly, squatting before me for a moment, just to pluck at my lip. "Are you scared?"
"No." Not of you.
"Good," he tilts his head to kiss me, just once. "Instead of a safe word, you can use our hand gesture if you need to," he tells me quietly. "And if you ever get scared, you use it immediately, the same as you would out there."
I swallow hard. I don't understand what's happening. Everything is moving so fast. I got stabbed today and now I'm kneeling on my bedroom floor to give my bodyguard a blowjob? What the fuck?
"Good girl," he whispers, running a hand through my hair as he rises to his feet again before taking a seat in my desk chair. "Come here," he murmurs, patting his thigh and I shuffle closer. "Do you know what we're doing?"
I frown. "You want to get off? Though I'm not sure why that's important to you right now. I guess because you're trying to punish me."
He chuckles, leaning forward to boot up his laptop. "No, love, at least not at first."
Then…what?
"You're going to kneel there and warm my cock."
I blink. "What?"
"I have work to do, so until I'm ready, you're going to take me in your mouth and wait. You're not going to use your tongue, you're not going to try and make me come, you're simply going to sit there and keep me warm."
What…people do this? A spark of pleasure zips down my spine despite my bewilderment.
"You like the feeling of my cock in you—you'll like it this way too," he assures me, which—how utterly presumptuous of him. "Unless you'd like me to go and work elsewhere?" He lifts a brow.
Asshole. The head of my security team is a complete and utter asshole. Why I'm attracted to him at all is a mystery, and yet…
"What do I get out of it?"
His stare is unimpressed. "Inner peace," he deadpans.
Right. Punishment. I clench my hands into fists, staring up at him darkly. My stomach is twisting at the injustice of it. I don't think I should be punished at all and this—this is degrading. But…I don't want him to leave. It feels like my mind is vibrating.
"Do you trust me, love?" he finally asks and I swallow hard, something raw passing between us. I wonder if he feels responsible for what happened today. He shouldn't, there was nothing he could have done, he took down two at the same time all on his own. Still, he seems almost…rattled. I almost lost you today.
"Yes," I whisper.
"Then be a good girl and open your mouth."
My stomach swoops, that low, buzzing pleasure racing through me again and I breathe out harshly, settling back on my folded legs, spreading my knees further apart for balance. He pulls his cock from his pants, stroking it only a few times until it's half-hard, and then threads his fingers through my hair.
"Flatten your tongue, love." I almost don't want to, but he's never called me that before today and it makes my heart swell in my chest. Carefully, I part my lips, making sure my teeth are out of the way.
His cock is magnificent. The first time we slept together he had to work hard to get it inside me, but when he did it was euphoric. It's not so much outrageously long—though it's definitely flirting with the back of my throat already and it's not all the way in—it's more the girth of him that I struggle with. That's what's going to make this so damned hard—having to swallow around his thick cock.
The weight of him is heavy on my tongue, my lips stretched wide and I struggle to find a way to be still that's comfortable. In the end, I turn my head and pillow my cheek on his thigh, narrowing my eyes in annoyance when I feel his gaze on me.
"I think you know what you did wrong, today." His fingernails scratch at my scalp. "Implying I'm only here for my job certainly didn't help your case."
I let a huff of air out through my nose in clear annoyance. He makes a soft noise when I swallow around him, his hand stilling in my hair at the movement of my tongue.
"Violet…" he warns and I sigh again, trying to relax back into place. I can feel his eyes on me as he trails a hand down over my tense jaw, his calloused fingers warm against my skin. "Relax your jaw or you're going to hurt yourself."
I glare up at him.
"If you're sore tomorrow, don't blame me."
Who the hell else would I blame? He's the one who has me on my knees with his cock stuffed down my throat! But…that's not entirely true, is it? I could get up and walk away right now—I could tap my hand against his thigh and he'd leave, no questions asked, but…my fingers tremble.
This is so degrading, the word floats back through my mind again. A matter of hours ago I was at the United Nations speaking to the General Assembly about women's rights and now here I am, kneeling on the floor in my fluffy bathrobe with a man's cock in my mouth. That's so far past the realm of congruent. My cheeks flush, burning what I'm sure is an impressive shade of pink.
"Stop thinking about what happened and start thinking about me," he orders. "Focus on the weight, the taste, on going as long as possible without moving your head. You're keeping me warm, not distracting me from my work."
It's the last thing he says to me before going back to his laptop and I realise he's serious—if I don't tap out, I'm here for the long haul. I roll my shoulders a little, trying to get comfortable. It's much harder than when he's inside me—then I only have to relax my spine and keep from clenching around him.
Here, my mouth fills with saliva prompting me to swallow often, and his length is heavy on my tongue. I've always liked having him in my mouth but that was for a purpose—to bring him to the edge and over it in as fast a time as possible. This is much more difficult…I guess that's the point.
Closing my eyes, I carefully rearrange my arms on his thighs so I can lean against him in a position that won't pull on my wound. "Good girl," he whispers, carding a hand through my hair and I spread my thighs a little wider, swallowing around him, but he only returns to his work.
I don't know how much time passes but I'm jolted back to reality by the sound of his phone ringing. Sucking in a sharp breath through my nose, I'm about to move away but he grasps the back of my head, holding me there. "Be good and stay quiet," he says gently, before picking up the call.
I'm frozen in place, utterly still despite the fact that it's a phone call—no one can see me.
"Talk to me." His fingers still tap at the computer keys every now and then as the person on the other end of the line speaks, and I swallow reflexively. He looses a shaky breath, drawing a finger down my jawline in warning. "Why?" he asks whoever is on the other end of the line and I contemplate doing something conniving, like sucking hard the next time he goes to speak, but I'm not interested in the fallout that would follow.
"Violet? Yes, she's here." I jolt at the sound of my name, lifting my chin a little to gaze up at him with wide eyes. "No, she's a little preoccupied." My cheeks flood with heat at the double meaning to his words and the softest of whimpers attempts to escape my throat. The sound is almost muffled, but by the way his lips curve, I know he caught it. "She's doing well," he says down the line and my embarrassed flush inches down my chest, past the collar of my gown.
"I'm certain she'll have a lot to say once her mouth isn't full." My eyes widen and I dig my fingernails into his thigh. I should get up. I should say something. I should— "Yeah, she's having dinner." The smirk on his lips is positively wicked. "Ok, thanks."
I'm certain my expression when he hangs up the phone is nothing less than mortified.
"Relax, love." He cards his fingers back through my hair again. "I didn't tell them you're on your knees, not that it's anything to be ashamed of." My chest rises and falls as I breathe through my nose. "You're being so good for me," he croons and I shift in place, closing my eyes again. "Just a little longer," he reassures.
I swallow hard, another soft sound getting caught in my throat and I'm forced to confront an undeniable truth—if I were wearing panties, they'd be soaked. As it is, I can feel how slick I've grown and I'm worried arousal will start dripping down my thighs.
"Come on, don't start now," he warns gently and I peer up at him with damp eyes. "You're ok. Just a little longer." Breathing in deep, I force myself to relax and close my eyes.
Time passes in a blur. I relax into it, feeling my shoulders loosen, tension leaving me as I slump forward onto his thighs.
I'm not sure when my breathing evens out, or when I become unaware of what's going on around me, but I come back to myself when he lets out a soft groan, his fingers tightening in my hair. It's then I realise that my mouth is moving—subconsciously I've been sucking on his cock.
I reel backward, releasing my grip on him completely while he chuckles. "Violet—Vi! Hey, come here," he murmurs, scooping me up into his arms in one smooth movement. It takes a few seconds for my heart to stop racing and when it does, I bury my face in his neck.
"Sorry," I whisper, feeling heat flush my cheeks once more.
"It's ok," he chuckles, turning his head to press a kiss to my temple. "How are you feeling?" he asks, running a hand through my hair. "Calmer?"
I was until right this second. "Am I supposed to be?" I ask, squirming. I'd almost fallen asleep—that hasn't happened during any of our sexual interactions before, especially those more…kink inclined. It doesn't seem right, but what do I know? I'm new to this sort of thing.
"Of course," he says softly, "that's the whole point."
I make a soft sound in the back of my throat. "No, you wanted to punish me."
He's silent, thinking about it for a second. "Maybe a small amount," he finally replies, "but it was mostly to calm you down. You were trembling. This gave you something to focus on—a way to be still."
I furrow my brow.
"Wasn't it a relief, once you sank into it?" he asks. "No decisions, no emotions, just me on your tongue?"
It was a relief. It felt almost meditative in nature, but now that I've come back to myself…my cheeks flush, and a pit forms in my stomach.
"It wasn't supposed to make you feel bad, Violet," he murmurs, stroking his hand over my hair. "If you don't feel good about anything we do, that's what your safe gesture is for."
"I don't feel bad," I tell him immediately. "It's just…"
"Just?" he prompts softly, coaxing me away from his neck until I'm forced to meet his eyes.
"It's degrading."
A complex series of emotions cross his face before finally he settles into a careful mask of neutrality. "Why is it? Do you feel like I was demeaning you?"
I open my mouth, then close it again. "No…" I whisper quietly, a small, anxious feeling twisting beneath my ribs.
"So who says it's degrading?" he combats. "It helped get you out of your head, which is what you needed. What happens between the two of us in private is our business and our business only. Only you get to decide if you've been degraded, Violet." He pauses, watching me seriously. "I've been on my knees for you before."
I frown. That's not the same. "That was for sexual purposes," I argue, and he'd clearly been the one in charge the entire time.
"So what?"
"So I shouldn't like that!" I whisper, my voice catching. "I'm not—I'm not the kind of woman who should enjoy being forced to her knees."
"Forced? Who forced you?" My lip trembles. I can't even say I was coerced. I made the choice. I was messed up at the time, but I made my own decision and if I'm honest with myself, maybe I did enjoy it, and that's confronting.
Xaden sighs, curling his arms around me. "Love, it's ok to wrestle with this. To be unsure about what you like, but don't be ashamed of it. It's supposed to calm you down and make you feel secure—and it did. You don't have to be embarrassed about it."
"You could have just held me," I whisper, my voice cracking.
I can feel his lips against my temple, curling up in a smile. "Your mind would still have been racing and you know it."
I dip my head, refusing to answer.
"Do you want to take me properly now, or go to sleep?" he asks carefully, pressing his lips to my skin.
I can feel the familiar heat of embarrassment again, creeping up my neck while I contemplate it. The feel of him, the taste, the weight of him against my tongue is burned into my brain. Slowly, I untangle my arms from his neck and slide from the chair.
"Good girl," he praises, brushing a strand of hair from my face as I lean in on my knees, parting my lips. There are consequences to this I know, ideas being set in stone as I take him in my mouth, but I push those thoughts to the side.
Making sure my teeth are covered, I slide my mouth over his shaft, swirling my tongue around the tip.
"Fuck," he mutters, gripping my head with both hands. I know he's feeling sensitive—he has to be from leaving it in my mouth so long and I set out with purpose to make him regret it. "God, Violet, you're so perfect for me," he moans. "Relax your mouth, beautiful."
I do as he asks, swallowing around him as he carefully thrusts upward into my throat. His pace is slow and steady as he tangles his fingers in my hair, using it to guide my mouth up and down on his cock.
I hollow my cheeks, making the best use of my tongue that I can, but it's clear he's setting the pace. He's going to control my movement and all I can do is relax and let him fuck me. "Taking it so well, Vi," he whispers.
It's only another minute before he's jerking beneath me, his hips straining as I moan around his cock, dragging my tongue over his fraenulum. Taking him deep down my throat, I swallow hard. He gasps my name, pulling my head to meet his pelvis as he comes, hips rocking rhythmically as he forces me to swallow every last drop.
When he pulls away I'm gasping for air, trying to beat back the pain in my overworked jaw. "God, Violet," he moans, throwing his hand over his face. He's breathing hard, his chest heaving when I crawl back into his lap, pleased with myself.
I lean in, brushing aside his hand to press my lips to his. I'm sure he can taste himself on my tongue. It's the least he deserves.
"Fuck," he mutters, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, stroking his tongue over mine. "Such a good girl," he whispers and I moan quietly, tilting my hips. "Why can't you be good all the time?" he asks, slipping a hand inside my robe.
"We're—back to that?" My breath hitches as he glides his hand down over my stomach.
"Always." He presses his lips to my throat and begins sucking a mark into my skin, slotting his hand between my thighs.
"Well—" I lose my train of thought entirely as he drags two fingers up through my folds, circling them over my clit. "Oh god!" My hips buck. He teases me slowly, playing with my clit like he has all the time in the world.
"So soft and pretty," he murmurs, mouthing at my ear. "Wet little thing."
I moan, arching into him as he slides one finger inside me. My cunt flutters around him and I rock my hips, desperate for more—for some kind of friction. "Xaden, please," I whisper.
He strokes over my g-spot, taking me apart slowly, but thoroughly. I'm so relaxed I don't even fight it. His thumb circles my clit methodically, his touch alternating between firm and featherlight, and it has me tipping my head back, begging for more.
"Please, Xaden," I gasp. "Please, I've been so good for you."
"You have," he confirms, kissing me softly. "Do you need to come, love?"
I gasp, rolling my hips against his hand as he slips a second finger in alongside the first. "Yes!" I can feel it coiling tight in my abdomen, the sensation almost overwhelming. My cunt clenches rhythmically around his fingers and as he rolls his thumb over my clit once more, I gasp, arching upward. "Please!" I beg, more than close.
All it takes is one more flick, his fingers curled up inside me, pressing in all the right places and I'm shattering, coming with a shout that anyone outside my apartment door will be able to hear. My vision darkens at the edges and I slam my eyes shut, a sob catching in my throat as pleasure roars through my nervous system.
My hips are bucking against his hand as he strokes me through it, dragging wet fingers carefully over my sensitive cunt. "Xaden," I gasp, gripping his shoulders tight. "Too much, it's too much." I let my head drop onto his shoulder, holding him tight as he slowly slides his hand free from my robe.
With absolutely no shame whatsoever, he lifts his fingers to my mouth, pressing them in gently. "It's only fair," he reasons, something wicked in his gaze. He holds his fingers over my tongue, watching me with careful eyes as I close my lips around them and suck.
"I don't see how it's fair," I murmur. "You haven't tasted me at all."
That notion doesn't last very long. Careful of my wound, he picks me up and deposits me on the bed, spreading my thighs apart to bury his face between them. I'm bucking against him before long, crying out in rapture as he wrings a second orgasm out of me, leaving me sweaty and exhausted, pleasure coursing through my veins.
After, he sheds his clothes and curls up beside me, letting me rest against his side, tangling our legs together. Without a thought, I bury my face in his throat, feeling safe and protected. "Hey, Xaden?" I venture, pressing my lips to his skin. "I love you."
He's unnervingly quiet.
"You don't have to say it back or anything," I tell him, feeling supremely vulnerable. "I just wanted you to know."
I take a deep breath. "You were right, earlier," I admit. "I felt grounded…before." I don't quite manage to say 'with your cock in my mouth'. "I shouldn't let the notion of what other people might think, ruin that."
Finally, he dips his head, pressing a gentle kiss to my cheek. "I'm glad," he whispers. "And for the record—I love you too, Violence. Why else would I get so angry when you put yourself in danger?"
"It's kind of your job," I deflect, my eyes watering. He loves me?
"Fuck the job! I—"
"You kind of do." I am the job.
There's a moment's pause and then we're laughing—his chuckle warming me from the inside out as he wraps his arms around me, enclosing me in the tightest bear hug possible without pulling on my wound.
He loves me, I love him, and we're both still here. I couldn't ask for a better note to end a terrible day on.
Eventually, he murmurs, "You kicked ass today, you know? I probably should have said it earlier, but I'm very proud of you."
My throat tightens. "Really?"
"Really," he confirms, dropping his lips to my forehead. "For the speech and the way you put that guy on his ass. If I weren't already, that would have made me fall wildly in love with you."
"…But you were, already?" I confirm, just to be sure.
His lips tilt. "Of course. You're mine, Violet Sorrengail. I love you infinitely. I'm never letting you go."
"She took down every reporter there with her words, then literally took down her own attacker. Not only is Violet Sorrengail right that women should be given equal opportunities alongside men—she's also a badass who doesn't need her security team to protect her. Honestly? I think I'm in love."
I turn away from the morning show, smiling smugly as Xaden hands me a plate of toast.
"Don't get used to it," he warns, folding his arms over his chest. "What happened yesterday is never going to happen again."
One look at his serious expression and I believe him. "So why are we about to work out?" I lift a brow, swirling my coffee in my hand.
"Because I said so," he replies, and just like that, it's business as usual.