Fallen 36

Fallen 36 Summary

Alaric struggles to control his overwhelming desire for Meadow after a passionate and intense encounter where he disciplined her with a belt. Despite the physical and emotional intensity between them, he forces himself to leave her alone, fearing he would lose control if he stayed. Meadow’s unexpected eagerness and pleas for punishment only fuel Alaric’s growing obsession and frustration.

 

Seeking an outlet for his pent-up emotions, Alaric retreats to the gym and violently pounds a punching bag, trying to channel his turmoil into physical exertion. However, Meadow’s voice and presence haunt his mind, intensifying his longing rather than easing it. He recognizes her cleverness in tempting him, knowing she wants his attention and touch more than anything else.

 

Unable to calm himself, Alaric moves to the shower, where his desire consumes him fully. The physical sensations, combined with vivid memories of Meadow, push him to the brink as he succumbs to his craving. His thoughts are filled with images of her submission and defiance, fueling a desperate need to claim her completely.

 

Even after his release, Alaric remains restless and obsessed, unable to shake the hunger that Meadow ignites within him. The intensity of his feelings suggests that nothing short of having her entirely will satisfy the deep longing that consumes him.

CHAPTER 0036

Alaric’s Perspective:

I had no choice but to leave her there.

Because if I hadn’t, I would have lost control and fucked her right then and there.

Meadow, bent over my desk, was the most intoxicating sight I’d ever laid eyes on. Her skin was flushed crimson from the belt’s sting, her body glistening with sweat and trembling beneath my touch. Just one more second in that room, and I would have driven into her so deeply she’d forget her own name.

I’d feared she might recoil at the thought of being whipped, but she shattered that expectation. Meadow was drenched—completely soaked. And with every strike I landed on that perfectly round, heated flesh, I knew she only grew more desperate, more aroused.

Then she begged me—pleaded for release—but I refused.

I stormed down the stairs, my mind still racing, and burst into the gym on the first floor. Without hesitation, I flipped on the lights and headed straight for the punching bag hanging by the mirrored wall. Gloves? I didn’t bother. Never had.

Pain wasn’t what I sought today.

I needed to feel something other than Meadow. This was my outlet.

I hammered my fists into the leather bag, over and over, the heavy bag swinging violently with each blow. The force was blunt, raw—and yet, I could feel it, the tension inside me easing just a little.

But it wasn’t enough.

Her voice echoed in my mind: “Punish me instead.”

I gritted my teeth and slammed my fist harder, making the metal chain creak under the strain.

She was too damn clever. Offering herself up like that, she knew exactly what she was doing. She knew I’d fall for it. That I’d rather punish her, touch her, than waste my energy hunting down that bastard.

And damn it, she was right. Because all I could think about now was her on that desk, trembling as she peeled down her panties, presenting herself to me with nothing but blind trust—and that stubborn little mouth.

I exhaled sharply and struck the bag again.

My condition rarely allowed me to experience pleasure. I had to be pushed to the edge to feel anything at all—that’s why I had the Tether room.

But with her, it was different. I didn’t have to struggle or push myself. Just one glimpse of her smile was enough to stir me.

And right now, I was rock hard. My cock hadn’t softened since I walked away from her, not even a little. If anything, it grew harder. I could still smell her scent lingering on my skin, feel the warmth of her body beneath my palm, taste the smoothness of her skin as if it were still there.

I stopped, breathing heavily, my pulse pounding in my neck. I swear I could still hear her moans.

Probably because she was upstairs, on my bed, legs spread wide, fingers trailing between her thighs—doing exactly what I told her.

Trying to make herself come.

Fuck.

I ran a hand through my hair, punched the bag twice more, then stormed into the shower room, unbuttoning my pants on the way.

I never lost control. Never.

My mother used to joke about my obsessive-compulsive tendencies, but it wasn’t that. At least, I didn’t think so.

But Meadow—she made me lose my damn mind.

The spray from the shower did nothing to calm me. And there was no way I’d go back to that room and lie beside her without satisfying this hunger.

So, bracing one arm against the cold, tiled wall, I let my other hand drift lower, gripping the base of my shaft.

The moment I touched it, my cock twitched, the metal bars of my Jacob’s ladder pressing against my palm as a foreign heat blossomed deep in my gut.

Meadow.

That mouth. Those wide, innocent eyes. That tight, perfect body.

The sound of her voice whispering my name without realizing the effect it had on me.

My grip tightened, a groan rumbling low in my chest as I rested my forehead against the cool tile, water cascading down my back.

I wanted her.

And this wasn’t the fleeting kind of desire that fades with time. It was the kind that built relentlessly, threatening to consume me from within. The kind that could never be satisfied with just one night’s pleasure.

That’s why I needed her here. Mine. Only mine.

Slowly, I slid my hand up my shaft, my thumb brushing over the sensitive underside where the metal ran beneath my skin, from base to nearly the tip.

My hips shifted involuntarily. Fuck.

I moved my hand up and down, gripping tighter as I pictured the way she looked at me when she asked to be punished. The way her trembling fingers peeled her panties down her thighs, teasing me.

Her defiance turned me on, but her obedience? It made me lose my mind.

I stroked harder now, rougher, slamming my other hand against the wall as images flooded my mind—Meadow writhing beneath me, her back arching as I fucked her hard and deep, her tight pussy gripping me like a vice.

“Fuck, Meadow…” The name slipped from my lips like a curse as I dragged my hand over the head of my cock, teeth clenched as I groaned.

The metal bars beneath my skin made every sensation sharper, more intense. Rolling my palm over the tip again, I imagined her soft mouth wrapped around me—the mouth that never listened.

I’d force her to listen. Shove my cock between those lips until she choked, tears streaming down her cheeks, whimpering.

And I’d praise her for taking me so well, so deep. Hold her face, look into her eyes, and make her understand exactly what she was doing to me. Make her know she belonged to me.

My pace quickened as my balls tightened, breath ragged, hips thrusting into my fist like I was inside her, stretching her virgin pussy open, making her scream my name in that smoky, seductive voice.

She’d beg, “Please, Alaric,” and I would give her everything she wanted because she asked so damn nicely.

My head spun.

I could hear her begging me to let her come, feel her clenching around me, smell the soft vanilla scent of her skin.

And then—

Fuck.

My jaw locked as I came, hips jerking, hot spurts splattering the tile. My muscles tensed as I groaned her name over and over through clenched teeth.

“Meadow… fuck. My doe.”

Minutes passed, but I remained under the water, panting, head bowed, chest heaving.

Still hard. Still furious. Still utterly obsessed with her.

The ache didn’t fade; it only intensified.

This wasn’t enough.

Nothing ever would be.