Unbroken Legacy

CHAPTER 5: ONLY YOU

Breakfast had stretched long and lazy, laughter bouncing off the rafters until the sun hung high and bright over the clubhouse yard. Plates were cleared, mugs refilled, and still I stayed curled on Ward’s lap, warm and safe, until a soft yawn escaped me and I leaned heavier against his chest. The sounds of the clubhouse were a comforting murmur, a symphony of peace that had replaced the constant tension of our past lives.

“Tired?” Ward murmured, his lips brushing my temple, his hand slipping just a little higher under the hem of my shirt. “Ready to go somewhere quiet… where I can touch you properly? Where no one’s watching?” His arm remained a solid anchor around my waist, his thumb tracing slow circles on my hip through the soft fabric, inching closer every time.

“Just ready to be somewhere quiet,” I whispered back, burying my face in his chest, breathing in his familiar, grounding scent. The freedom we’d fought so hard for was still a new, heady sensation, and sometimes, the quiet moments felt the most profound.

He didn’t hesitate. One arm slid firm under my knees, the other curled tight around my back, and he stood in one smooth movement, lifting me right off my feet. I looped my arms around his neck, the hem of his t-shirt falling just enough to make me tug it down self-consciously, but Ward just held me closer, his grip firm and possessive, his voice low and rough in my ear. “Don’t hide it. I want everyone to see. Want them to know you’re mine—all warm, all soft, all mine to take upstairs.”

“Right then,” he called out to the table, his voice carrying through the hall with a playful confidence. “I’m stealing her back. You’ve all had long enough to interrogate her and witness my questionable table manners.” And then, quieter, only for me: “And now I’m gonna eat you instead. The real meal.”

A roar of cheers went up instantly. Drake banged his fist on the table, whooping loud enough to make the windows rattle. Mel waved, laughing so hard she had to lean on Drake’s shoulder. Nate clapped his hands and whistled, his eyes crinkling with amusement. Isabella cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled, “Don’t break her, Ward! She’s fragile!” Duncan, his expression one of pure paternal pride, shook his head with a smile and gave a small, knowing nod, a silent blessing on our newfound peace.

Ward just laughed, the sound rich and deep as he carried me easily toward the stairs, the sound of their teasing and well-wishes following us all the way up. “Fragile?” he muttered against my hair, kicking the door open. “She has no idea how far I’m gonna push you. How loud I’m gonna make you scream. You’re anything but fragile, sunshine.” The cheers echoed in my ears, not as a demand or a threat, but as a celebration of belonging.

Once we were inside his room, he kicked the door shut behind him with his boot, and the lock clicked softly. The moment the latch caught, the air between us shifted—warm, hungry, entirely ours. All the pleasantries, all the playful teasing from downstairs, evaporated, replaced by a potent, undeniable tension. He didn’t set me down. Instead he walked straight to the bed and sat on the edge, keeping me right where I was, straddling his lap.

His hands were everywhere at once, a delicious exploration. They slid up my thighs, gripping my waist, tangling in the back of my hair as he tilted my head back to look at him. His eyes were dark, alight with a raw hunger that mirrored my own. He swept his gaze over me, lingering on the curve of my legs, the way my body fit against his, the way his t-shirt draped over me. “Look at you. Nothing but my shirt on, no underwear, wet and warm right where I wanna touch. Every time you leaned forward this morning I could see everything. Drove me absolutely f*****g crazy.”

“You have no idea what you look like,” he said, his voice rough and low, the words a gravelly caress against my skin. “Sitting there in nothing but my shirt, leaning into me like that… you’ve been driving me crazy all morning. Such a little tease. Knew exactly what you were doing, making me hard while everyone ate breakfast.”

“I wasn’t teasing,” I said, though my voice was breathless as his fingers brushed the bare skin at my thigh, tracing the curve of my hip, slipping just under the fabric. “I was just… comfortable.”

“Comfortable?” He huffed a soft laugh, the sound vibrating through my body, his hand sliding higher, cupping me firm through nothing but air. “You paraded around in this—all soft and warm, no panties, dripping for me before we even got upstairs—and you think I wouldn’t notice? Think I wouldn’t lose my mind watching you squirm on my lap? Every time you moved I could feel how wet you were. You weren’t comfortable. You were needy. Needy for my fingers, for my mouth, for my c**k deep inside you.”

He leaned in then, his lips finding the sensitive skin of my neck, his breath hot against my pulse point. “Think I wouldn’t lose my mind just watching you?” He tugged the hem of the shirt up just enough to reveal my hips, his thumbs pressing firm into my skin, drawing a shiver from me. “Every time you shifted on my lap, every time you leaned forward to feed me… all I could think about was dragging you right back here. About how good you look in my things. How good you’d look with nothing on at all. Spread out on this bed, all mine, waiting for me to fill you up.”

My hands tightened in his hair, pulling his face up to mine. The hunger in his eyes was intoxicating, a mirror of my own. “Then stop talking and show me,” I whispered, my own voice thick with desire. “I’m ready. I’ve been ready all morning.”

He kissed me then, a deep, claiming kiss that left no room for doubt, no space for anything but him—his tongue sweeping into my mouth, tasting me, claiming me like he owned every part. His arms slid tighter around my waist, pulling me flush against him, his body hard and ready, throbbing thick beneath his jeans right where I needed him most. “Oh, I’m gonna show you. Gonna show you exactly what you did to me. Gonna make you come so hard you forget your own name. Over and over again until you can’t take it anymore.” There was no rush, no hurry—just the certainty that we had all the time in the world, and every single moment of it was ours. The cheers from downstairs faded into a distant memory, replaced by the pounding of our hearts, the rasp of our breaths, and the unspoken promise of a night that was only just beginning.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes burning into mine, his hands gripping my hips hard enough to leave marks. “You’re mine, Casey. All of you. Every inch, every scar, every tight, wet, greedy part. And I’m not letting go. Not for a second. Not ever.”

“Never,” I breathed, the word a vow. “Only you. All of me. Take it.”

He smiled, a slow, wicked curve of his lips, and then he was lowering me back onto the mattress, his mouth never leaving mine, his hands already busy exploring every inch of me, eager to shed the last barrier between us. The t-shirt, which had felt like a comforting shield, became a hindrance, and with a swift, practiced movement, he pulled it over my head, tossing it aside, his gaze raking over every inch of me like he was starving. “There she is. f*****g perfect. Every curve, every mark, all mine to see, all mine to touch, all mine to worship. Gonna memorise every inch of this body until I know it better than my own.”

Now, with nothing between us but the air, he finally had the freedom to truly explore. His hands, rough yet surprisingly gentle, traced every curve, every scar, every inch of my skin—lingering, squeezing, claiming. He kissed me with a renewed intensity, his mouth hot and demanding, his tongue dueling with mine, his hand drifting lower, fingers sliding through my wetness like they belonged there. “So soft. So warm. And so f*****g wet already for me. Just from my hands on you? Just from me looking at you? That’s my good girl.”

“You feel so good,” he murmured against my lips, his fingers finding the sensitive skin of my inner thighs, teasing close but not quite touching where I ached most. “So soft, so ready for me. So tight and hot and throbbing just waiting for me. Tell me how bad you need it. Beg for it, sunshine. I wanna hear you say it.”

He lowered himself, his body pressing against mine, a perfect fit, his knee shoving between my legs to spread me wide. “I wanted to wait,” he admitted, his voice a low growl against my ear, his hand finally slipping down to stroke me slow and firm. “Wanted to savor this. But you… you’re a tease, sunshine. Making me wait all morning, and then looking at me like that… walking around with nothing on under my shirt, practically begging me to drag you to bed. I can’t wait anymore. I need to be inside you right now. Need to fill this perfect little p***y up until you can’t feel anything but me.”

He kissed his way down my body, his mouth leaving a trail of fire—sucking, biting, claiming every inch. When his lips found the sensitive skin of my stomach, I gasped, arching into him. He seemed to savor every sound I made, every shudder that ran through my body, his hands gripping my hips to hold me still. “Taste so good here too. Sweet and warm and mine. Every mark I leave here is mine. Every sound you make is mine.” He continued his descent, his kisses growing bolder, his tongue teasing and tormenting until I was begging him to stop, to continue, to take me. “So greedy. You want my tongue? My fingers? My c**k? All of it? Gonna give you everything. Every last bit.”

He finally reached his destination, and with a groan, he began to explore me with his mouth, his tongue tracing patterns that sent jolts of pure pleasure through me, sucking hard and slow like he was starving for it. I cried out, my fingers tangling in his hair, urging him on, my hips lifting off the bed to meet him. “That’s it—ride my face. Take what you need. Come on my tongue, baby. Taste yourself on my lips. Show me how wild I make you.”

“Ward… please…”

He looked up, his eyes dark and burning with shared desire, his jaw glistening with me. “All of you,” he rasped. “I want all of you. Just you. Every drop, every scream, every part of you falling apart for me. I’m not stopping until you’re shaking and begging and completely mine.”

He returned his attention to me, his ministrations becoming more urgent, more demanding—fingers sliding deep, tongue working me fast and hard until I shattered, crying out his name, my whole body locking up. “That’s it—come for me. Fall apart. Let me have it all. So f*****g beautiful when you come undone.” When he finally joined me on the bed, pushing into me with a slow, deep thrust, I cried out his name, my legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him even closer, every inch filling me so perfectly it felt like he belonged there. “That’s it… take all of me. Stretch for me. So tight around my c**k—like you were made exactly for this. Made to be filled by me.”

“So tight,” he groaned, his forehead resting against mine, his hips starting to move slow then faster, deeper, harder, hitting that perfect spot every single time. “So perfect. Like you were made for me. Made to take every inch, every drop, every thrust. Gonna make you come again and again until you’re drunk on my c**k. Until you know, deep down in your bones, exactly who you belong to.”

We moved together, a rhythm born of shared longing and newfound freedom. The hours blurred, marked only by the changing angles of the sunlight, the deepening of our pleasure, and the quiet sounds of our lovemaking—whispers of mine and always and so good, tangled with moans and gasps and every quiet, hungry thing we said. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word was a testament to the journey we had taken, and the peace we had finally found.