Although I’d finally sated myself, I couldn’t stop touching her. My fingers traced the line of her sternum, catching drops of my seed to paint a warm line from her breasts to her navel.
The sight of her chest rising and falling in the aftermath of her own explosive orgasm filled me with a warm glow. A ghost of my triumphant grin twisted my lips, and I circled her navel, enjoying the way her belly quivered and danced beneath my fingers.
Her pretty dress was thoroughly destroyed, the bodice ripped all the way down to her abdomen. The fabric formed a frayed V shape that covered the feminine swell of soft flesh just above her panty line. That was the only part of her delicious body that remained covered; the hem of the dress was bunched up, leaving me a peek at the soaked white underwear I’d purchased for her. I hadn’t even touched her clit directly, and she’d exploded on an ecstatic scream.
I petted her cunt, relishing the small shudders that rolled through her as I stoked little aftershocks of pleasure.
I wasn’t sure how long I indulged myself in stroking her thoroughly ravaged body, loving her exquisite softness beneath my rough hands.
Eventually, the lustful fog started to clear, and I realized she was still bound by my belt.
Even when I shifted to free her from the tie, she remained dazed. I brushed my thumbs over the thick red rings around her wrists, drawing another delectable shiver from her.
Without thinking, I lifted them to my lips and kissed the marks. They would fade in a few hours, but I’d make sure to freshen them again before long. Marisol might hate me, but she’d opened her body to me, and there was no going back.
The last of my pleasant haze evaporated at the memory of her hatred. Despite the harsh twist of my lips and my grinding teeth, I continued to handle her carefully as I lifted her up in my arms.
Her eyes were still slightly glassy, and she melted against my chest.
I’d only taken three steps towards the house when her small hand cupped my cheek, her thumb tracing the line of my scowl. She lingered over my scar, and the unfamiliar sensation sent a strange ripple through my muscles. No one touched me with such tenderness, especially not on the scars that warned of my vicious nature. In the past, women had been drawn to my darkness, my savagery. But they didn’t caress the marks of violence that’d been etched into my skin.
An image of Marisol’s delicate hands tracing the scars on other parts of my body sent another shudder through my chest. It rolled down my arms, and I tightened my grip on her to counter the strange weakness.
“I don’t hate you,” she murmured, rubbing my scar.
The resultant tremor in my muscles persisted, and I realized she was keeping me trapped in a disconcertingly vulnerable headspace.
I jerked my head to the side, shaking off her traitorous touch. “Don’t lie to me.” My harsh rebuke was roughened by a twisting pain beneath my ribcage.
“I’m not lying.” She pressed her palm against my cheek.
Even though she was so frail in my arms, the gentle touch redirected my face to hers with irresistible force.
I glowered down into her doe eyes, resenting the fact that she was still trying to manipulate me. Even more, I hated the fact that I wanted to believe her.
“You tried to escape from me as soon as my back was turned. You betrayed me to Daniel and left me for dead. Give me one good reason why I should believe you.”
She flinched at the mention of her betrayal, her eyes tightening with something like anguish.
I knew I should’ve looked away. I should’ve shut her out before she could wheedle her way back into my mind.
But that resolute hand on my cheek kept me locked in her rich brown eyes; as warm and sweet as melted chocolate. And just as tempting.
“I didn’t try to leave because I hate you. I…I care about you.” Despite stumbling over her words, her steady stare willed me to believe her. “But it scares me that you’re so possessive. It frightens me that you won’t allow me to leave. I don’t want to be a prisoner anymore. I want to be free.”
Her voice shrank as she made each admission, ending on little more than a whisper. Her gaze turned inward, no longer focusing on my face.
My stomach twisted, and I cradled her closer to my chest.
This can’t be a deception. I don’t want it to be a lie.
I wanted her sweetness, her concern, her vulnerability.
She’s been hurt, I reminded myself.
I needed to understand the details of what she’d been through that’d traumatized her so deeply, but I didn’t need to know them for her reaction to make sense. I’d already come to the realization that she would need some time to settle with me, but when I’d seen her on my security feed, I’d lost my mind with rage.