He sipped at the tears on her left cheek, tasting them, removing them one by one. He took his time, savoring the taste. There was a hint of salt, as if she’d been swimming in the sea, his little naked mermaid. He kissed her face after each tear until he got to her eye, and then he removed the tears from her lashes before switching to her right side.
“Baby, put your arms around me,” he coached gently and licked at her tears, removing them as they slipped down her face.
It took a moment before she complied, her arms sliding around his neck.
“Why are you crying?”
“It hurt. I didn’t think it would really hurt like that.”
“Did it really hurt?” He kissed the corner of her mouth and then her throat. He slipped lower down her body so that his mouth was over the temptation of her breasts. His hips were wedged between her legs, keeping them spread apart for him. He cupped her mound and then dipped his thumb inside her. “Your sweet little pussy is telling me you felt good, not bad, baby. I think you liked what I did to you.”
He nuzzled the side of her breast with the bristles on his jaw and then pulled her nipple into the heat of his mouth. She was perfect. Responsive. Gasping, arching into him, her hips bucking. He sucked and used his tongue to tease and stroke, and then he bit down, just a flash of pain, but his thumb stroked that sweet spot in her pussy, sending more powerful ripples through her body.
He kissed her again, over and over, worshipping her mouth, pouring flames down her throat to spread through her body. All the while his hands were at her luscious tits, feasting greedily the way his mouth was at her lips. He tugged and rolled, pinched and stroked. Gentle, then aggressive, back to gentle, and then harsh, then back up to claim every inch of her face. Her mouth. Her throat. Her neck. His mouth swept down her collarbone, his tongue seeking that elusive wild strawberry taste.
She kissed him, her hands sliding down his back, exploring, so receptive, her soft skin taking his every mark, from his mouth, his teeth, his hands, so beautiful he could barely breathe. Her moans sent those golden notes dancing in the air all around them. Her body just melted under his, radiating heat, surrounding them with the sultry scent of sex and her fragrance.
He kissed his way over her tits again and down her belly, nipping, his teeth leaving marks, his tongue soothing every ache, and then he closed his eyes and forced himself to regain control. He was breathing too deep. He was far too lost in her. He couldn’t make mistakes and trigger any kind of aggression in himself.
For a moment he pressed his forehead against her mound, those gold-and-platinum curls that had to go. They were so sweet. They even looked and felt innocent, like her. He didn’t want them gone, but they could be a trigger—he had so many—and there was no use in taking chances. He breathed her in, letting her natural scent soothe him. Letting her notes sink into his skin right over the whip marks on his back.
“Baby, give me a minute. I want you to just lay right here, the way you are—don’t move at all. Will you do that for me?”
Her hand found his head, fingers moving on his scalp in that way she had of making him feel like he was worthwhile. Worth everything. “Of course.”
It only took a few minutes to get the things he needed: the hot water, the wet cloth, the razor and foaming shaving cream. He returned to his woman, pushing her legs apart and standing between them.
Seychelle pushed up on her elbows. “What are you doing?”
“I’m shaving you, so hold still. I’ll tell you why I have to do this another time. You’ve heard enough crap about me to last you a lifetime, and this story isn’t much better. Just let me do this, babe.”
She lay back, her hands behind her head, which made her tits jut upward toward the ceiling. He had a lot of fantasies about her tits and those perfect erect nipples he had so many plans for. He smeared shaving cream on those gorgeous golden curls, swirled his name there.
“I love that you belong to me, Seychelle. I forgot to tell you about the house.” He wanted to distract her from what he was doing. It was very personal. She would find that anything personal belonged to him. He pushed her legs farther apart, positioning her knee high and to one side, exposing more of her pussy.
“The house?”
He had the feeling she knew what he was doing, but she went along with it anyway. “Yeah. The house. I own a house. It’s a damn cool house, at least I think you’ll love it. It’s ours. Well, it’s mine right now, but we’ll get your name on it as soon as possible. Absinthe does all that.”