She peers up at me and her eyes hold my breath in my throat—brilliant green and silvery-blue. Unparalleled in their beauty but also in such vivid pain.
My forehead tightens.
I want to see those enchanting orbs shine, bordered in crinkles of glee, clear from ghosts and memories, steady with pride and determination. With happiness. Hope. Love… forherself."I know you don't see what I see, little deer."
She looks away, her lower lip vibrating as she tries to fight the pull of her emotions. "I see the girl in the recording. The one who didn't fight for herself but travelled all over the city to fight for her brother, to find his killer."
Her jaw wrestles with tremors within my cradling palms. And dammit, if I could trade my life to change hers, I would. "Sweet girl," I say, encouraging her to look at me again with the gentle tilt of her face. She does. "The girl in the footage is a survivor… Do I seem like the kind of man who loves easily?" Her breath hitches at the word—love. I don't say it often, but I say it enough. Perhaps she needs to hear it more. "I love you, little deer, and I will love you even when you won't, even when you can't. So you don't need to right now."
"And you say you're not a soft man," she says, her brows pulling with, her gaze filling with tears.
"You have the most enchanting eyes; I blame them."
"You can talk." She looks adoringly at me. "You are the single most beautiful person alive, Sir."
I sigh roughly; she is damn blind. "If only you looked in the mirror more. Now, sweet girl, give me a smile."
She offers me a sad smile for my order, so I kiss it firmly, feeling her relax into the kiss. Her backside shifts along the taut muscles in my thighs, her pelvis making a rolling motion that stiffens my cock.
Allowing her bare pussy to grind along the fabric-covered bulge of my shaft, I eat at her mouth as she fumbles in her need for pleasure.
I stifle the growl fraught within my throat as her little dance right now and the enduring discomfort from this morning has the man in me barking to sink into her. To fill my girl with cum, to fill her with—
I shake the thought. My hands slide into her wet crown, fisting the strands tightly so I can tilt and kiss along her face, her jaw, her throat. The roll of her nervousness massages along my tongue when she swallows.
She moans with her chin to the ceiling, her pussy grounding down on my shaft to its husky tempo, her mind disappearing again in the pleasure.
I won't take her.Dammit,I want to. I will not allow myself to take her until she forgives herself. Until she sees what I see when I look at her. I won't allow her to hide behind my arousal, to love herself throughmydesire.
My lips skate along her collarbone before I bite the ridge gently and then drag my tongue down. Sliding my hand to her back, my palm spanning out, I push her spine towards me. She bows beneath the pressure, her chest rising, her nipples meeting my eager mouth. I lick at the pebbled bullet—one of my favourite parts of her impeccable body.
They are a contradiction to her classic, soft femininity. While her every curve is smooth and subtle, her nipples scream she's made to be fucked like an animal. They engorge and flush with rich blood, lengthen and expand, creating a sinful little bullet that makes my cock leak.
Her moans become throaty as I give my sweet girl the attention she needs. Sucking, mouthing, licking the malleable, pulsing little tubes.
Her hands move into my hair, and my body vibrates with the need to fuck her, so I need to do something I crave just as much as my own release. Something I have become rather addicted to, and she deserves. She deserves her pleasure. All the pleasures I can give.
Her nipple pops from my mouth as I demand, "Stand up, sweet girl." I grip her hips and aid her as she climbs to her feet. I gaze at her pretty pussy, newly dusted in short blonde hairs that harden my cock to the point of pain. "Put one of your knees on my shoulder and grind on my face like you do my thigh when I play with your tight body on my lap."
A whimper escapes her.
Panning my fingertips up the back of her thighs until I get to the creases of her backside, I enjoy the way her skin prickles beneath my touch.
I cover each cheek and lean into her while she lifts her knee and rests it on my shoulder. Her pussy becomes a slightly open slit. "You have changed me. Very few things affect me. Less change me.”
I push her into my mouth, and her hips don't shy away from grinding on my jaw and lips. Flicking my tongue out and tilting it up to the bundle of nerves above, I massage around her plump little clit.
I hear her arms meet the tiles, hear a sigh leave her. Glancing up, I catch her rubbing her brow on her forearms. Her hair falls in a curtain around her face. I take a moment to appreciate the way her breasts hang full and pert, how her flat stomach tenses, and her lips purse into a heart shape.
Stunning.
My sweet girl.
I smirk against her, possessive and proud I'm the only man alive to have touched her.Alive…Those dead fuckers who touched her still haunt her…
Mine.
I drop my attention to her glistening little pussy, the scent of her sweet womanly flesh steadying my world. "This pussy," I say, licking slowly and speaking into her warm supple skin, "lingers in my mind all day.”