"Glue."
"And this one?" I press my palm to the smooth white scar along his collarbone—tattooed with vines and flowers, the petals appear wilted, at the end of their life. A tattoo equally as beautiful as it is sad. "What happened here? It looks old."
He sighs roughly and covers my hand with his own, together holding the mark that signifies a clearly painful memory.
I don't press him further.
Taking the opportunity while his controlled demeanour seems to be fracturing, I close my eyes, lean in, and pepper my lips along the swollen flesh of his cheek.
My heart balloons when he doesn't stop me but instead sighs roughly, his body relaxing further on the sofa.
Heading down and to the side, my mouth flutters like a feather along his skin until I reach his lips. He deepens our kiss when he releases my hip and threads his fingers through my hair, knotting them in possessively.
Inhaling his breath, I exhale these words: "I love you, Sir. You can be vulnerable with me."
He stills beneath the chaste motion of my mouth, his nose sliding along mine. I open my eyes, meeting his blue gaze inches away. "I am," he states in a way that suggests I should already know this, see this.
I glance at the slice he refused to let me tend to as a sombre feeling shifts through me.
He frowns, seeing the sadness playing across my face. He elaborates, "When I look at you, I'm speechless." His hands tighten in my hair to draw my gaze back to him, to demand my attention. I look into his eyes. "And I'm not often without the right words, sweet girl, but your entire person—" he sighs roughly. "I simply can't believe you were put together with such perfection. I won't apologise for refusing to taint that with my blood and rot."
"You're not rotten!"
"Yes—" He sweeps his gaze over me, "I am."
No."No," I murmur, heat rushing to the backs of my eyes because how can he talk about himself in such a way when he is the only person on this entire earth who has given me his time, his attention. He's given me everything, for fucksake!No.
I shake my head at him, angry at this life that's so cruel to him and so neglectful to me… He'snotfucking rotten. If he's rotten, then the entire world is the cause, eating at him, ripping the good away, leaving raw, wounded flesh.
Emotions bubble within me, but he halts the rising wave of them when he stands with my legs still wrapped around his waist. His cock grows inside me, flexing with renewed thickness and strength.
He cups the back of my head when he lays me down beneath him on the mattress and begins to roll his hips in an excruciatingly slow and meaningful rhythm.
I grip his shoulders as he rocks up and into me, dragging his long, heavy body along mine to remain close and deep.
I'm dizzy from every inch of his steady, tireless thrusting as the evening rolls on with him inside me. Close.
Soon, I'm coming with a throaty cry, tightening my thighs around him, hugging him.
And he comes inside me again.
CHAPTEREIGHT
clay
She is still asleepwhen I take her again with the knowledge that she is ready to accept her pretty body. Forgive her pretty body. It's apparent as I spread her thighs open, her legs flopping lax, trusting,welcoming, that she conquered some of her demons last night.
"So snug, little deer," I groan by her ear, sliding into her hot, tight pussy. "Let me in, sweet girl."
She gasps but receives me as I brace my body over hers, pressing in, forcing her to take me to the hilt. I couldn't wait last night, anddammit, I lost my mind when I saw her pleasuring herself. Fighting through tears…
Was that for me?
She wants to handle my evil.
I’ll never let my evil infect her…
And yet, my lack of self-control with her is a serious concern, dangerous, even. Where I find myself— Christ, seeking a kind of comfort, approval, sanctuary—