“Goddamn,” he says. He’s flushed, his eyes brilliant.
“I see what you mean about forgetting the pain,” I whisper.
I settle into his lap, and he waits for me to arrange myself so the cuts on my thighs aren’t being pulled. I take care not to push against his side, where the bruises are. The place where he stabbed me twinges, a reminder of how close he came to piercing my heart.
If I hadn’t yielded to that moment of weakness and collapsed against him, would he have killed me? If I hadn’t softened and succumbed, would I be dead now?
Will I be dead tomorrow?
“Your mind is wandering,” he says against my swollen mouth.
“How did you know?”
“The tension, the distraction. You’re overthinking something. Think about it later, love.”
A twinge of resistance thrums in my chest at the request.
“You just tensed upmore,” he says, not angry, not mocking me, but reading my mental state as easily as if we’ve known each other for years. “Look at me, Devilry.”
There’s a note of command in his voice this time, a firm authority that won’t be denied. My body responds automatically, my gaze snapping to his.
“You’re going to forget everything except you and me,” he says. “You’ll obey me in this, because it’s what you need. Understand?”
I quiver on the edge of resistance—and then, with a sigh, I submit.
It’s a conscious gift to him and to myself, a temporary surrender of my authority. And I’ve never felt such sweet relief.
“I will obey,” I answer.
The air between us has shifted again, like we’re pieces of a puzzle box moving into new places, finding new configurations, none of which are wrong, all of which eventually lead to what we crave.
Ravager doesn’t smile when he looks at me now. His eyes are molten blue steel, relentless and dominant. “Lie back, Devilry, and open your legs. Show me your pussy.”
My breathing turns fragile as I drape myself on the linens and spread my knees.
“Wider,” he orders. “I want to be able to look right inside you, into this pretty pink vault I’m about to enter.”
Clenching my teeth, I open my thighs as wide as I can. I can feel myself parting for him wetly.
“Does that hurt the cuts on your thighs?” he asks.
“A little.” It hurts more than I’m letting on, but I suspect as my arousal grows, that pain will be sublimated, like he said. I’m already warm and wet and tingling… aching to be touched.
“Stay just like that for me, unless it gets too painful.”
When I nod, he reaches out one thick finger and strokes between the lips of my sex. Then he takes both sides of my pussy and pins them back, looking deep inside me.
No one I’ve been with has taken the time to reallylookat me like this. With the others, sex was quick, with maybe a grunted compliment or two. Ravager is exploring me, studying me like he’d study a map before a job.
My breathing quickens as I torment myself with theories about what he’s thinking. Does he like what he sees? There are parts of myself I love and parts I dislike—is he going to see the imperfections of my body and comment on them, like he mocked my breasts at first? I like to think that I’m confident enough not to care… but somehow, with him, I absolutely care. Deeply, painfully.
“You’re fucking exquisite,” he whispers.
I whimper a little with sheer relief.
“I love how pink and puffy these are.” He runs a finger down each lip of my pussy. “I think I need to taste them.”
“Fuck,” I whisper as he gets down between my legs.
