“That’s it,Koshgelam, take all of me inside that perfect fucking body,” he purrs, and I wiggle my hips, needing to feel him move more than I need to breathe.
“Please, Tarl,” I beg, my free hand coming up and gripping his shoulder, my nails digging in and leaving my mark.
“Please what,Azizam?” he quizzes in a gravelly, sultry tone, and I swear his voice is enough to bring me halfway to climax.
“Please fuck me, my love. Make it hurt and feel so fucking good that they hear my screams in the cabin.” I’m beyond caring that I’m begging with him, and if the growl of passion that rumbles in his chest is any sign, he fucking loves it. They all do.
“As you ask so prettily,Azizam,” he purrs gruffly, finally moving his hips in a slow, torturous rhythm that still leaves me panting as that fucking piercing drags up and down my inner walls. “So fucking perfect for us,” he groans between clenched teeth, our eyes locked on each other as he picks up his pace, fucking me hard into our hay mattress.
It feels like the stars in the sky have come down to caress my skin, setting me alight with every stroke, and soon I find it hard to keep my eyes open, sinking into the pleasure that his body is giving mine.
“Fuck, yes, Tarl! I love your fucking cock inside me,” I mumble, his hips thrusting faster as my words spur him on.
“You were once promised a necklace,” he whispers, his weight shifting as he brings one hand up to grasp my throat. He’s still careful to avoid my injured shoulder, his body settling onto mine while still leaving that side untouched.
“Please give me one.” My voice is a husky rasp as his fingers tense around my throat. “I want your marks on me for days,JigarTalâ.”
“It would be my pleasure, my beautiful bird,” he replies, his hand tightening further until I can only take in a tiny sliver of air. The lack of oxygen sends me higher, my body convulsingand twitching as my lungs scream but my pussy weeps and clenches around him. “So, fucking tight. You like that, don’t you,Eshgham?”
I can’t answer him as he cuts off my air completely, pounding into me harder and harder until black dots dance before my eyes. I’m helpless to stop the orgasm that rips through me, tearing me apart and remaking me in the way that Tarl demands, and his hand on my throat doesn’t loosen up as he continues to fuck me so hard I know that I’ll feel him for fucking days.
Just as the dots join up and threaten to overtake my vision, he buries himself inside me, roaring as he climaxes, his entire body going rigid as his hand contracts a fraction more. Then suddenly, he goes limp, his body crushing mine, though he still somehow stays away from the healing knife wound in my shoulder. Sweet, hay-scented air rushes into my starving lungs just as another release hits me, coating our thighs in my pleasure, his hips moving as he prolongs the ecstasy.
We stay locked together for what feels like hours, just breathing each other in and exploring what it means to be alive, and when we are fully sated, both exhausted but content, we wrap ourselves in blankets and fall asleep in each other’s arms. In this moment, I know that all's right with the world, a world that I no longer have to fear as I will never be alone again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“TIDAL WAVE” BY CHASE ATLANTIC
LARK
Ispend the next couple of weeks with the guys coddling me until it’s almost suffocating while the weather grows cooler. My shoulder heals enough that the stitches come out, and Tarl is pleased that there’s no numbness in the area which would hint at nerve damage. I have a fresh scar to add to the collection, and one morning, I gaze at my body, frowning at my reflection in the mirror, looking at all the scars that decorate my skin.
“Why the sad face, Nightingale?” Jude asks as he comes up behind me, wrapping his tattooed arms around me and tucking his face against my neck. Goosebumps erupt all over my skin and I melt into him, our bodies brushing in a dizzying wave of heat as he’s bare-chested and I’m just in some emerald-colored, lace underwear that he bought for me.
“I hate all these marks,” I confess softly, my gaze tracing the scar on my stomach from where I was stabbed there when I led the guys to Soldier HQ several weeks back.
“But they are a part of you, and all of you is beautiful, Nightingale,” Jude states simply, and I catch his gaze in the mirror, his eyes showing nothing but heat as he looks at me.
“I don’t want to constantly be reminded of all the shit that’s happened in my life, Devil Prince, and that’s all I can see when I look at them in the mirror.”
He stills, his head tilting as he considers me for a moment. We’re in my room, the stunning mural of the birds behind us. I watch as a slow smile spreads across his plush lips. “Then I will cover each one up with a tattoo,” he says, beaming, and excitement pools in my chest.
“You will?” I ask, squealing as he spins me in his arms so that the front of our bodies are pressed together.
“I’ll even let you choose some of them,” he offers, no hint of how fucking wrong that statement is, given that it’s my body, but I love him regardless.
“The girl with stardust in her hair, I want her,” I answer back, pushing away from him a little so I can look up at his handsome face. A slight blush steals over his cheeks, the sight so unusual that I pause, my hands on his bare chest. “You’re blushing, Jude!”
He gives me a boyish smile that fucking ruins my panties and sets my core quivering.
“I drew her for you, she is you,” he admits, his hand coming up to stroke down my hair, his ocean-deep eyes following the move as it trails against his fingertips. “You are starlight, Nightingale, lighting our way in this dark, fucked up world.” His voice is barely above a breathy whisper, and my whole body tingles with the reverence in his tone.
“You are my anchors,” I whisper, his intense, passion-filled stare flitting up to mine and devouring me. “You keep me here, showing me that there’s more to this life than pain and suffering. You make me live, not just survive.”
A single tear drips down his cheek, his breath stuttering as he grabs my waist and pulls me closer, eliminating any space between us.
“Promise me you’ll never leave us, Nightingale,” he demands quietly, pulling a flip knife from his pocket and flicking it open. “And seal your oath in blood.”
