Domestic violence
Attempted murder
Rape
I stare at the paper in shock. “Are you seeing this?” I ask, glancing at Austin.
He’s staring at the paper too, just as wide-eyed as I imagine I am. “Yeah.”
The sheriff is quiet while we flip to the next page.
Fuck.
All the identifying information has been blocked out, but it’s full of documentation. The results of a rape kit. A divorce decree signed three weeks before I moved in with Damien. A protective order ordering no contact between the alleged and the victim. And photos. So many photos.
Each one is worse than the last. Fingerprint bruises much like my own around a pale throat. Another with a young man’s face, eyes so swollen you can’t see the color of his irises. One with severe bruising along his spine and lower back. And probably worst of all, one taken from the front that shows a man’s bare torso with a stitched-up gash running from right under his left nipple, across his stomach, to his hip.
Damien truly tried to kill him. My throat goes tight, my vision blurring at everything I’m seeing.
And finally, in the very back, a handwritten note with a name and a phone number.
Theodore Baker 712-654-3187
Feel free to reach out anytime. No hard feelings if not.
I look up at the sheriff. “Was he convicted?” Obviously he wasn’t. He wouldn’t have moved me in three weeks later if he was.
He shakes his head. “No. Got off on a technicality.” He leans in close before whispering, “Between you and me, Austin? I think you did the world a favor by taking him out of it.”
“Wecan’tjustspendthe whole day in bed.”
Austin pulls me closer to him, nuzzling my hair. “Mmm. I think you’ll find that we can.”
Truthfully, I’m not mad about it. Not really. It’s nice. It’s nice to justbe.No stress hanging over us, no worry about the cops. And honestly, no worries about Damien.
Other than a dull ache in my ribs, there’s nothing left on my skin of Damien. Not a bruise. Hell, I can’t even feel the ghost of his hands anymore.
“I need new marks,” I say softly, and Austin groans.
“Yeah?”
I wriggle out of his hold, then tilt my head back. “Yeah, I really do.”
Austin dips his head without another word, latching onto the side of my throat. A shiver wracks my body when he sucks, then drags his tongue over the spot. “Fuck, that feels good.”
“Oh?” His low laugh vibrates my throat, and then he’s sinking his teeth into it. Not hard. Not here, anyway. The rest of my body? Well, that’s a different beast. “It’s been too long since you’ve been covered in me, huh? You needed more?”
“I—” My cock jerks as he sucks his way down my throat to my collarbone, sinking his teeth in again. “I always need more.”
When he rolls me to my back and settles over me, I lose the ability to speak entirely. All that comes out are raspy moans and breathless whimpers as he leaves a path of his love down my body and over my skin.
It probably says a lot about me—and not all of it good—that being turned into Austin’s canvas like this turns me on so damn much, but I’ve learned not to fight a good thing. And this? This is averygood thing.
My cock is throbbing, leaking pre-cum all over my stomach, when Austin pushes my leg back and bites my inner thigh. This is my favorite place, and he knows it. He knows that there’s a certain spot that’ll damn near make me come hands-free just from his mouth alone, and he knows I want his bite marks there more than anything.
“My beautiful Luca,” he whispers, dragging his lips up and down my inner thigh before biting down and making me gasp. My back arches, and my hands tangle in his hair.
“God, more.”
