“I don’t know yet,” I answered, offering the bullet graze on my arm the barest excuse for a glance. “But he has shitty aim.”
Sage grabbed me. His hand wrapped around the wound, over the gauze, and he tightened his fingers around my bicep until I answered him with a choked-off grunt of pain in the back of my throat.
“I told you to stay in one piece,” he hissed.
“I’m whole.”
He shook his head and squeezed. My eyes rolled back in my head and a moan fell out of my mouth. His hand on my arm hurt, and I never wanted him to let me go. I didn’t want to ever forget what it felt like to have him here.
“If you mean what you say, Golden…” Sage paused, lip twitching into a rough and possessive expression. “If you…if you want to be…with me…then I’m the only one who gets to make you bleed.”
Blood pulsed between my legs, his demanding tone brokering no argument, no room for negotiation.
“I didn’t mean to get shot,” I rasped.
“No one,” he reiterated through clenched teeth. “You’re smarter than this. I can’t be with you if I’m going to be worried about you dying all the time.”
“I’ll do my best.” I dropped my head against the wall and let out a ragged breath.
His hand relaxed and pain flared up my bicep, and then he grabbed me again, tighter than before.
“I said I’m the only one.”
“Alright,” I agreed, answering with a quick nod. “The only one.”
Relief washed over his face and he surged forward, crushing our mouths together. Sage’s tongue dipped between my lips like he’d been invited, and he kissed me with a sense of desperation and ownership so thorough, I worried I would come in my pants.
His free hand set to work on my fly, and I raised off my ass, giving him as much help as his hold on me allowed. He shoved his pants down and kicked them off, collapsing back down and pressing our bodies together.
Fuck, I’d missed the feel of him.
Sage reached over to rifle through his nightstand, and I closed my eyes, sliding down the headboard and onto the pillow. He shifted on top of me, moving down my body and regretfully, releasing my arm. Another hot flash of pain seared through me, but I was distracted by his fingers against the insides of my thighs, pushing me apart and holding me open.
He breathed heavily, stare focused on the way he’d exposed me. Heat flooded my cheeks at his perusal, but he didn’t look away.
“Just mine.” He pressed a kiss against the inside of my thigh.
“Yours,” I agreed. “And…”
He nipped his teeth against the place he’d kissed, then he licked his way toward my balls. His breath was hot against the tender skin, and I shivered.
“And?” he prompted, laving his tongue over my sac.
“And you?” I managed to ask.
“Yours,” he said, sucking one of my balls into his mouth.
I arched off the bed with a surprised gasp, and his hands slid around to the tops of my legs and pushed me flat against the mattress.
He moved away from my balls and licked his way lower, that deviant and sinful tongue of his lapping over my hole. He knew he was teasing me, swirling around my entrance, and then he pushed in. The tip of his tongue speared deep, and he sealed his lips around me, sucking and kissing and fucking me with his mouth.
Gooseflesh peppered its way up my arms and down my spine, and when Sage added a thick finger to his assault, I thought I would die and leave my body. It hadn’t been that long since he’d touched me, since he’d fucked me, but somehow the days between us felt like an eternity. No touch was strong enough or hard enough, no penetration deep enough. I found myself feeling dazed and desperate, colored with an urgent need for him to mark me.
To claim me.
To own me.
Again.
