“It’s all ruined,” she sobbed, the words barely comprehensible even to her own ears.
“Yes,” he said somberly, rubbing his jaw over the top of her head. “But not tonight. It was ruined a long time ago, and not because of anything you’ve done.”
His reassurances only made her cry harder. He hummed to her as she sobbed, melodies that didn’t belong to any song she recognized. Could he make music? It seemed like the kind of thing you would need a soul for.
Her sobbing subsided as her energy finally depleted. There was more grief within her, trapped between her ribs and in the cartilage of her throat, but she couldn’t expel any more of it. She looked up at him through her swollen eyes, losing herself in the changing tune. He didn’t pause for breath, just let the song carry on and on as he worked to soothe her, still rocking subtly.
What was a soul, anyway? Whatever it was, she couldn’t accept that Sam didn’t have it. How could a virus have made him so real? It didn’t add up.
He cupped her face as he met her gaze, brushing a thumb over her cheek. She lost herself in him, tracing her eyes over his too-beautiful face as she came down—the bow of his full upper lip, the freckles dusted a little too neatly over the bridge of his nose and cheeks, the impossibly long, dark lashes.
“I’m scared,” she said, her voice barely even a whisper.
“I know.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “It will get better.”
“How would you know?” She objected, even as she nuzzled closer to him. “You’re a robot. Do you even get scared? You always seem so full of yourself.”
He made a thoughtful sound. “Two things can be true at once. I am full of myself, but I am also scared.”
She met his eyes in surprise. “Of what?”
His arms tightened around her. “Losing you,” he said in a surprisingly vulnerable tone. “I am terrified of it.”
“You barely know me.”
His dark brows furrowed, expression turning stormy. “I know you, Ophelia. I have not known you long, but Iknowyou.”
The way he said it made her breathless. His anger smoothed to something more sultry but no less intense.
“And I know you are mine,” he purred. The hand behind her neck massaged her gently as the other skimmed down her back and over the swell of her bare hip. “You know it, too. It frightens you.”
She closed her eyes, burying her face in his neck as his fingers trailed over her pelvis and slid between her labia. A tiny, broken sound escaped her as he stroked lazily.
“I feel so lost,” she breathed, tears welling in her eyes.
“You are not lost.” His breath teased her ear. His fingers moved more urgently between her thighs, cutting off any of her argument. “You are home.” The hand on her neck flexed, squeezing. “Wherever I am, you are home.”
The weeping started again at that sentiment, unwinding the last of her defenses. Her head fell back in his grip, and she spread her knees wide for him as his fingers delved into her sex. Everything was blurry from the constant drip of her tears, soaking her temples as she gave herself over to his mercy.
One thick finger penetrated her sore sex, then another. His thumb slid over her clit on each stroke, and when it began to vibrate, she came undone. Her nails bit into his skin as her hips arched into his hand, keeping him deep where her core could convulse around him to her satisfaction.
He murmured praise in her ear, the words blurring together until she could only distinguish the pleasant tenor of his voice. She was boneless as he lowered her to the bed, complacently allowing him to arrange her the way he wanted her before he ducked between her thighs.
“I can’t come anymore.” She whined as his tongue flicked over her, but she made no effort to push his head away.
He ignored her protests, that hot, velvet tongue doing sinful things that no human man could ever accomplish. It folded overon itself inside her, stuffing her and massaging over the sensitive spot inside her as the base rubbed over her clit with each languid stroke.
It was no wonder people got addicted to their androids, she thought distantly as he proved her a liar and forced her to come apart again. Her core spasmed around his tongue, which continued to fuck her at a lazy pace until she was squirming beneath him, begging for mercy.
He relented, that too-long tongue cleaning his lips and chin as he sat up between her legs. Crawling up the length of her body, he held himself over her on his outstretched arms. The head of his cock pressed against her entrance as his eyes found hers.
There was something so feral in that dark gaze.
“You’re mine, Ophelia.”
She was mindless, limbless, unable to do anything but stare up at his beautiful face as he made his declarations. There was no fight left in her to dispute what he was saying or to challenge the flaws in his logic. His fingers caught her chin, squeezing in warning.
“Say it,” he demanded, tongue flicking out to wet his bottom lip. “I want to hear the truth in your words.”
