Right on fucking cue, her scream cuts down the hallway.
I bolt.
Barging into her bedroom.
She’s curled in bed—sweat-soaked, trembling, and thrashing. Her face is wet with tears. Her fists beat the air.
She needs me.
I crawl on top of her and pin her down hard, caging her with my body. She fights, kicking, scratching, screaming. Her nails tear at my skin, her voice ragged with panic.
“Let me go!” she screams—but it’s not me she sees.
“It’s okay, kitten,” I whisper.
That’s all it takes.
Her forehead drops to my chest. Her breath catches, warm and shaky against my skin. She curls into me, sobbing, in her sleep.
“I hate you,” she mumbles. “I fucking hate you.”
Even in her nightmares, she hates me.
But she’s clinging to me anyway.
Her nails dig in. I let them. Let her pain etch itself into me. If she needs to shred me apart just to breathe—I’ll let her.
I hold her tighter.
“I know. But you’re safe.”
Her breathing evens out. Her body melts into mine as she falls deeper into sleep. I stroke her hair, my fingers trailing the curve of her jaw, the slope of her throat. Her cheek rests against my chest like she belongs there.
I hate how it settles me. How the chaos shuts the fuck up when she’s in my arms. My hand drifts down, tracing the curve of her waist, the pull of her hip. She’s too warm. Too perfect. I can’t stop touching her. Can’t stop needing the way she makes me feel—like I’m not all void and jagged edges.
“I’ll make you feel good, little one.”
I shift down her body, kissing the sweat-damp skin between her ribs. Parting her thighs, I settle between them. My tongue flicks over her stomach, tasting salt and heat.
She gasps. Her legs tighten around my shoulders. Her hips roll against my mouth, soft moans escaping.
She doesn’t even know what she’s doing to me.
And I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing anymore.
I press my thumb to her clit, and her hips jerk, thighs tensing under my grip. I shove her underwear aside and drag my tongue through her folds.
Sweet. Fucking sweet.
Better than I remember.
My cock twitches against the mattress, desperate for friction. I grind down, groaning into her heat, my hands tightening on her thighs to pin her to my mouth. I lick deeper, tongue curling inside her, chasing that sound—the soft gasp she makes when I graze her clit with my teeth.
She bucks. Writhes. Her body moving on instinct, trying to grind against my face. Her cunt’s soaked. Her moans are turning ragged.
And her scent…
Her scent’s fucking everything.
