“Y-Yes.” She stammers, sweat dripping between her breasts. Her legs quiver with the effort to keep them hoisted up around me.
“That’s a good girl.” I say working my pelvis against her clit. Her eyes roll back into her head at the friction and then she’s crying out my name like an incantation. I follow closely behind, unleashing my hot cum into her.
We stand there for a moment, dazed and breathing hard. Our breath mingles, chests heaving from the euphoric exertion. Her feet find the ground and we straighten ourselves to our full height. She runs her hands through her disheveled locks and worries her bottom lip between her teeth.
“Well, sir…”
“Come with me.”
She blinks hard, surprised. “I’m sorry?”
“You didn’t think I was done with you, did you?”
A smile plays against her lips, and I snatch her by her delicate wrist, tugging her along in the dark to my room where I plan to ravage her till that melodic voice of hers is hoarse from screaming out in pleasure.
* * *
The soundof distant fluttering beats against the ceiling while Marigold’s head rests in the crook of my arm. Must be bats up in the attic again. I make a mental note to send out for Bert to take a look in the morning.
I haven’t fallen asleep yet, afraid that if I close my eyes then she’ll disappear. Instead, I find myself starring down at the beautiful creature in my arms, noting her slumbering breaths and the way her long, dark eyelashes kiss her rose colored cheeks. I wish I were an artist and could capture this moment of serene bliss on a canvas. Forever frozen within the strokes of paint and linseed.
My fingers stroke her soft skin down her lightly freckled arm which makes her tuck in against me even closer. I leave a gentle kiss on her forehead. Things are finally beginning to look up.
MARIGOLD
Barrett’s arms wrap around me tightly, tucking me into his side. Our bodies are a perfect match. That thought is equally terrifying and thrilling. It has me feeling, for the lack of a better word, fucked. This strong, gorgeous man now holds the power to render me broken after I swore to never let someone back into my heart again. Barrett Blackford has weaseled his way in with his unshaved chiseled jaw, sharp cheekbones, and glorious orgasms. The orgasms though just might be worth it. I can feel him already stirring, his length hard and searching for me in his tiredness.
I’m sore from last night, but still feel myself opening for him, letting him shove himself into my slick entrance.
Rocking gently into me I hear his voice sounding thick with sleep and desire. “This might be my most favorite way to wake up.”
“I whole heartedly agree.” I speed up our pace and he groans into my shoulder. His fingers dig into my hip while he sheaths himself inside of me with his girthy length. The sensation sends jolt of pleasure down my spine and into my clit, building an orgasm within my core. I can feel the shimmery edges of it erupt down my body before he unleashes a stream of his hot cum inside me that sends me over the edge.
He shudders against me, kissing me down my bare shoulder before bounding out of bed with a renewed sense of energy. A wild, playful look overtakes his handsome features, crooking up his lips into a roguish smile. “I’m going to get us some breakfast, stay right there.”
Before I have time to protest, he’s shrugging his robe on and already out the door leaving me to the quietness of his room and the loudness of my thoughts.
Would Barrett still be so enthused to be with someone like me if he knew the truth? He knew he liked my body, my scent, the way I make him feel. But he doesn’t know anything about me. I in turn, know very little of him. He doesn’t know that the murder in the park was because of me. I’ve done so many over the years, it’s hard to keep track of, and though I suppose I should feel an ounce of remorse, I never do. The world is better off without those creatines.
Were I to find out the man murdered people as I do, would my feelings change for him? I explore that thought and land on a resounding no. I adore the way he makes me feel. The way he makes sure his children are well cared for. He’s rough around the edges, clearly damaged goods, but then so am I.
I prefer it as opposed to the many men I’ve met throughout the years who didn’t know the unkindness of the world and acted as if they were untouchable. No, Barrett knows that this world can spit you out as easily as twig snapping in a strong wind.
I haven’t always been this way. I was once a child, full of promise and light. But my surroundings soon snuffed that out as quickly as rain evaporates from the ground on a warm day. My father resented my existence. Two girls. One too many- he thought. A waste of his time. So, he took the elder under his tutelage and cast me, the younger aside. He made me sit for hours on end in my room, with just my bed and mirror for company. I would conjure friends out of thin air, talking to myself and singing myself to sleep. I became one with the shadows, finding ways to entertain myself.
I used to make faces in the mirror for hours, staring at my reflection and wondering what would make me perfect in my father’s eyes.
Being utterly unwanted does things to a person. It molds and shapes them until they’re as sharp as knife. Their demeanor cutting before they can be cut. Their words become their blades- a weapon forged from pain. Their past twisting and breaking them until they mutate into the very thing that hurt them in the first place. Not all choose the same path, but far too many willingly become a part of the vicious cycle from whence they were formed.
Such a choice was presented to me the night I found Charles had been cheating on me with my sister. My twin chosen over me once more. The trauma of my childhood began twisting me into a cruel and vicious version of myself. Without it, who knows what type of woman I could have turned out to be. Maybe one that didn’t let birds maul people to death with no remorse. But such a thing is too late to be changed now. My story has been written, my past unchangeable. I’ve made my decisions and there is no going back. No changing what happened so long ago.
I was just sixteen years old when I’d experienced my first flash of magic. I thought it had been a fluke. A trick of the eyes. Another imagination spent from so much time alone. But then it happened again. I went running down the stairs, heart pounding as I clutched a ball of light in my right hand. I remember thinking that maybe now father will have to love me as he does my sister. It was not to be, my sister had been doing magic for a whole year already.
The light I held fizzled out with a loud pop, any hope I’d held onto disappearing in that moment. My sister sat looking on at me, the same features I saw every day in the mirror were now pointing and giggling at my misfortune of being born five minutes later. My father had me dragged back into my room by one of his men where they locked the door for good measure.
“Don’t bother us again.” His voice called after us and struck a deep irreparable wound on my heart. One I thought I was cured of when I was allowed to enter society and quickly engaged to Charles. A business partner of my father’s. I’d finally have someone to love me for me. Someone I could call my own.
I let out a sigh, remembering the moment I’d found him wrapped up with my sister. The blood-thirst for vengeance that inhabited my every cell and caused magic to spill from my fingers, calling all sorts of birds to my aid. They flew into the house by the hundreds, breaking the windows and swooping at anyone who wasn’t me. My sister ran throwing a protection bubble around herself that kept her from getting pecked to death. Charles wasn’t so lucky.
