SHE MAKES ME A MAN. AND LOVES THE MONSTER INSIDE ME.
Citizen Soldier Playlist
“Monster Made of Memories”
“The Other Side of Pain”
Jude assures us she’s fine. Just overwhelmed. Tired and worn. But that won’t stop us from fucking her.
This was her choice. And we know she’s strong enough, desperate enough, with an undeniable thirst.
“Do you have it, Seth?” Jude asks as Seth approaches with the iron rod, burning at its end with the new brand he forged following Raphael’s orders.
It’s perfect. In just a few moments, the mark will be seared into her skin, inside the eye, surrounded by our chains.
Raphael gives me the nod, and I take a greedy handful of the back of her thighs, digging my fingers into the plump flesh. I love every curve. Every line. Every shudder she makes when I grip her like she belongs to me.
Her skin is hot, flushed from the fire we’ve all stoked, and I can feel the tremble in her legs as I haul her closer, her breasts to my chest. She smells like sweat and sin, like something I’d ruin myself for.
I murmur something filthy and worshipful in her ear and bury my face in her neck, inhaling like she’s the only air that’sever fed me right. Her pulse flutters there, wild and trusting, and I press my lips to it, just to feel her alive beneath me. Mine. Ours.
She makes a sound in her passed-out state, this little gasp that turns into a whimper, and it shoots straight to my spine. I want to devour her. Worship her. And protect her with every broken piece of my wrecked-up self. And I will.
My past does not define me. Not these scars and tattoos like war paint on my skin.
I’m not on a battlefield anymore. I am at the castle gates, defending everything, giving my life, my body, and my heart meaning.
She has given that sense of worthiness to me. I don’t need to break her like Raphael. I don’t need to burn her like Rory. Jude is the healer. I am the caretaker. And Briella is the one I will take care of the most.
So, as Seth directs the hot iron upon her flesh, I drive myself inside her, cover her mouth with mine, and consume her scream from the hot iron engraving her skin.
As soon as Seth removes the brand, she falls against me more, her lips parting to welcome me. Sheathed inside her with her drenched from Raphael’s cum and her own fluids, I fuck her slow and full, savoring the feeling of her clenching around me.
All sanity escapes.
Holding her here with my one hand, I sink my other into her thick, long curls, gathering them into a messy knot. I devour her, consume her, possess her in one demanding kiss. She tastes like the sweetest heaven and most sinful of hell. I love her natural, feminine scent. I give her everything. I lose control. Every last thread of control I’ve held onto for the past ten years since I left the fights.
Her tongue lashes mine, ferocious and sweet.
Inside the heaven of her heat, any man would be ruined. She devastates as much as she surrenders.
She could rip the heart from my chest, and I’d still worship her.
I angle my jaw, eating her mouth, a rumbling growl escaping my throat. She shivers beneath me. Her hips rock softly. Her pussy sucks me more. She pulses all around me.
I don’t stop kissing her. She’s the greatest therapy, the strongest antidepressant.
To think, I spent the past ten years never fucking a woman. Because none ever made it to her level. I played the observer all that time, getting off on the torment. Little better than an animal following its baser instincts.
She makes me a man. And loves the monster inside me.
I thrust in, then pull out to the tip before burying myself inside her, stealing every breath, every whimper, every cry. I push air into her.
We find a good rhythm, hips moving in time, skin slapping with sweat, her limbs tangled around my waist. Love how her gorgeous tits bounce against my chest. Soft, fair skin against all my tattoos. I’d carve all my fucking skin and give every scrap to her if she asked.
My muscles strain with my need to control this, keeping her here until I decide she should come with me.
Unreal. I can’t fathom how she’s real.
