When she whispers my name against my mouth, barely a sound, more like a prayer, I realize I’d do anything, just to feel her breathe like this again.
I don’t leave her lips for a second as I grab her under her knees and lift her into my arms. She instantly circles her legs around me, almost suffocating me.
I carry her to my wing, we burst through the door, not bothering with closing it and we collapse to my bed, Kiara now straddling me.
She pulls away to look at me, her lips swollen and cheeks red, her hair tousled. The room is lit up only by moonlight coming in through the tall French windows. It’s probably around three a.m. and the silver light is gliding over her olive skin like it’s worshipping her.
My fingers follow the lights, slowly sliding her dress up and over her head, revealing her beautiful body. My hands move over her skin—these ugly, ruined things that don’t deserve to feel something this pure.
Every scar on my palms feels louder now, every rough patch screaming against her softness. Her skin feels like something sacred, and I’m afraid to even breathe too close, afraid I’ll stain it just by existing near her.
She takes my hand—the same hand that’s taken lives—and guides it to her face. Her eyes flutter shut as if the touch itself calms her, like she’s been waiting for it, like she missedit. She leans her cheek into it, breathing me in. I can feel her pulse under my fingertips, steady and real, and it hurts, her tenderness is like a blasphemy for me.
Is she really accepting me?
Me?
I imagined the moment six years ago, over and over, a version where she didn’t run away afraid of me.
I never thought it could become true.
I roll us over, hovering above her for a moment, memorizing the sight—her head sunk into my sheets, dark hair fanned out around us, her angelic body right under me.
Her hands slip beneath my shirt, fingers tracing my skin slowly, carefully. I close my eyes, letting it sink in, holding onto every touch. When she pushes the fabric up, I pull it off the rest of the way and lower myself back over her.
Her hands roam over my chest and shoulders, her thumbs brushing along my happy trail, and I’m already hard for her again. I press soft kisses along her jaw, down her neck, taking my time, tasting her. By the time I reach her bra, I slide a hand beneath her, unclasp it, and toss it aside without breaking the rhythm, inhaling her scent so obsessively so it burns itself in my nostrils and never leaves again.
My mouth trails all the way down to her core, biting her, fighting my teeth not to rip into her skin.
I want to fucking eat her. To sink my teeth into her flesh and drink her blood.
I pull back for a second, dragging in a breath, trying to steady myself. Then I lift her leg, pressing a kiss to her foot, letting my mouth trace its way slowly up her calf, her thigh, until the white lacy fabric is the only thing keeping me from eating her.
“I could spend hours re-memorizing every inch of you and it still wouldn’t be enough.”
I flip the delicate lace off and devour the view of her being completely naked, inmybed. Something I’ve been imagining for six years.
Finally, I bury myself in her, playing with her pussy. Her scent is another level. I feel like a fucking freak, inhaling her scent like it’s my oxygen. I never want to breathe air that isn’t the same as hers ever again. I kiss her clit, suck it, bite it a little until she’s screaming.
Then I spin her around, throwing her onto her belly and instantly grabbing her hips to pull her in, quickly opening my pants with one hand and shoving myself inside her without hesitation, all the way in, to the hilt.
She screams out and tries to pull away to ease the pressure but fails, I can’t let her. I love the first thrust. When it’s too much, when she hasn’t adjusted yet and she squirms in my hands, shaking with the pleasurable pain. I know she loves it too.
My arm slides under her breasts and lifts her up, pressing her back to my torso, her head falling backwards to my chest as she looks up at me from under her long lashes.
I squeeze her throat with one hand, holding her body with the other and slam deep inside her.
Her eyes roll back and the sounds that come out of her mouth are making me go so rough I can feel our sweat mixing between our bodies, sliding against each other, the drops sliding down her back and disappearing between her ass cheeks.
I drop my head into the curve between her neck and shoulder, to nibble her skin, bite her and lick her sweat off, all the way up to her ear, fighting the urge to rip her neck open.
The thrusts turn rougher, picking up speed, the sweat in between us making our bodies melt into each other.
“You’re taking me so good,” I grit out. “You were made for me, no one else, you understand?”
She nods in my hands as I slide my finger to her pussy to stroke her clit, making her whine with pleasure and chasing her high, bursting with orgasm so loud I cover her mouth, the muffled sounds echoing in my palm somehow sounding even better.
“That’s it, melt for me. No one else gets to see you like this ever again.”
