I can feel my balls drawing up before I pull my cock out of her mouth, watching as slobber trails down her chin, all while she looks up to me, ready to give her all to me.
Motioning my finger for her to stand, once she’s fully up, I grab her by her hips, planting her on the desk behind her. A small yelp leaves her swollen lips. Taking both my hands on her thighs, spreading her legs wide open, before pulling her to the edge of the desk. I lean in and gently kiss her, while lining my cock up to her waiting pussy, before sinking into my favorite spot.
She welcomes me, forming around, fitting just perfectly, as we both moan out in unison.
Laying her back onto the desk, I pull her legs up as I start to pound into her.
“Fuck, yes. Just like that.” Her words sound bouncy as I push into her, her tits bouncing too.
Looking down, I memorize the way my dick disappears into her, her pussy lips blossoming, stretching around me as each thrust comes out wetter and wetter. Pulling all the way out, she moans at the emptiness before crying out when I sink all the way back into her. My balls slapping her ass echoes around the room, her wetness synchronizes with the sounds, making it my new favorite lullaby.
“I’m going to come, baby,” she pants at me, and my pace picks up as we both come. Her pussy pulsates around my cock, making sure it gets every drop of me.
Falling on top of her, I kiss her chest, right above her heart, feeling it beat wildly. Before I lean up, my hand trails down her stomach, stopping on her scar. Immediately, Rowan sits up and pushes my hand away; the look on her face has shifted from contentment to anger. And in that second, I wish I could take my roaming fucking hand back up her body, not touching her scar. Even though she hates it, I love it. It’s a part of her, her story of survival. Who this Rowan is now, the one I’m madly in love with. But to her, it’s a forever reminder of the night all was stolen from her. I get it, but to me, it’s a badge of survival and tribulations.
I smile weakly at her. “It’s a part of you, my love,” I tell her softly.
“It’s a part of my fucking nightmare, Luca. It’s a daily reminder of everything that was taken from me. A reminder of what the fuck I lived through.”
I interrupt her. “Exactly! A reminder of what you lived through. Of whom you are now.” I keep contact with her while my hand traces down her ribs, and down. Her eyes watch my hand as her breathing becomes erratic until she stops breathing altogether. When I trace my finger on the scar around the star, the angry lines are darker than her skin and bulging.
“Breathe, baby,” I tell her as I watch a tear escape, rolling down her cheek. I lean up and lick it off. All the while, my dick still nestled inside her.
“I love you. And I love it. Unlike them, this doesn't soil you. This makes you a survivor. This is a fucking badge of survival, Killer. And nothing to be ashamed of, especially when it comes to me.”
I reach out and grab her shoulders, bringing her to me, holding her tightly, as she cries silently. Her heart beats in rhythm with mine. “I’m so proud of you,” I whisper into her ear. Pulling out of her, I step back and place a kiss on her scar.
Chapter Nine
Rowan
The house is quiet—too quiet for my liking. Usually, there is some noise happening. Be it Luca in the gym with his music blaring or the guys randomly popping up and turning our house into their own sports stadium.
I lie on the sofa as Roxy lies on top of me; she thinks she’s a lap dog that’s almost one hundred pounds.
Luca had a job and took off yesterday morning. I’ve only got one text from him, letting me know he made it safely. I know I won’t get any more contact until he walks through that door. He’s been on a few jobs since we’ve been together, and it never gets easier. My anxiety is through the roof as I have to force Roxy off me so I can do something to keep my mind busy.
I could go for a run, but I’ve already done that today. You’d think being out in the middle of nowhere, I’d be a little scared, but if anything, I feel so safe and forgotten by the outside world. This home has become my safe space.
I walk through the house, my hands idle, needing to do something, as my feet take me to Luca’s office. I creak the door open, peeking in like I’m fixing to be caught. My hands roam the mahogany wood of Luca’s desk, remembering the night he fucked me on it, and how it ended. My scar feels like it’s on fire just by remembering it. Which is stupid; it’s all in my head. It’s a scar, not a fucking limb.
I sit in Luca’s chair, feeling small behind the enormous desk.
His desk is anything but organized, which is weird for him. But I guess he works best in chaos. He needs the mess to fix. Once he gets home, the desk will be put back into order until the next job—a symbolic reference to what he does for others.
Luca keeps nothing locked in here from me. Everything is open; he has nothing to hide, as I go through the cabinet, being nosy.
Not finding anything interesting, I get up and go to his bookshelf; it takes up one whole wall. Books and files. I roam the books and stop at a file. Pulling it out, I stop breathing when I see a picture of me working in the coffee shop. My face is drawn, my eyes are dark. And I know this was before I met Luca, when I was barely surviving, just breathing when I didn’t even want to do that.
I flip through the file. It’s nothing I don’t already know or haven’t seen before, but I wonder why he still has it. Placing it back on the shelf, I continue down until one sticks out. My eyebrows draw up when I see the name. This file is huge; the weight has more to do with me than what's in the manila folder. David Arlo, my father’s name, appears in red ink. I drop it like it’s on fire; the papers are scattering all over the floor. Standing still above them like their snakes ready to strike at the smallest movement, I look down on them, not really knowing if I want to look at what lies on those sheets. My father is the reason for this that happened to me. My father, the one man who was supposed to protect me with every fiber of his being, is the one who sold me to the devil.
My hands shake as I bend down and pick up the papers. Not looking at what’s on them, still. Hurriedly placing them into the folder, shoving it back on the shelf, breathing frantically before I run out of the room. I feel a panic attack coming on. My chest begins to feel tight, and my airway seems like it’s closing. As I turn the corner, Roxy meets me, her eyes following my everymove. Running down the stairs and out the front door, the evening air welcomes me, trying to cleanse me of the negativity I was just holding in. I can’t suck in enough air as I pant outside. Leaning over, hands on my knees, sucking in air that doesn’t feel like it’s filling my lungs.
“Fuck,” I mutter as I remember the cameras surrounding the outside. As I right myself, closing my eyes, I turn around and enter the house. Not needing Luca to know something is up. As I shut the door, my back lies against it as I slide down, falling onto my ass. I hear the door’s lock engaging automatically after a few moments, before Roxy trots to me, lying down and putting her head in my lap. I sit there petting her, calming down my panic until it subsides as much as it can.
I’m not sure how long we sit there, but once I finally get up, my ass is numb. I feel like I’m walking in a haze as I make my way to the kitchen. I want to feel numb. The only way to do that is with a bottle of wine. Pouring myself a glass, I drink it without even tasting the flavor. My only need is to drown the feelings down, but the alcohol does the opposite. On my third glass, I’m pissed. Forgoing the glass, I grab what’s left in the bottle, and my feet lead me upstairs. Standing in the office threshold, bottle swaying from my hand, I want to stop myself, but I know I won’t. I need to see what’s on those papers.
Placing the wine bottle on the floor, I pull out the folder and drop to the rug.
