“What would you do for me, Luca?” I don’t need to ask him because I know what he’d do for me. He’s killed for me. He’s loved me in my darkest times… Fuck, still in my dark times. But I want to hear his words.
“I’d give up this existence for you.”
I know he would, but I don’t want that. My existence doesn't matter if he isn’t here.
“Would you give up thinking about me being easy to hurt? Stop treating me like I’m breakable. Fuck me like you want to. Use me any way you want.” Each word comes out in a pant. Needing him to do all of that. Wanting him to. The ache between my legs needs him to.
He moans, “Yes.” And without warning, he’s wrapped around me, lifting me. I wrap my legs around his waist as our mouths slam together, teeth clanking, but ignoring it. Devouring the other. My moans float onto the treetops, swept away by the slight wind. A lullaby for the dead.
We’re frenzied as we kiss, my hands pulling at his shirt, scratching his back. When I am slammed against a hard object. My hand releases his shirt, flying back to find purchase, feeling the engraving on the rough stone, knowing it’s the monument that sits in the middle of the cemetery. It’s old, weathered by time, and beautifully gothic.
Luca’s hand grazes my face, his thumb roughly rubbing my cheek before he pulls back. “I’m going to fuck you in this cemetery. I want you to scream so loud you’ll wake the fucking dead, Rowan.” His eyes are full of wanting.
Nodding, I finally get my mouth to work. “Yes.” It is all I can manage before we’re connected once again. His hand unwraps my leg from around his waist, and I’m slowly lowered to the ground below.
“Take off your clothes,” he directs me, stepping back a few feet, watching.
I feel like I have layers on, and it takes forever to get each one off, but in reality, my hands keep fumbling trying to remove them. The excitement coursing through me. He and his words promising me something I want so badly.
Finally removing my panties, I stand in the cemetery naked, panting and watching him watch me. He's quiet as he takes myshadowed kissed body in. With each breath, my breasts rise and fall, my nipples hard from his stare and the chill in the air.
Barely closing the gap between us. He brings his hand to his mouth, spitting on it. Bending down nose level to my pussy, using his other hand, he taps my ankle, wanting me to spread them, and I do.
“Ahh, fuck.” My head falls back to the stone behind me when his spit coats my pussy from clit to opening. “Goddamn,” I mutter out to him, my head falling to look down at him, and he’s staring up at me, a wicked smile on his face. Without warning, his fingers enter me, roughly, scraping my canal, but in the best way possible, the pain makes me moan. Sucking in hard, releasing my breath, I spread my legs even wider apart as he fingers fucks me. I want to ride it, but he places his other hand on my hip, his fingers splayed over my scar. He lightly rubs it. I bite my lip. The feeling of him pleasuring me and showing attention to my branding is something that’s hard to comprehend. I want him to stop, but I don’t. This is me. That branding is mine. It’s my war scar, a story forever on my body, and he shows it love, even when I hate its existence. But it’s mine. My survival of monsters made of men.
I look at Luca and smile, grinding onto his fingers, wanting them in me as far as they can go. Loving the stretch of them.
He leans into my slight dusting of pubic hair, breathing in. “If you could smell yourself, fuck, baby. My mouth is salivating.” I feel his wet tongue slide over my clit, flicking it. The feeling makes me shiver; goosebumps take over my skin. A reaction only to Luca.
Slowly removing his fingers, I cry for him not to stop. “No, keep going,” I beg.
“Get on your knees,” he tells me before licking his fingers clean of my juices, standing at his full height, hovering over me.
Licking my lip, I ease down to the hard ground, all my weight going onto my knees, biting into the bits of rock and decaying trees.
“Perfection,” he praises me, and my back becomes straighter with his words.
His zipper being undone echoes in my ears. “Crawl to me, Rowan.” Freeing his dick, he rubs it roughly.
With cautious movements, minding the unseen small rocks, I make my way to his boot-clad feet. He looks down on me, his eyes half hooded. My tits sway as his hand meets my head, rubbing it. And I’m like a cat, pushing into its master's hand, wanting more.
“Spit on it.” He strokes his cock. I lean up on my knees, enjoying the bite of rocks digging into my skin, adding an enjoyable sting as I pucker my lips together, sucking my slobber to the front of my mouth, before I part them, spitting on his dick, as he rubs his shaft, spreading the spit from the tip to his base. Dropping his head down, moaning as he jerks, increasing in speed. “Keep your mouth open.” His eyes sear into me.
And I do, with my tongue out, ready for whatever he’ll give me.
His free hand tightens around my hair, jerking my head back, positioning me just right. “Rub your tits,” Luca groans down to me.
I do more than rub them; I press them together while twisting my nipples. Wishing it were his mouth and teeth. The sharp pain has me hissing, but I don’t let up. Wanting it. All the while, my mouth still open and waiting.
“That’s it, baby, just like that. I wish you could see yourself right now. Fucking sexy,” he grunts out, his motion becoming more feverish. “I’m going to cum down your throat.”
I can’t speak, but I moan with approval, letting him know I want it. Fuck, I more than want it; I need it.
Warm liquid lands on my outstretched tongue, some hitting my chin and lips.
“Fucking masterpiece.”
I close my mouth, swallowing his cum, the tang hitting the back of my throat. Using my finger to wipe my chin, bringing it to my open mouth, and sucking it off. Savoring the taste of Luca.
