My eyes travel up her body, devouring each and every inch of her like it’s my last meal, and she’s the most mouthwatering thing I’veever seen.
Jesus.
Fucking.
Christ.
There’s not a word in the English language that could encapsulate just how stunning she is.
The lace hemline of the silk skirt teases up the side of her thighs, exposing creamy white skin beneath fishnet tights. Black gloves hug her arms and stop around her bicep. The leather corset has pushed her tits up to the point where her nipples are almost peaking over. My fingers twitch with the need to unlace her so her tits can go where they rightfully belong: in my hands and mouth. I’m going to have a hard-on the entire night if she walks around looking like this.
A black ribbon is tied around her neck, and even though neither of us has a religious bone in our body, two rosary beads drape over her collarbones and hang between her cleavage. My lips tug into a smile because her accessories are just things she’s stolen from the school. Her copper strands are styled into messy, blown-out waves, making the thick smudge of kohl around her eyes seem more unhinged.
My allowance has never been better spent.
Her scarlet-painted lips turn up into a saccharine smirk. “You stole my look.”
It causes physical pain to look away from her and down at my suit. The lace pattern on her dress is identical to the fabric off my lapels. Instead of a tie, like her, I’ve opted for rosary beads and a chain. The best part? The little blunt cut of hair.
We’re a match made in hell.
Blaze nods at the cross hanging over my chest. “Won’t you accidentally get exorcised wearing that, or are your demons built in?”
“I plug into mine,” I drawl, feeling my dick harden as I get lost in the way she looks.
I want to put her in thirty different positions and fuck her in each one. I’ve never been a man of God, but I would get down on my knees and worship her until the day hell takes me. She’s radiating feral energy, and I want to consume every last drop.
The best part? She’s all mine.
The closer I look, the more I notice the flaws in how she’s put herself together, and it turns my stomach into tight knots. No amount of makeup can hide her sunken eyes or the purple hues beneath them. Blaze can spend hours in the bathroom; it won’t make the blues of her eyes any less drained. The dress is ever so slightly crooked, dots of mascara are scattered over her eyelids, and there’s a barely noticeable uneven line on her black eyeliner. The patch of blue and purple along her chin and shoulder has seemingly vanished beneath the makeup.
Then my eyes drop to the gloves hiding the bloody bruises along her hands, and realization turns my knuckles white. That’s why Blaze was taking so long.
One day, she’ll figure out how to ask for help.
This woman, who’s all hard edges and burning rage, is covered in scars inside and out. Some of the wounds are still gaping, bleeding a sea of red as she holds her head up as if the world isn’t out to get her. She’s the strongest person I know, and I want to spend every day making sure she sees it too.
My brows knit together as I eye the reflection glinting off her gloved fingers. Three silver rings decorate them. A chunky bracelet that’s too big for her sits on her wrist, threatening to fall off with the slightest movement. When the fuck did she steal that from me? Iknow for a fact I was wearing those when I walked into her bedroom three hours ago.
Blaze raises her middle finger, where a black sapphire ring sits proudly against her black gloves. “What do you think of my new ring? The previous owner didn’t take care of it very well.”
“Give it back.”
She looks good wearing me.
Blaze drops her arms to her sides after wincing partway through crossing them. “You said I could keep it if I steal it.”
“Only if you’re my date,” I point out.
“Yeah. That’s going to be a hardnofrom me.” Her lips twist into a coy smirk as she attempts to saunter toward me, but it comes across as an awkward limp instead. Still, ten out of ten. It worked. I’m hard.
“A girl like me is in hot demand.”
My dick deflates.
“If you walk in there with anyone but me, their family won’t have a say on whether they get cremated or buried.”
She moves around the pile of shoes in the corner with the balls of her injured foot. “Dead is most people’s best color anyway.”
