I’m his.
“Fuck, yesss.” His knuckles whiten with an iron grip as he relentlessly flogs himself.
My legs part of their own accord, wanting to give him all of me.
“Please, D. Collar me with your cum. Make me yours.” I don’t know where the words come from, only that they are spoken from somewhere deep within me. Somewhere raw and real.
DiAngelo roars as his release seizes him. Jets of hot cum shoot onto my chest, claiming me. Marking me in a way eyes can never see, but I will always know is there.
He inches forward, chest heaving, and begins to drag his heavy cock through the sticky globs on my chest, painting me his.
It’s done.
This thing between us is now an unspoken pact that can never be unwritten. Whether he knows it or not, I have handed over a piece of my mottled and scarred heart. What if he examines my offering and changes his mind after seeing the extent of the damage?
The possibility hits me like a wrecking ball.
Not just a possibility—he will see what a mess I am. How could he ever feel the same about me after that?
My lungs collapse in on themselves.
I need to escape so he doesn’t see me fall apart, yet if I do, he’ll know something’s wrong.
Tell him. Tell him now and get it over with.
My lips remain sealed. I can’t do it. I can’t force out the words that will destroy the way he sees me.
D releases my hands, then leans in and places a reverent kiss on my lips. “Stay there.”
I watch him cross to the kitchen and wet some paper towels before returning to gently clean off my chest. Only after he’s wiped away all physical traces of himself from my body does he tend to himself. After he’s done, my skin is heated and raw from the scrape of the paper towel. I cling to the feeling so that when the red irritation fades, the memory of his touch will remain.
This won’t end well. You need to go. Go now.
I can’t. If I can just hold on a little longer…
D has me stand and helps right my dress, zipping me in. “As much as I’d prefer to keep you naked at all times, we both need to eat, and that will never happen with such a distracting temptation.”
He has me sit in my own chair this time, though he ensures we’re no more than an inch apart. We eat from the same plate. He feeds us both. I desperately try to keep it down.
The room slowly shrinks around me, pressurizing the air. I don’t have the capacity to wonder if he feels it, too. Every ounce of my focus is concentrated on acting normal. Buying time.
The moment I feel an escape is viable without drawing suspicion, I seize the opportunity.
“I think I’m gonna go rinse off,” I say lightly.
“You okay?”
I plaster the happy mask I’ve worn so many times before on my face and smile. “Yeah, just still feel a little sticky.”
He studies me for a second, then nods. “I’ll get this cleaned up. You go.”
He doesn’t have to tell me twice.
CHAPTER 42
TERINA
Present
