His gaze remains on the mutilated tallies. “They’re old.”
Clearing my throat, I mumble, “I stopped a few years ago after discovering other… destructive habits.”
He nods.
He’s not asking me why. Does he not want to know? He’s probably freaking the fuck out.Why isn’t he asking?
Before I can spiral into a panic attack, he lowers between my legs and—
Lips whisper over one of the raised lines.
I’m going to shatter all over again.
Remy kisses every single one, giving extra attention to the larger, darker scars. Uncontrollable tears slip from the corners of my eyes, but I don’t dare wipe them. As painful as this is, I refuse to break the spell.
Against my inner thigh, he whispers. “The next time you feel like hurting yourself, please come to me.”
Wet hazel eyes bore into mine.
“Ok,” I rasp. “I’m sorry.”
His nostrils flare. “Don’t apologize. I know this can’t be easy to share.”
I don’t even notice my staccato breaths until he’s covering me with his body again, hushing me and peppering little kisses all over my face between whispers of, “You’re ok, I’ve got you,” and, “You’re so strong, baby.”
Once I’ve calmed down a little, I seek his lips with my own. I need to lose myself in him and forget how vulnerable I feel. How exposed I am, like he’s opened up my heart and seen the damage.
I guess, in a way, he has.
But he’s still here, kissing me back, and touching me everywhere. His weight drops, his rigid length digging into my hip. Feeling him hard even after witnessing my scars rekindles my arousal. He must notice me thickening because he shifts to grind our cocks together.
“I need you out of those jeans,” I pant into his mouth.
He tugs on my bottom lip. “Mmm, not yet, sweet thing.”
My cock jumps, making him smirk as he nips my jaw.
His hand skims my figure as he slinks lazily toward my throbbing erection. I suck in a sharp breath at the sudden tight grip on my shaft. He bites his lip on a groan while his thumb toys with the piercing under my crown.
Whimpering, my eyes roll back.
“I can’t stop thinking about this,” he murmurs, massaging around the metal on an upstroke. Precum weeps from my slit. He smears it over my cockhead and I moan.
“You like that?”
“Yes.”
He repeats the motion, attentive to the sounds coming out of me as he picks up the pace and leans toward my dripping cock. His pretty lips are right there. I buck up into his fist, my balls aching with the need to release.
A puff of humid breath fans my tip.
Right. There.
I’m about to thrust when a blush rises in his cheeks.
“I don’t have much… experience,” he admits, “Like at all, other than that one time with you.”
“Thank fuck, or I’d have to murder someone.”
