“I know,” she breathes.
“I have tortured.” I dip my lips down, brushing them against her neck. “I have killed.” Lifting her shirt with my free hand, my fingers skim up her side, my mouth tasting her collarbone, then trailing over the swells of her breasts. “And I’ll do both again, without ever regretting a thing. I enjoy them.”
Her legs tighten around my hips.
My hand releases her wrists, moving to cup her face, her skin soft beneath the pads of my fingers. My chest twists as my heart bangs against my ribs. “But I regret, with every fiber of my being, that for even one moment you suffered under my hands.”
Her eyes widen, the beautiful shades of brown glossing over.
“You are, without a doubt, the only good I’ve ever known.” I rest my forehead on hers, my shaky breaths ghosting across her lips, my thumb rubbing against her cheek. “So… don’t lie to me, Wendy, darling. Because my heart won’t survive it if you do.”
She surges up, her mouth colliding with mine, passion exploding on my taste buds. I moan as she wraps her limbs around me, my cock hardening as it rubs against her.
All of my turmoil is funneled into her instead of on the world, and I lose myself to the moment.
I reach for the neck of her shirt, jerking until it rips in two, exposing her nipples that are pink and hard and gorgeous. I suck one into my mouth, twirling the bud under my tongue as my hands strip the boxers down her legs.
She gasps, her back arching into me. My heart swells with the need to make her see. To show her how I feel because I’ve never been good with words. Not the ones that matter, anyway.
I want her to choose me.
Not because I demand it, but because she can.
My fingers dip between the folds of her cunt, slipping through the wetness.
I work my way down her torso with my mouth, kissing and nipping—apologizing with my tongue and my teeth for all the ways I’ve hurt her—for all the pain I know I’ve caused.
My face lands between her thighs, and I inhale deeply, the aroma of her arousal making desire coat my skin.
“Always so wet for me, pet.” I slip two fingers inside, watching as her tight walls suction around them. “You’re such a good girl. Do you know that?”
Her legs tremble as they spread wider, opening herself for me to feast. She gets off on the praise. Twisting her fingers in the strands of my hair, she tugs me forward. I go willingly, swirling her clit into my mouth, her taste exploding on my tongue. I groan, pressing my face into her deeper, wanting to drown in her essence until I feel her in my soul. I glide my fingers in, curling upward before easing them back out, then dipping them down lower, to coat a different opening with her arousal.
Her legs tighten around my head, and saliva collects in the front of my mouth. I rise up slightly, my hands pushing her thighs firmly apart until she’s split wide open and on display. I dribble the saliva, watching as it drips from my mouth onto the top of her pretty pink cunt, then slides all the way down, past her pussy, and farther down still until it finally drips onto the desk beneath us.
She shudders, and I smirk, my cock pulsing from the lewd vision. My finger presses into her slit, running down her labia until I reach the tight ring of muscle that’s now slippery and wet.
“Such a filthy girl, aren’t you?” I rasp, my stomach winding tight with desire. I suck her clit back into my mouth, swirling my tongue in a figure eight, my finger teasing around the rim of her asshole.
“Oh my god,” she keens.
I open my mouth wider, my saliva mixing with her juices, drenching her until it’s pooling on the desk.
“I don’t thin—”
“Shh,” I soothe. “Don’t think, pet. Just take it.”
I push the tip of my finger inside, making sure there’s enough lubricant to make it feel pleasurable instead of painful.
“Fuck,” she cries.
My mouth dives back in, tongue alternating from dipping inside her pussy to twirling around her clit. Unintelligible moans leave her mouth, her body jerking, and my free hand rises up, pressing down on the flat of her stomach.
When the staggered rise and fall of her breathing ceases, I know she’s close.
She’s holding her breath.
My finger dips in and out of her tight hole in tandem with my tongue in her cunt, my thumb pressing firm circles against her clit.
Her entire body starts to shake, and my eyes glance up, my cock jerking when I see the splotchy flush of her skin.
She opens her mouth on a silent scream, her body arching off the desk, and the inner muscles of her ass grip my finger like a vice.
I work her through her orgasm, drinking down her juices and groaning from her taste. The shaking turns to trembles, and I slowly lick my way up her body until my lips press against her ear. I slip out of her ass until just the tip of my finger is pressing against it.
“One day,” I whisper. “I’m going to take you here. Feel your muscles milk the cum from my cock while you pleasure that sweet little cunt.”
She sucks in a breath, her eyes wild and her cheeks ruddy.
“Would you like that?” I whisper, rubbing my nose along her cheek.
Her hands reach out and grip my face, pulling me toward her. And then she licks her juices from my mouth, her eyes heavy-lidded as she moans at the taste.
My insides clamp tight, my length jerking.
She moves her touch from my jaw as her tongue slips between my lips, her palms sliding down to grapple with my belt buckle. I help speed up the process, stripping off my pants until my cock springs free, thick and engorged, dripping with the need to be inside her.
Her fingers move to my shirt, and I freeze, my hands shooting to cover hers, not wanting her to see the imperfections of the past marring my skin.
“It’s okay,” she says. She sits up until her face is level with mine, the flat of her palm resting on my chest, directly over my heart. “I’m not pretending.”
I breathe in deeply, my emotions running haywire, fear flooding my veins as she slowly undoes my shirt, one button at a time, until she slides her hands underneath the sleeves, the fabric slipping off my skin. I stand stoic, my jaw set, bracing myself for what I know she’s about to see.
She scoots closer, her legs wrapping around my hips, nestling my cock against her center. “James,” she whispers.
The name rolling off her tongue undoes me, something warm and needy exploding through my chest. I raise my arms, allowing her to lift my undershirt and toss it to the side.
And then I wait.
Her fingers trail over my torso, and I chance a glance down, terrified to see the look of pity on her face.
But I don’t.
Her gaze is wide and open as she touches every scar, many of them from the nights my uncle decided to nick my skin, knowing the sight of my blood caused terror to paralyze me in place.
My heart pumps erratically in my chest. Her hand ghosts along my hip, the jagged line searing up my side, burning from her touch.
“What happened here?” she asks.
I grit my teeth. “Plane crash.”
Her eyes glance to mine, and then she leans in and presses her lips to the mark. My lungs squeeze, my throat swelling from the gesture. I want to tell her that she’s kissing the scar her father helped create, and that somehow, with just her touch, she’s eased the pain.
But I don’t know how, so I pull her face up to my mouth instead, and I show her with my body.
I suck her breath into my mouth, slamming her back on the desk, my shaft slipping between the folds of her pussy and creating a friction that has my stomach tensing, pleasure pricking along my spine.
“Say it again,” I speak against her lips.
“Say what?”
“My name.” I grind into her, heat spreading through every cell.
Her eyes roll back as the tip of my length presses against her clit. “James,” she breathes.
My cock slides inside in one thrust, all the way to the hilt.
We gasp simultaneously, the feel of being surrounded by her overwhelming every sense. I’m afraid if I move, I’ll explode, and I want this to last forever.
Slowly, I ease out before pushing back in, the power of my hips matching the surge of my emotion, making me delirious with the need to get as deep as I can.
I lean down, my tongue licking along the shell of her ear. “You’re so perfect. Feel so fucking good.”
She groans, her fingernails digging into my shoulder as her hips rise to meet mine.
There is no exchanging of power here, no demand for obedience or a need to keep everything under my control.
There’s just Wendy.
Only ever Wendy.
Doing what she does best; consuming every part of me.
My torn-up heart rattles against its blackened cage, beating just for her, hoping she’ll learn to love it through the dirt.
“Again,” I demand.
“James,” she moans.