To Burn In Brutal Rapture

by Nyla K

  We make the five-minute walk down to the water, holding hands and being adorable. I’m shaky with anticipation as we wander along the shore. Lazarus takes his shoes off and trots into the water, so I follow his lead, groaning at how warm it is.

  “I love it here,” he says. “Whoever picked St. Thomas is a genius.”

  I laugh out loud. “Why, thank you. I knew this would be the best place for us to start our new life.”

  “Excuse me?” His head tilts in my direction, a soft smirk covering his lips. “St. Thomas was one-hundred percent my idea.”

  “Yea, but I suggested the Virgin Islands,” I lift my brows at him.

  “Mhm… There are a few of them,” he rumbles. “And I picked the best one.”

  “That you did, smartass.”

  I splash him with water and he gasps, outraged. “You’re going down, little trickster.”

  Before I can react, he bends and scoops me up into his arms, charging deeper into the water with my body slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. I squeal out loud and he laughs, submerging us in the calm water.

  “We’re still in our clothes, you psycho!” I cackle, flailing about in the water until he grabs me by the waist.

  “Let’s fix that then.” He tugs his shirt over his head and tosses it toward the shore.

  Then he removes mine, doing the same, holding me up on his frame by my ass.

  “You’re especially beautiful beneath the moonlight,” he brushes his soft lips over mine.

  I feel his words, rippling through my insides, like the water we’re swimming in. Pulling me closer, his leer sets on my mouth before lifting to mine. He looks like there’s something he wants to say, but is holding it back. The gray in his eyes darkens, his fingers grazing over my neck.

  I’m still desperate for everything he wants to give me, even after all this time. I’m purely addicted to this man, in every facet of myself. The idea that he could ever marry me is like an intoxication for my soul.

  Love drunk takes on a new meaning with Lazarus Weston.

  I witness the mound of his Adam’s Apple bob in his throat as his fingers drift to the tie at the nape of my neck. He tugs it until it slips off, revealing my breasts, just beneath the water. He sucks in a breath, then I feel his hands doing the same to the bottom of my bikini.

  In a matter of seconds I’m fully naked, in his arms, in the clear teal waters. He lifts me a bit and I lean back, floating on my back, holding onto him by just my ankles around his torso. My breasts peek out of the water, nipples tightened into buds in the cool air. The excitement of being exposed like this makes me throb.

  Releasing my hold on Lazarus, I float, gazing up at the moon and the stars, ingrained in a black sky so vast, like endless velvet and sparkles. I can feel Lazarus’s heated gaze on my body, which sheets my skin with goosebumps.

  His hands slide up the backs of my legs, under the water, touching subtly while he watches me, groping my ass and pushing my front above water until even my pussy is visible. My cheeks flush, and my instinct is to look around to make sure no one’s watching. But then I realize that I don’t really care.

  The only eyes I care about are already here. Stormy gray clouds of lust, watching closely.

  I can hear him growling beside me and it clenches my inner walls with the need to have him. To always have him.

  “Will you always be mine, Tracien?” His voice rumbles from my side and I glance at him, stunned at his replicating my inner monologue. I’m quiet for a moment until he cocks a brow. “Will you?”

  “Yes,” I answer fast. “You know I will.”

  This time he stays silent for a beat. “Even though I’m older than you…?”

  “What does that mean?” My tone gives away my confusion.

  “You’re only nineteen, Traci,” he speaks easily, sounding so casual, though I know him better than that by now. He puts on that unaffected act, but I can tell when he’s serious about things.

  Like right now.

  “What if you outgrow me?” His voice shakes slightly. It would be imperceptible to anyone but me. And it makes my heart ache.

  “Lazarus, if you don’t know by now that this isn’t just a crush, then I don’t know what to say to you…” I mutter, moving to sink back into the water, to cover up the insecurities, most of which are beneath the surface of my skin. But he stops me, holding my body in place, keeping me floating on the surface of that water.

  “What if you want… kids?” He watches me, and I return the look.

  “I don’t,” I whisper.

  “Yea, not now. But you’re so young, Tracien. That’s my point.”

  I consider his words for a moment.

  I’ve never wanted children. It’s just not something I’ve ever seen for myself. But he has a point. What if in five or ten, or fifteen years I change my mind?

  “You don’t want kids?” I ask, nervous as all hell.

  We’ve never had this conversation before. I’ve mentioned to him in passing that I don’t want kids, but he’s always just looked at me like I’m a kid myself when I do; and he’s the adult who knows damn well that people can always change.

  He’s forty, after all. He’s lived for twenty-one years more than me. And we know he’s familiar with the ways people can change…

  “I don’t think so,” he gives me wide, apologetic eyes. “I used to think about it, since I never had parents. It would be nice to give a child the upbringing I didn’t have. But honestly, I just don’t know if that’s me, Traci.”

  The words, and the tone with which he speaks them, sink into me. I allow my mind to wade in these waters as I try to picture myself, pregnant. I try to imagine myself raising a baby. Holding it and teaching it, and loving it…

  It’s an abstract idea; a subjective fantasy, and if I’m being honest, it doesn’t give me all the warm and fuzzies I’m sure it’s supposed to.

  But thinking of being with Lazarus forever and then imagining not being with him…

  It causes my heart to race with fear. My vision blurs, and I think it’s because I’m crying. I don’t want him to see me getting all blubbery, but there’s no way to hide it. I choke back the tears and reacquaint myself with reality.

  Having a baby is only something I would want if Lazarus is the father. But the thing is that I want him more than I want to have a child. Maybe it sounds weird to some people, but I don’t give a fuck about that. I’ve never cared about being like everyone else.

  Lazarus looks at me like he’s crumbling apart before his face aims down at the water we’re in.

  “I’m sorry, Trix… I don’t want to disappoint you. And I don’t want you to give up on a life you may want for me. I love you too much to do that.”

  “Lazarus, stop,” I huff, fighting against his hands and lowering myself back into the water, wrapping myself around him. My fingers hold his jaw while he gapes at me. “I don’t want that life. I never will. I know it.”

  “Traci -”

  “Shut up for a second,” I grin, and he blinks through his amusement. “If we had kids, I would love them. I know I would, with all my heart. But only if we did it together. I don’t need children, Lazarus. I need you.”

  He exhales softly and before he can start arguing again like the pain in the ass he is, I kiss him. Gently, yet with enough force to make him groan into my mouth. I love the taste of that sound.

  We kiss into a stupor, holding each other close in the water, lips melded together in such passion that I never want to stop.

  “Just so you know,” he grunts in between licking my lips and my tongue. “I’m not saying never…”

  Something about the way he says this tightens my chest and makes my heart leap behind my ribs.

  “I don’t care either way,” I mewl. “As long as I have you.”

  He releases a ragged sound and in less than ten seconds, he’s inside me.

  Fucking me in his arms in the tropical ocean, beneath our moon.

  “God…” Lazar
us hums as his eyelids droop shut.

  “Mmm,” I bite my lip, watching his sexy face.

  “Stop teasing me,” he demands, though it comes out breathy and desperate, which I absolutely love.

  The tone of his voice alone right now is enough to make my insides quake. But the visual? And knowing I’m controlling his pleasure… I could probably come without anything even touching me.

  “But I love torturing you like this,” I smirk, swirling the object in my hand around a little more until he’s panting. “I’m probably going to come just from watching you.”

  “Don’t you dare,” he growls, trying to writhe himself closer, but I’m onto his game. “I want you coming on my cock. Hard.”

  “Yes, sir,” I purr, then give a nice little push.

  He bites his lip to cover up the whine that’s so damn hot, I have to give him a little more. Just an inch, unable to actually see what I’m doing, because I’m sitting astride his hips with my arm behind me, guiding our toy into him slowly.

  He groans as I feed in more until his back arches off the bed and I grin. He fucking loves this, and if it’s possible, I think I love it even more. We all know there’s a direct correlation between Laz’s pleasure and my own, and this is a prime example.

  When the toy gets to the halfway mark, I run my other hand up the length of his erection, feeling the veins throb beneath my palm. It’s rock solid, and long, stretched up to his navel. I love watching how hard this makes him, the initial penetration prompting a bead of pre-cum to drip from his head. My mouth is watering at how badly I want it pulsing down my throat while I fuck his ass with every inch of this silicone thing.

  “Traci…” His head is titled back, throat exposed, just waiting for me to lick and suck, and bite it. His skin is already decorated with the leftovers of a few little purple marks I made the other day.

  I just can’t help it. I love marking him. I want the world to know he’s taken.

  By me. Mine.

  “Yes, Lazarus?” I hum, leaning over him to press my lips to that warm flesh, shoving more of the dildo into him until his whole body shudders.

  “Sit on my cock,” he rasps, gripping the sheets of our bed in his fists. “Now, Little Trick. I want all the way inside that gorgeous body while I’m feeling this…”

  Releasing a soft moan, I position myself over his massive dick, not having to be asked twice. It takes some coordination, but I make sure to thrust the toy just right as I sink down onto his many inches, putting pressure on that spot that turns him into big, growling, tattooed ball of need.

  “Fuck me… Jesus…” He’s breathless as I rise a bit, slowly working his cock inside my walls, matching the tempo of my hand.

  The fingers of my other hand frantically take in the feeling of all the hard planes of his torso, nails scratching his chest and abs, tracing all the lines of muscle. I glance down to watch his body, covered in ink and almost visibly trembling under me while I ride him and fuck him. Owning him, because he’s mine.

  “I’m gonna come soon,” I tell him honestly, my walls gripping his thickness as I move on my knees, using my hips and thighs to grind him into the mattress, while my right hand pumps behind me.

  Deeper and harder until it’s at the base and he sounds like he’s falling apart.

  “Trix… fuck fuck fuck, you’re gonna make me come…” His hands finally release their grip on the blankets and come up to cup my breasts. He pinches my nipples between his thumbs and index fingers as I cry out loud. “Fuck me, baby. Just like that… God, you’re fucking lethal.”

  “I love you,” I gasp as my hand comes up to his throat.

  Our eyes lock, intense gray meeting shimmering blue.

  “You have no idea how much I love you…” he grunts, then his eyes roll back, and I know he’s about to erupt.

  “Baby, I need to taste you.” I hop off him quick.

  Lazarus peers down at me with hooded lids, watching as I scramble to get his giant dick in my mouth, sucking hard.

  “Jesus, Traci.” His voice is hoarse and strained as he wraps my dirty blonde hair around his fist, holding me in place. “Make me fucking come…”

  I moan on his dick, sliding it deep while I push and push and push into him until he roars, erupting long pulses of cum all in my mouth and throat.

  “I love you… I fucking love you, Traci. Fuck yea, baby, swallow me. I love you… so… fucking… hard.”

  The pain of him gripping my hair makes me dizzy while I whimper on his cock, swallowing every last drop before sucking up his length when I know he’s done. He releases me as I gently remove the dildo, unable to keep myself from watching in fascination. It prompts him to let out a choked purr of a noise before he melts into the bed.

  I fucking love making him like this. It’s like taming a lion. Seeing my massive, muscled up, tattooed scary man turn docile and subdued from something I did is the ultimate high. It turns me on more than anything else, and he knows that.

  Which is why he only allows himself ten seconds in his blissful daze before he grabs me hard and drags me to him, making me squeal. He grins a devious one, holding my calves up by my ears. Then he takes his still-hard cock in his hand, guiding it inside my pussy.

  “Fuck, Lazarus…” His name bursts from my shivering lips as he drops his forehead to mine, pumping into me, forcefully slow.

  Our chests press together, slick with sweat, the feeling on my sensitive nipples winding me up so tight, I’m immediately ready to fall.

  “You’re everything, Tracien,” he breathes over my mouth. “I want this forever. I want you… forever.”

  My heart pumps rapidly in my chest as I lace my fingers through his hair, holding him as close as possible without swallowing him up. He fucks me deep and hard, his movements filled with so much passion, my body unravels around him, like a thread being pulled.

  “Only you, Lazarus Weston,” I squeak, breathless and coming with him deep inside me.

  “I’m yours, baby,” he kisses my lips while I cry into his mouth, coming apart and binding together.

  My body latches to his while stars fall behind my eyelids, and I feel every single inch of him, everywhere. This is how it’s been with us, since the first time. And here we are, over a year later, different and yet somehow the same.

  Everything has changed since our first kiss; everything but my love for him. It’s still the same fantastic burning obsession it’s been since I was thirteen years old; effervescent and overpowering, like a meteor shower.

  He’s my first and only true love, and I’m just so grateful that somehow, despite all the chaos, destruction and sadness, fate allowed me to have him.

  Lazarus kisses my neck through his heavy breathing, pulling himself out of me and curling me up at his side. His dark lashes flutter down at me with wonder in his slate eyes, brushing hair out of my face.

  We end up staring at each other for minutes on end, while our heart rates regulate, fingers trailing over surfaces of one another in nothing but cherishing fascination.

  Eventually he drops a kiss on my nose then rolls away, stumbling off the bed to go to the bathroom.

  But he stops to call over his shoulder, “Meet me outside in ten? I want to look at the stars with you.”

  There’s something different in his tone; something serious that makes me sit up straight. It’s not unusual for us to watch the stars out back by the pool, but typically after particularly intense sex like we just had, the only things he wants to do are eat and cuddle.

  I simply nod at him, unable to shake the feeling that there’s something off. He stalks toward the bathroom without another word, and I let out a breath, flopping down on to the bed for a moment.

  Choosing to distract myself from overthinking, I get up and slip into a robe before heading downstairs. Lazarus is still in the bathroom as I make my way outside to the back, peering up at the night sky. It’s immediately clear why he wanted to do this.

  The moon is huge. Big, bright and hanging over m
y head, surrounded by stars and reflecting off the surface of the ocean mere yards away from our home. I have to take a moment to acknowledge on how blessed I am…

  Living where I do, with the man I’ve loved for so long. Blissfully happy.

  I hear movement behind me and I turn to see Lazarus approaching in only his boxer briefs. I still have to catch my breath when I see him like this.

  Because I still feel like I’m thirteen years old, standing in my kitchen at the old house, really seeing him for the first time.

  Seeing his beauty. His pain; his lost and damaged soul, beneath all those muscles and ink, black hair and stormy eyes.

  He still looks the same, and yet now his bruises and scrapes have been patched up, all the love he always wanted to give reflecting back at me when our eyes meet.

  He steps up to me, close enough that I can smell him, like sweet, musky sex, cinnamon and smoke. The smell that’s exclusive to him and has me unwittingly leaning closer to take in more. His face is serious, which isn’t abnormal, though he looks more tense than he usually is after we make each other come.

  His head tilts up to the sky, quietly observing the stars sprinkled through the blackness, with the moon watching over us. Then he wraps his left arm around my waist while the right remains rigid by his side. I rest my head on his chest and kiss the smooth flesh covering hard muscle.

  “It didn’t feel like this last time…” His voice is hushed. I almost can’t hear him. Glancing up, my forehead lines as I wonder what he’s talking about. “Not even close.”

  “What didn’t…?” I ask, suddenly shivering with nerves though I’m not sure why. “Last time what?”

  Lazarus looks down at me, his eyes alit with soft yearning. “Last time I did this, I wasn’t nervous. I wasn’t excited. I barely even gave a shit. It all just felt empty and forced. Many things used to feel like that for me… I spent so long going through the motions, never knowing what this could feel like.”

  He pauses and lets out a breath while my heart rocks so hard in my chest, I think he can probably feel it.

  “Tracien, when you kissed me, that first time, when you were… young,” he gulps the word before whispering, “I felt something.”