Scorch (Virtues & Lies Book 2)

by Alexandra Silva

  And I’m one hundred percent aware that people have more than one child. I never felt any less loved when Cassie was born. Throughout our entire lives, I’ve never felt less important or like there wasn’t enough affection for the both of us. I know it’s normal and possible to love more than one person at a time. But I’m so fucking scared of forgetting my little girl.

  All the little details that are so vivid yet feel like they’re one breath away from being forgotten.

  But you need an heir. You need a child. It’s your duty to carry on your family name.

  Even with my grandmother’s words replaying in my head, there is not one part of me that is as desperate to have another child as I am to keep the memories of the one we already had.

  Do you hear them talk about your grandfather? No, you don’t, Christopher. He’s dead, gone and to them forgotten. It’s the people that loved him that keep him alive. Us. His family. What will happen once you’re gone and forgotten? Who will keep you alive?

  I would sooner forget all there is to me. I’d lose myself completely, before I forgot or lost any of her.

  If there’s a choice to be made in any way, shape, or form…I will always choose my girls.

  Chapter 34

  Arabella

  The house is so old everything seems to creak in the silence of the night. The shadows of the snowflakes dot the dim darkness of the room, reflecting off the mirrors and fuzzing the light of the moon. It’s so low that it could be hanging right outside the windows.

  Something inside me tenses with every wince of the house. Every bluster that whistles past the window has my heart tripping over itself and beating a little faster. The stupid thing is that I’ve never been scared of the dark or even old buildings. But Christopher’s absence from our bed…it makes everything feel eerie. Everything feels wrong and lonely. All feelings I’ve had months to get to grips with, but just like all those months, I keep waiting for exhaustion to knock me out. I keep waiting for it to eclipse my fear and longing.

  With the moan of the floorboards outside the door, my whole body tenses. I hate being this weak and scared. But shadows and darkness are scars I’ll never be able to erase. They didn’t just break my heart and my body—they splintered my soul.

  Tucking myself deeper into the duvet, I pull it tighter around me as the door groans open and then shut one more time. The light from Christopher’s torch glows from all the mirrors around us, and just as I’m about to turn to look at him, his fingertips stroke down my face so softly it’s barely a whisper of his skin on mine.

  Closing my eyes, I savour his touch. I relish his warmth. The comfort of his affection.

  Christopher’s love for me is palpable. It’s not words or a feeling tangling my insides. I feel it heat my skin and seep through my pores. It blankets me from top to toe, inside and out. It flows through my bloodstream and steels my bones.

  His love for me is momentous. Inexplicable. Consuming. It’s awing in its magnitude.

  Stroking his thumb down the bridge of my nose, he lowers himself onto the edge of the bed, and my body rolls slightly into him. Bringing his lips to my temple, he presses a feather-light kiss before he whispers, “My everything.”

  There isn’t a single part of me that can doubt his words. Soft murmurs in the dark twine around my whole being. As he presses another kiss to my cheek, I turn, my lips taking his. With my hands trapped beneath the thick cover, I can’t hold on to him as tightly as I physically need to, but the enigmatic pull between us has him pressing lower and my body arching up to him.

  A groan vibrates down my body. I’m unsure of whether it’s his or mine. It fuels my need for him. All I can think of is how good his lips feel melding with mine. The heat of his body is an inferno I have no wish to part with, his kiss hot as hell as he licks into my mouth, his tongue swirling around mine with vodka-sweetened hums.

  I want to taste more of him.

  Wriggling impatiently out of the covers, I wrap my arms around his shoulders. Without a word he sits up, taking me with him. When we’re both sitting upright. Christopher cups my jaw. It’s a tender touch that breaks my heart some more. The dark distorts his features, making me wish for more light than that of the moon.

  I want to see all the things that make him mine. The things that only I see. Kneeling up, I shuffle closer to his side, until I’m close enough to straddle his lap.

  “I more than love you, morena.”

  “I more than love you, cariño.”

  Holding me tight, he sighs into my chest, nuzzling into me with light kisses to my erratic heart. His arms slip lower, over my waist to my hips, before he stands. I don’t have time to wrap my legs around him before he’s lowering me to the ground.

  My legs wobble as my feet touch the cool wood floor. The blizzard outside howls, and my insides tremble as Christopher takes a step back and then sits back on the edge of the bed.

  “Do you trust me?” he asks, his eyes shining monochrome with the light of the moon.

  The way they cling to the hem of my nightie makes my insides knot with anxiety even as I nod. “Yes.”

  “Show me.” It’s not exactly an order, but there’s weighted edge to his request.

  “No.”

  He thinks he wants to see. He thinks he wants to know. But once it’s there, you can’t unsee it. A taunting reminder of what we’ve lost.

  “Why?”

  Because I hate it.

  I wish I could peel my own skin off my flesh.

  It’s too terrible.

  Too ugly.

  Too real.

  “I can’t bear to look at it. I don’t want to.” My sharp words are dry and grated. I wish I could cry them because maybe then my tears would take some of the pain with them.

  His stare flicks up to mine. Hard and unflinching. It makes my toes curl and my chest strangle my insides. My arms wrap around me as he leans to the side and flicks the bedside lamp on.

  The golden light is dim, but it’s enough to blaze bright in his eyes.

  “Come here.”

  Shaking my head, I take the smallest of shuffles away from him, but when he stands, I freeze. Terror pulses in my veins. I know what will happen. He’ll get his way and then realise that he can’t bear to look at me either. He’ll realise that he’s stuck with my scars as much as I am. A reminder of my stupidity and everything we lost that night.

  “You’re wrong.” Standing over me, he brushes my short hair, tucking it behind my ears as he leans down to press a hard kiss to my lips. No tongue. No teeth. Only soft skin and hot flesh. “You should look at them and take power from every fucking inch. They’re a mark of your strength, precious girl.”

  Spinning me around, he tucks my back to his front as he walks us to one of the mirrored walls. I know what he’s about to do. Every single cell of my being begs me to run.

  My arms and legs scream at me to put space between us. But not only is his hold too strong to escape, but there’s an overwhelming sense of safety in his arms.

  Christopher has always made me feel cherished and safe. He’s always been my refuge in a world where people are quicker to see your flaws than your attributes.

  “Trust me.”

  My heart stampedes out of sync in my chest, leaving me almost incapable of holding myself up. “Once you see—”

  Our gazes meet in the mirror as he silences me with his thumb. I salivate at the saltiness of his skin as he presses my tongue down, to the well of my mouth.

  “I intend on spending the rest of my life looking at you, and I’ll be damned if I let you hide from me any longer.”

  His other hand slowly roves down my front, moulding to every dip and curve. Goose bumps break out over my skin. My breaths snag. Heat engulfs me from head to toe as his nails rake down one side of my hip past the lace hem of my silk baby-doll, and down to the middle of my fleshy thigh. My body vibrates in the shelter of his.

  “It’s not any of this that matters,” he says, grabbing and squeezing the fleshy tops
of my thigh. With his thumb still in my mouth, he curls his arm around me until I’m truly imprisoned in his hold. Quivering at the gentle stroke of his fingertips over my temple, I have no choice but to suck on his thumb in order to swallow the spit threatening to drool from my mouth.

  “It’s this that matters.” Christopher softly taps the side of my head. I’m so caught up in his taste and his heat…in the burning desire and reverence in his eyes, that I don’t notice he’s pulled up my nightie until he looks down. His hand bunches the loose silk over my thundering heart as he flattens it to my chest. “And this. Everything else, beautiful, is a shell. A shell I adore, but in no way does it define who you are to me.”

  Tears fill my eyes as he continues holding me. His heart drums into my back as he scours my belly. There’s no gasp or shock. It’s like he’s seen me like this a million times before. As though nothing has changed. Pressing me tightly to him with his hand on my chest, like he’s keeping me together, his thumb continues to stroke over my tongue, my teeth, and my lips before slipping down to my throat with a caress of my jaw.

  “You’re forever going to be the girl who brought me to my knees with a flutter of her lashes and the wickedness in her smile.” Looking back up, he searches my face. You’d think he’s trying to etch every part of my profile into his soul. “And one day when those lashes are almost gone and the wickedness becomes wisdom, I’m still going to worship that big and fierce heart I own. I’m going to live in that precious soul of yours. You and me, entwined in light years and history and forevers and eternities. Do you understand?”

  I can’t breathe. My breath is robbed by his perfect words, and my heart aches as it pulls itself together. The blood rushing through my veins burns as the tears stream down my face.

  With a nod, I swallow.

  “Good.” He smiles.

  In the mirror Christopher’s eyes glisten as he lets the silk slip back down my body before pushing the straps down my shoulders with scorching kisses and nibbles of my neck and collarbone. Guiding the thin, strings holding my nightie intact down my arms, he walks me closer to the mirror.

  When the liquid peach fabric puddles at my feet, he braces my hands on the mirrored wall. Then without flair or finesse he pulls his T-shirt off. A large pad stretches over his left shoulder with the faintest speck of blood coming through. Heat turns to ice, and as I try to turn to inspect his wound for myself, he holds me right where he wants me.

  “I’m fine,” he grunts dismissively as he pushes his joggers down and shucks them off messily.

  “You’re bleeding.”

  “I’m fine.” His insistence is coupled with his warm touch. “Relax, it’s a popped stitch from helping get my dad to his room. Nothing serious.”

  Nothing serious?

  “You were shot…protecting me.”

  “You were hurt protecting me,” he breathes into the crook of my neck as he watches me in the mirror. “I’ll do it all over again too.”

  The look in his eyes says there’s no doubt or qualms about his statement. It’s hard and unfaltering. It bores deep inside me like it will steal every thought I’ve ever had.

  However, his hands bracket my waist, fingertips caressing my skin in silent worship. They skirt around my scars, trailing up slowly and down softly.

  “You are the only valuable piece. You’re my whole life. My entire existence.” A hand flattens on my belly over the hem of my knickers. It’s so large that it almost runs from one hip to the other. Large enough that it covers the entirety of the Caesarean scar.

  His solid body presses into mine, moulding to my curves as heat builds between us. His breaths tickle my ear and my neck in the most tantalising way, making my skin sting with want and need. I’m shaking as I press my legs together, only for his to pry them apart as he cups my wet pussy.

  “Always so ready for me.” Peering up at me, he presses a finger to my entrance bluntly, circling and teasing as he continues holding me to him with the V of his free hand cupping my breast roughly. “Do you think I could make you come like this? Drip and gush down your legs until you’re begging for my cock on your knees?”

  Oh, Jesus.

  I’m ready to beg now with the way his words lick at my skin, fire blazing in my core, my orgasm begging to be torn from me.

  A whimper leaves my mouth as his finger presses harder, the lace of my underwear threatening to tear at his advance as he works my clit back and forth, again and again. Quivering, I try to steel my arms and legs, but as pleasure starts to buzz and soak through my knickers, he drags his finger back.

  Christopher stops short of my arsehole, massaging my hot flesh with tormenting strokes and groans. My arousal seeps through my underwear to my thighs, and with a thrust of his hard dick to the small of my back, he brings his finger back to my clenching pussy.

  “How wet can you get?” he asks, hand closing around my throat as my head falls back onto his chest.

  My throat swells with the pressure and my ramming heartbeat.

  “How wet can you make me?” I breathe out, looking at our mirrored reflection on the ceiling.

  “Is that a challenge, Mrs. Sinclair?”

  Fuuuuuck, the gravel in his voice with the throb of his dick at my back scrambles my head. I love the way his fingertips press into my jugular as he nips the top of my ear.

  “Feels like you’ve already risen to it, Mr. Sinclair.” Pressing my hands harder against the mirror, I rock back on the tips of my toes, nudging the hilt of his cock at the top of my arse.

  Fisting my knickers, he pulls them to the side before sliding his finger inside me. My body convulses around his thick digit with his strokes along the front wall slow and long.

  “Feel that?”

  A whimpering moan fills my mouth as his finger curls inside me. Sweat beads along my body as I spasm in his hand. My knees give, hands slip down our reflection, and he presses deeper as he adds another finger.

  “That’s your cunt begging me to fuck you raw.”

  “Fuck me, then.”

  “Not until you’re so wet, I can fucking drink your cum.”

  Toes curling, I fall back into him. Christopher chuckles, his thumb pressing to my clit as he slips his fingers from my pussy and plunges in again, adding another. The fullness. The friction. The fire coursing through my body overwhelms me.

  My muscles tense with the tight grip on my throat, and I am lost. My vision blurs as my eyes roll to the back of my head, and my moans pierce the silence of the night, breaking the stillness with the chaotic and euphoric tsunami of my orgasm.

  Christopher’s fingers impale me in place against him as he keeps me pressed to his chest by my neck.

  My body shudders against the ripple of his muscles as he thrusts his erection against my lower back before removing his fingers.

  The grip on my neck loosens as he lowers me to the ground at his feet, my orgasm running down my thighs.

  “Just think,” he chuckles as he steps in front of me, his cock barely contained in his grey boxer shorts. Pre-cum stains dark blotches on the stretchy cotton. “If I didn’t already have a plan for your mouth, I’d make you lick up all that mess.”

  His fingers pinch my chin, lifting my face to his. “Don’t worry, I won’t make you beg for my cock. I’m in a generous mood like that.”

  My knees slip in my puddled orgasm. I haven’t even managed to catch my breath. My pussy is still clenching, the pit of my stomach pulsing with the aftershocks of my pleasure.

  Light flickers with the flutter of my eyes. I don’t know what just happened, but my legs are weak, my arms are half-dead, and God my skin is so sensitive that I swear I can feel the shadows rippling over it.

  I’m in a trance as Christopher presses his thumb into my mouth, wedging it between my teeth as he traces my lips with his covered erection.

  The salty, musky scent of his arousal drowns my senses, my mouth watering until I’m sure I’m about to drool down myself.

  Dipping my tongue between my lips,
I trace the length of his dick. I hold on to his thighs as I bring myself up on my knees, until my tongue reaches the white elastic of his underwear.

  “Fuck,” he bites out as I claw his quads, keeping myself stable as I nip up the light trail of hair to his belly button. “Fuck, yeah.”

  Trailing my hands up his thighs, I lower myself back to his bulging cock, breathing out shaky breaths and inhaling in his strong, delicious scent. As soon as I find the top of his boxers, I roll them down, catching his leaking dick on my tongue. I suck the tip into my mouth, all the while dragging his underwear to his feet.

  Unlike what I thought, when he fists my short hair, the force is harder and tauter, the sting insanely good.

  Lowering to my haunches, I allow his crown to pop from my mouth. My hands come back up to cup his balls, and I flick my tongue over the throbbing vein at his root.

  As Christopher tugs my hair with more force, I rear back, spitting the water pooled in my mouth onto my hands before I fist his cock as hard as he fists my hair. Working it up and down, round and round. Up, down, twist and round. My tongue finds his balls as my thumb rounds his tip, smearing his pre-cum around and down his engorged length.

  When I press my other thumb to his taint, he shudders, muscles steeling as he hauls me up his body with a guttural growl.

  “I have a better idea.” His strained voice vibrates down my throat before he bites down roughly on my lip, sucking it hard into his mouth with the metallic tang that seeps between us.

  My stomach somersaults as he saunters back to the bed and sits with me on his lap. Shuffling higher up the mattress, he spins me away from him in a swift, effortless move. My back to his front, Christopher pulls me up his chest before he tips me forward, mouth perfectly aligned to his cock as he wraps his arms around my thighs. Leaning up, he licks up from my clit to my pussy with a moan that’s hungry and wanting, ready to devour every bit of my need for him.