by Keri Lake
I lift the pillow to see his bicep flexing in time to the slide of what I surmise is his finger inside of me. It curves higher, and I grip tight to the pillow, smashing it into my face again. I slide my toes across his back, digging them into his skin.
As he licks and sucks me, his finger pumps into me, all these sensations working in perfect tandem, like a machine.
His hand—the same hand that threw those vicious Ragers from the vehicle, the same that snapped the snake on instinct—digs into my thigh with his reverent suckling, his palm gently stroking my skin.
A growl rumbles in his chest, a sound I love when he kisses me. A sound that tells me he’s wild, feral, and desperate to have me. His mouth is hungry and eager against me.
I can’t take it anymore. Something brews deep in my belly. I don’t know what it is, but it consumes my attention and winds my muscles tighter and tighter. I throw away the pillow and grip the sheets at either side, bracing myself for whatever it is.
He lifts up onto his knees, wrapping my thighs over his shoulders and palms my bottom, holding me to his face. I feel small and fragile around him, like a ragdoll he could easily manipulate any way he wanted. His tongue glides across my slit, and he sucks like he’s drinking the evidence of my arousal, moaning into my folds.
The first twinge of something strikes my muscles. The tightness from before coils in my belly, tugging at my chest. Tighter and tighter, it knots, my muscles trembling against his shoulders. I curl my toes and white-knuckle the sheets below me.
Part of me wishes to fight against it. To hold on. But the other part of me wants to surrender to it and let go.
So I do.
Tingles climb from my toes, shooting up my spine to the back of my head, where they explode into a wash of warm pleasure. My body jerks and spasms with each subsequent contraction that rushes through my muscles, and I slam the pillow to my face in time to cry out into the cotton barrier.
“Oh, God!” I arch into it, letting it seize every muscle in my body in some possession of passion.
My bones turn weak and useless, every muscle relaxed and spent. Breaths arrive slower, and the dizzy drunkenness settles over me as Six lifts the pillow from my face, exposing the after effects of my first orgasm.
A glossy shine coats his lips, which he licks away, and when he shoves his glistening fingers into his mouth, sucking on my juices, another spasm rushes through me. His darkly erotic eyes remind me of an animal’s, as he crawls up my body.
What he wants is clear on his face, but instead of taking it, he lies down beside me, pulling me into him. His erection presses into me, the hardness against my back as he grinds himself in false play.
I sit up from the bed, facing him, and run my finger along the scar at his chest. Leaning into him forces him back, and I crawl over his body, straddling him. My bare sex presses into his stomach, and his muscles flex beneath me.
He shudders and an invisible force tugs his chest, his hands sliding up my thighs as he lifts his head to look where I’m seated against him.
Exhaling a breath, he tips his head back, his hips rolling, spreading my wetness across his skin.
“Six, I want to give you the same,” I whisper.
His body turns rigid and stills.
I back myself down over his groin to his legs, but pause at the sharp grip of my arm.
He shakes his head.
“Yes,” I argue. “Please. I want to.”
His fingers grip tight to my chin, but quickly soften with the upturn of his brows.
“Are you scared?”
His tongue sweeps across his lips, and he nods.
I’m scared, too, but I don’t say as much. A number of times, I’ve read scenes from my books, wherein the woman takes the man into her mouth, but reading about it is not the same as when faced with the actual act. Still, I want to return the favor. I want this poor, abused soul to feel and know pleasure. And I want to be the one to give it to him. “Don’t be. I promise I won’t hurt you. Do you trust me?”
His eye twitches, but he nods, falling back onto the bed.
Trailing kisses down his stomach, I make my way to his pants, which I unbutton and glide over his perfectly sculpted, scar-riddled hips. I hardly notice his scars, anymore, though. They’re a part of him, etched deeper than the surface of his skin.
I take a moment to kiss the few scattered across his stomach, and when his fingers tangle in my hair, I glance up to see him staring down his body at me.
Dipping my head, I kiss another scar, and another, making my way lower and lower.
His penis lies erect before me, against his stomach. The map of veins over the surface pulse, feeding his hardness that’s thick enough to make me wonder if it’ll fit inside my mouth. The scent of cedar wood clings to his skin, and a scant amount of clear fluid collects at the tip, twitching my tongue with the urge to taste it.
I drag my tongue across the salty flavor, and Six jerks against my mouth. In my periphery, his hands fist the sheets, and I assume that’s a good thing, because he doesn’t try to stop me. With the fluid coating my tongue, I close my mouth around the tip of him, breathing in the heady scent of his arousal.
A quiet groan escapes his lips, and as his thighs steel beneath my sex, rubbing against him brings forth the realization that my juices are flowing again. Sucking him turns me on just as much.
I glide my lips down his shaft until his tip hits the back of my throat. A cough sputters behind it, and I sense him lifting his head. When his fingers nudge my lips, I bat them away, sucking him from the base to the tip and back down again.
Another moan echoes in the room, and Six bucks beneath me. I wonder if the pace is enough, if I’m too fast or slow, but then his fingers tangle in my hair and Six guides my pace, setting me into a comfortable rhythm.
His flavor is exquisite, and the feel of him filling my mouth has me sucking him with fervor. Salty skin puckers my taste buds, as I bob against his groin, settling into a cadence that seems to suit him.
His hips roll beneath me in time to my sucking, thrusting upward into my mouth. Deeper. I curl my hand at the base of his shaft to steady him, and my other hand wanders lower, to his testicles.
His moans turn into staccato breaths, hips bucking wildly with each stroke. Fists clutching the sheets at either side of him, he grunts and groans. I catch a glimpse of the veins popping out of his neck, as he tilts his head back into the pillow.
Warmth floods my mouth, and I pull away to see pearly spurts of fluid jetting out the tip of his penis. I clamp my lips over it to sample his release, and a quiet animalistic whimper follows. The thick fluid tastes like an intoxicating blend of sweet and salty, and I savor it a moment before swallowing.
A few final spurts hit the roof of my mouth as he finishes, and I lick away the last of him from my lips. When I lift my head, the pained expression on his face sinks to the very pit of my stomach.
He opens his eyes to reveal tears, and I can feel the heat filling my cheeks, the warmth of humiliation washing over me.
It was supposed to feel good. He was supposed to enjoy it.
“I … I’m …” Did I hurt him? A few times my teeth had accidentally scraped across his skin, but he never expressed any pain. “I’m sorry, Six.”
His brows furrow, as if he’s confused by my response, and he sits up, wrapping his arms around me, pulling me against him.
Lips pressed to mine, he tugs me back onto the mattress beside him, and I double-blink to hide the tears welling in my own eyes before he can see them.
“Did I hurt you?”
A smile lights up his face, and he shakes his head, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear.
“Are those good tears, then?”
He nods and kisses me, his arms enveloping me in a tight embrace.
Relief bathes my tense muscles, and I allow myself to smile, nuzzling my head into the crook of his neck. “I’m glad. I don’t ever want to hurt you, Six. Never.”
Like a spider trappi
ng prey, he wraps his powerful thighs around me, drawing me into his body, and rains kisses over my face. With his heart beating steadily in my ear, I slowly drift blissfully to sleep.
Chapter 18
Wren
I read aloud from a book, while Six lies beside me on the blanket, his finger gently trailing over my skin.
He pauses to twist my bracelet, the one from Papa, and points at the words spelled out in the beads across my wrist.
“Love.” With a smile, I turn toward him, closing the cover of the book on my finger to hold the page. “Do you know what it means?”
He nods, staring back at me, and pushes the strands of hair behind my ear, as usual.
“Can you write what it means to you on the page?”
Nodding a second time, he grabs the pencil and paper, where various words and short sentences have been written across the page. On a blank line, he writes Wren.
I smile down at my name and back to him. “Do you love me, Six?”
Nodding, he lifts my hand to his lips and kisses the back of my palm.
“I love you, too.”
It’s true. I don’t know if I’ve ever loved anyone as much as I love Six.
He climbs over my body, sliding my hands up above my head, the way he does when he wants us to kiss for a while. I release the book, allowing him to pin me beneath him, and when his lips fall against my neck, I giggle at the scratch of his stubble prickling my skin. He presses his hands into mine, holding me down while he brushes his rough jawline into the crook of my neck. The tickle forces me to tilt my head into him, laughing, as I buck beneath him.
“Six!” I break into more giggles, out of breath with his torment. “Stop!”
He does immediately, pulling his head away from mine.
The bluest eyes I’ve ever known stare down at me while he studies my face.
“You would stop if I asked you to, wouldn’t you? No matter what?”
He nods and dips his head to kiss me.
“I don’t want us to stop this time.”
Every night we’ve explored each other, pleasured one another, but I want the ultimate connection with Six. I want to feel what it’s like to be one entity, so deeply connected with him, and vulnerable at the same time. I want to lose control with him, to feel the sweat and the power of him, the electricity moving inside of me, the way it does when he merely touches me. I want our bodies to move in sync, to communicate on a level that doesn’t require words.
I want to steal a piece of his soul that I can carry with me forever.
Propping his body up from mine, he frowns down at me.
“I want you to show me how much you love me. Will you do that?”
A flicker of something flashes behind his eyes, and I’d give anything to know what thoughts are churning in his mind.
The upturn of his brows tells me he’s worried, and when his gaze strays from mine, I tip my head to guide his eyes back to me.
“If it hurts, I’ll tell you to stop. Please, Six?”
He glances away, the conflict clear on his face, but he nods.
The moment he releases my hands, I push my shorts down, kicking them off and tug my shirt over my head.
Six pushes back onto his knees, his eyes widening, as I lay back on the blanket, raising my arms over my head in shameless offering. As many times as he’s seen me naked now, I’ll never tire of his expression, as if it’s the first every time.
Keeping his eyes on me, he slowly unfastens his jeans, standing up to push them to his ankles before punting them away, and tosses his shirt somewhere off to the side. The chiseled dips in his stomach and arms form deep grooves, shadowed by the muscles across his body.
My eyes trail down to his penis, which stands up from his palm as he strokes his shaft.
A nervous twinge beats through my muscles, the surface of my skin tingling with anticipation. As I spread my legs, he falls to his knees, settling himself between my thighs, and I close my eyes.
His lips create a reverent path from my navel to my neck, until he slants his mouth over mine. Like some kind of ritual, he performs this way every time we partake in something sexual, as if asking forgiveness for what he’s about to do.
He backs himself down the path of phantom kisses still lingering on my skin. Lips clamp to my nipple, and I let out a moan, clenching my teeth with the intense waves of lust beating through me. I reach down and massage the top of his head with one hand, while the other clasps to a tight fist.
Over the sounds of his suckling is a light desert breeze ruffling the leaves above me, while I float on clouds of bliss. A quiet moan slips past my lips, and I remember we’re alone out here. Just the two of us.
Six moves to my other breast, and a second moan vibrates my chest, arriving louder than before, loud enough for him to pause his suckling for a moment.
His tip presses against my entrance, and my body turns rigid.
I open my eyes and find Six staring down at me, his intense gaze silently asking permission.
Swimming in the wash of excitement is an undertow of fear that pulls at my stomach, but I nod. There’s no one else I trust more than Six, and I want him to be my first.
His body sets into motion, rocking into me, slow and gentle, only the tip of him breaching the place his fingers have been.
Shaky breaths beat against my cheek as he trembles in my arms.
“It’s okay, Six,” I whisper.
The slow prodding of his tip creates a slick wetness, and he drives forward again, pushing himself inside of me.
I cry out, banding my arms around his shoulders, and tip my head back.
Pressure hits my womb, as he fills me, sliding back and forth across my tight walls. More juices slick his thrusts. For every sting of pain, is a chasing wash of pleasure, ebbing and flowing inside of me.
The throaty whine that blasts out of me doesn’t sound human, at all. It sounds like an animal being torn from the inside out.
The familiar caress of his tongue, dancing across my nipple, echoes our nights of innocent exploration, tamping down the painful bite as he stretches me with every drive of his hips. It grounds me. Draws me into him, when my body wants to rebel against this new invasion.
My stomach muscles bunch, as if he’s breaching my womb, while my cheeks feel as if I’ve been sitting by a toasty fire for hours.
Sweat glistens across his skin with the constant quake in his muscles, like he’s fighting to maintain his control. He holds himself still inside of me, eyes screwed shut, and breath explodes from his chest on a shudder.
“I’m okay,” I whisper. “I’m okay, Six.”
His fingers curl into mine, holding tight, and I wrap my legs around him when he pushes deeper. Deeper.
“Oh, Gah—” The pressure winds inside my belly, and I arch into him.
His jaw hangs open, head tipped back with his eyes closed, and a look of pure ecstasy claims his face.
He thrusts again. And again.
Hooking his arm beneath my thigh, he slides my leg over his shoulder and pushes even deeper, climbing higher up my body.
“Six.” His name arrives as a whisper, a constant chime inside my head that reminds me who has commanded my body this way.
Wriggling a hand free, I slide my palm across his damp shoulders, the steel of his muscles flexing beneath. He’s formidable and strong, but so vulnerable at the same time.
I want to crawl inside of him and stay there. I want to touch his heart, and allow him to touch mine. Hips driving him into me, Six stares into my eyes, and I drown in that sea of blue, letting it pull me under with him to the dark depths of wherever his mind goes.
Beads of sweat wet his hairline and his face pinches with agony, as if it’s all too much for him. A carnal darkness shadows his eyes, and he pushes my leg away.
His movements turn abrupt. His fingers dig into my flesh, bruising my skin. He flips me over onto my stomach and grabs hold of my hips, slamming himself back inside of me.
I cry o
ut again, but the panic in my voice seems to have no effect on him.
I lift my head, but he holds it down, pressing my cheek into the blanket. A wave of fear washes over me, but instead of fighting him, a voice inside tells me to surrender to it. So I do.
I allow his roughness this time.
His body rails into me from behind, while he continues to pin me down. The grunts and moans remind me of animals mating. I close my eyes and imagine that. The two of us in the wild, with him using my body, rutting against me recklessly.
Everything turns numb, and the sting from before fizzles into a fullness in my belly, as he fills me with his venom. This hate the world has branded him with. The cruelty of his tortures slam into me, consuming me in his sadness.
He’s baring his soul to me. Peeling back his skin to the blackness within.
I could tell him to stop, and he would. I know he would, but I don’t.
Instead, I open my mouth to the familiar sensation I’ve come to know, on nights when he’s gently brought me to climax. It coils low, and I cinch my eyes shut, gripping tight to the blanket.
He pounds faster, and I can feel my breasts jostling beneath me with his coarseness, my nipples brushing against the fabric below me.
The masculine sounds of approval that reach my ears only heighten my inexplicable need for this, and my muscles tighten. I lift myself higher to him, allowing him to push deeper, and a droning sound rumbles in my chest—a cross between pleasure and pain. The thrusting of his hips intensifies, until the last bit of control flits out of my grasp, and I scream.
I curl my fingers into the blanket, as if to keep myself grounded, and submit to the explosion that rockets through my blood.
Six grunts and growls, squeezing my hips as he pounds out the last of his release.
Wet warmth leaks down the back of my thighs when he finally stills, keeping himself inside of me, and collapses across my back.
My body is trembling, my muscles weak, and my tears break on a sob.
It’s not because of the pain—I don’t feel any pain, at all. Yet, at the same time, I feel everything. All at once, and it’s too much. I feel as if I’ve given away my darkest secrets, while taking in Six’s at the same time. The hurt. The anger. The true nature of his being.