Scarred (Never After #2)(80)
“Show me your pain, little doe. Give it to me so you don’t bear it alone,” I rasp against her mouth as I suck down her cries.
My hands claw at her clothing and she gives as good as she gets until we end up bare, with her in my lap; fabrics tossed to the side, shredded and in forgotten piles. My dick slides between her pussy lips, desperate to sink inside of her.
I fist her hair, pulling until her back bows like a pretzel, the ends of her curly strands grazing against the floor until her breasts are exposed, dark pink nipples begging to be sucked. I lean down like a ravenous animal and wrap my mouth around her pebbled flesh, growling when her taste explodes on my tongue, and she grinds her hot cunt along my shaft.
“Tristan,” she pleads, her juices running down the length of me and pooling on the polished tiled floor of the cathedral. “Please, I—”
I release her nipple with a pop, sliding my tongue up her chest until I’m sucking on her neck, bringing the blood to the surface, not caring if I leave a mark; desperate to show the world that she belongs to no one else but me. To mark her skin like she’s marked my soul.
Someone could walk in at any time, but I don’t give a damn. Let them watch.
This isn’t love. This is obsession. It’s madness. It’s salvation.
“Shh.” I move my lips until they brush against hers. “I know what you need.”
I let go of her hair, moving both of my hands to grip her hips, and I raise her up, my cock angry and throbbing beneath her. And then her wet heat encases me from root to tip, her soft walls hugging every single ridge of my dick until my abs tense, and I see stars just from the feel of being surrounded by her.
Her head flies back as she moans, rotating her hips in a figure eight, every motion making me leak.
She rides me so good and this time it’s her who rips me by the hair; the sting making me groan as her lips work their way down the front of my neck, sucking when they reach the thin cut on my throat.
I throb inside of her.
“Yes,” I hiss, bucking up and collapsing on my elbows, her body following as she continues to lick at the wound she made. “You filthy girl, riding my cock and licking up my blood like you’re starved for me.”
She moans again, the sound vibrating through me, and then she’s moving until her back is straight, and her hands are cupping her breasts and tweaking the nipples until they stiffen into hard peaks. My abdomen clenches tight as I watch her throw her head back and squeeze her eyes shut, wondering how it’s possible she exists—half convinced that I’ve gone mad and she’s nothing more than a figment of my imagination.
Suddenly, the feeling is too much, and I shoot forward until our chests brush, her hips faltering in their rhythm. My fingers grip her cheeks. “Look at me.”
Her perfect dark eyes spring open, and Christ, it makes me feel like the luckiest man to have her in my lap, and on my cock, and in my goddamn veins. “Did you really think I would ever harm you?”
I punctuate my question with a sharp thrust into her slick heat, keeping myself pressed against her as she rotates her swollen core against my groin, her body shaking as her walls flutter around my dick.
A tear escapes the corner of her eye and trails down her cheek, and I lean in without thought, my tongue swiping out and licking it away.
Her sorrow is now my sorrow.
Her pain is now my pain.
“I will torture and maim any person who dares to even think your name,” I speak against her ear, holding her face against me while I continue to fuck her hard and slow.
She lets out a whimper, nodding her head as she leans in to claim my lips again in a bruising kiss, and my heart falters, needing to feel her deeper—wanting to somehow dig my way beneath her skin and stay there for eternity.
My hands leave her face and grab onto her hips instead, pushing her down until every single inch of my cock is buried deep inside of her, but still, it’s not enough.
I lift her off me, my shaft engorged and glistening with her arousal, raging as it escapes the warmth of her. Wrapping my arm around her waist, I spin her until she’s bent over on all fours, her elbows on the edge of the raised dais. I sit back on my heels and soak in the vision, committing it to memory so I can tattoo it on my skin.
Her pretty little pussy is exposed, and she’s leaned down as if she’s bowing in prayer, the stained-glass windows sending sprinkles of colors across her perfect creamy skin, and the deep wood of the crucifix looming heavily over our sins.
I move forward, slipping my fingers inside of her needy cunt, curling them forward to find that soft, spongy spot that will make her come undone.
“Should I punish you for your lack of faith?” I ask, spreading my fingers apart before bringing them back together and curling them again.
She groans, her head dropping onto the backs of her hands, which push the cheeks of her ass out toward me. They’re begging me to turn them red.
So I do.
I slip my fingers from inside of her and use that same hand, slick with her juices, to whip across her skin, the crack resounding off the high arches of the church’s ceilings. Heat collects at the base of my spine, and I have never been harder than I am right now, watching her skin ripple and turn pink from my hand.
Her fingers scramble for purchase at the base of the altar, and her nails scratch against the floor.
“You’ve been a very bad girl, Sara.” My hand rubs over my palm print, and she purrs, pushing herself farther into my hold.