Stain (Stain #1)(61)

“Shhh.” I end up underneath him on the floor. He passes a hand through my damp hair and kisses my forehead. He kisses my tear-stained cheeks and my nose and lips. My body is shaking from the violent sobs that shoot up from the deepest, darkest part of my soul and he drinks them. Covers my mouth fully and swallows my shame, my guilt, and what’s left of the anger he knows so well. In his kisses I taste his soul, and it hungers for mine in ways that go so much deeper than mere sex.

“I’m here. I’m here, Aylee. Nothing and no one is ever going to hurt you again. I promise you that.” His voice is low, torrid, and he whispers with such rough emotion against my wet mouth that not even God himself would doubt him. His hand in the back of my hair clenches to a fist and draws my head up slightly to meet his gaze. The intense emotion in his voice radiates in his pewter eyes; they’re too overwhelming for me to hold his stare but too powerful for me not to.

I know I shouldn’t. I know most would ridicule me, believing it’s because I’m so vulnerable right now, and that it’s a bad time but memories are made through time and right now making this memory with Maddox is as vital to me as the blood rushing through my veins. “I love you,” I whisper, and then I kiss him hard, slipping my tongue between his lips to stroke at his. If he doesn’t feel the same at least I’ll have this moment.

I expect nothing. I give him all of me because doing otherwise is not an option. My soul reaches for his and is simply content knowing that he’ll catch me. Or at least I hope he will. Please let him feel the same. I hear his growl, feel the vibration of it in his chest before he takes control of the kiss. He devours my mouth with hard, insatiable hunger that has his body crushing down on mine. Moving his hand between us, he slips my panties aside and slowly glides deep inside me. My legs grip his waist and we rock together with every in-and-out plunging motion of his hips. He grips my hair and only allows me a few short whimpers and gasps before he claims my mouth again. He’s driving into me, hard and deep, and I can hear my sweat-slicked back squeaking against the wooden floor as he drives long, deep, and hard inside me, coming up against that mind-blowing bundle of nerves he calls my G-spot. He rubs relentlessly and I see stars when he hits it—a breathtaking galaxy of stars centering in the universe between my legs.

“Aylee…” he utters with a tortured groan. “Aylee,” he calls again, the reverence in his tone filling my heart with the sweetest elation. He likes to pin me down and take control, which I happily relinquish. He takes my arms above my head, clenching my skin palm to palm and interlaces our fingers in a death grip. His grip is amazingly strong but I’m holding on just as tightly.

“I can stay in you forever,” he whispers harshly against my ear just before his body stiffens and I feel his length throb, pulsing deep inside of me as release takes over him. He groans against my neck as we share ecstasy in its purest, most divine form.

I fall into a state where mental and physical exhaustion makes me feel like I’m floating. Bliss is the sensation taking over me when my bones start to feel like they’re melting. It’s in the way he holds me so tightly against his sweat-stained body. We’re tangled up in each other, lower limbs intertwined—I’m practically his blanket. His arm wraps around my waist while he holds my head to his chest with the other. So good. So, so good. With his fingers slowly raking through my hair, I listen to the strong and steady lullaby that is his beating heart. I let it guide me to sleep and realize with powerful clarity that this is the only time in my life I’ve ever felt truly safe.

***

Maddox

That motherf*cking cop deserves the worse sort of death. He and the f*cker who had a hand in giving me life have a special place in hell waiting for them. Though I doubt my sperm donor isn’t already f*cking burning to a crisp. If I could make a deal with the Devil himself, it would be for me to have a hand in their eternal suffering. Every single word of her confession had been like a fire poker searing slowly down my heart. I’m not accustomed to caring this much about someone’s pain, to truly feel and know exactly the sort of anguish buried so deep inside her that I could taste it. There’s only the smallest bit of difference in our experiences, but she’s dealing with her own monster. With a coward who gets off on preying on the innocent. And with all the f*cked-up shit I went through, at least I can say my predator is six feet under, but Aylee is still living with hers. I tighten my hold on her to the point where her small whimper is the only thing that pushes me to ease up. Every time it hits me that I have to let her return to that place, with that f*cking pedophile, I want to jump in my truck, ride out to her house, and find the motherf*cker and hammer his face into the ground.

My arms tighten around her again as it hits me that beneath the blinding anger there’s the very real and very dark pit of fear sitting at the base of my chest. It’s a fear that something might happen to her and I won’t be there in time to stop it. It’s the fear of disappointing her. The fear of hurting her. The fear of not being enough for her.

I’ve never noticed this part of myself before. But I know it came the day she rode her bike to my house and it’s only gotten worse because now she’s become this permanent thing inside my heart. She’s living there now and my heart isn’t much but it’s the only home I can give her. It’s in her beautiful, delicate hands that I put the ruins of my heart. I’m wondering what she’ll think of me if I tell her I’m going to lock her in this apartment and never let her out of my sight. She’ll probably think I’ve lost my shit but I can’t stomach her being hurt ever again.