Chapter 20 Julian #2
She laughs, and the sound cuts through the white noise of the city. I want to memorize that laugh, capture it in a bottle and take a shot every time I need to remember why I fought so hard for her. I want to bite it out of her throat and tattoo it on my tongue.
“Did you mean it?” she asks, softer now. “About wanting a kid?”
I don’t answer. I step behind her, hands on her hips, chin tucked over her shoulder. I press my mouth to the place where her pulse beats, slow and even. “What I meant was, I want to make you mine. In every way.”
She shivers, but not from the wind.
“Then do it,” she whispers, and I feel the invitation like a gun pressed to my temple.
I turn her around, grip her by the jaw, and search her face for any trace of doubt. There is none. Only anticipation, dark and bottomless. I want to see her undone, to watch the last vestiges of girlhood burn away and leave behind the woman I built from the bones of her old life.
Picking her up, I heave her over my shoulder and carry her inside before dumping her on the bed.
Unbuttoning my shirt slowly, I let it slide to the floor.
I do a small thrust and grin, running my hand through my hair and flexing.
A little strip tease to turn her on. Unzipping my pants slowly, I slide them off, my cock hard in my boxers.
A small gasp escapes her as I pull them off and watch her reactions.
She stands before me, silent, eyes wide as she slowly tears her eyes from mine and looks down the length of my body and back up.
Her hands are steady as she strips off the shirt, the jeans, the panties.
She is perfect, every inch of her, but it’s the “flaws” that make me want her more: the faint line of stretch marks over her hips, the dimples in her thighs.
Walking forward, her hands press against my chest until I hit the bed and sit. She climbs into my lap, knees bracketing my hips, and wraps her arms around my neck.
I kiss her, slow. Not because I want to savor it, but because I want to own it—every gasp, every tremble, every intake of breath. She opens for me, tongue slick and hot, hands tangled in my hair.
Her cunt is already wet, slick against the length of me, and I could take her now, fast and brutal, but I don’t. I want this to last. I want it to scar her, to haunt her every time she tries to forget what I’ve done to her.
Laying her back on the mattress, I crawl over her, and kiss my way down her body. I bite the inside of her thigh, hard enough to leave a mark, then soothe it with my tongue. She squirms, hands gripping my head, nails raking my scalp.
I taste her, slow and deliberate, mapping her every nerve ending with the tip of my tongue. I want to make her beg, to squeal, but she’s not quite there yet. She just moans, low and guttural, like she’s afraid the neighbors will hear. I want them to hear. I want the whole city to hear.
She comes on my tongue, squirting all over my face, hips bucking, fingers pulling at my hair, riding out her pleasure. I don’t stop until she begs, not for mercy, but for more.
I slide up her body, pin her wrists above her head, and press my cock against the slick heat of her pussy. She bites her lip, eyes on mine, daring me to claim her.
“Say it,” I whisper, my voice ragged. “Say who you belong to.”
“You,” she gasps. “Always you.”
That’s all I need.
I thrust into her, hard and deep, and her back arches off the bed, mouth open in a silent scream. I keep her pinned, my hands bruising her wrists, my hips pounding against her until we’re both shaking.
She takes everything I give her, every inch, every word, every filthy promise whispered into her ear. She wraps her legs around my waist and pulls me deeper, nails scoring my back, teeth grazing my shoulder.
I fuck her until we’re both exhausted, until the sweat and the tears and the come mix together on the sheets. I want to fill her up, to ruin her, to leave her so completely wrecked that even her shadow belongs to me.
When I finally come, it’s with her name in my mouth, the taste of her still lingering on my tongue. I collapse beside her, chest heaving, heart pounding so loud I’m sure she can hear it.
We lie there, tangled in the wreckage of the bed, trying to calm our breathing.
She traces the scars on my chest, one by one, her touch light but sure.
“Why did you really go against your father to save me?” she whispers.
I don’t answer right away. I watch the way the moonlight glows on her skin, the way her hair falls over her eyes.
“Because I wanted to see what you’d do with your freedom,” I say, at last. “Because I wanted to see if you’d choose me.”
She laughs, soft and bitter. “I never really had a choice.”
I grip her jaw, force her to look at me.
“You have one now. It’s the only time I’ll ever offer this, so think it through. I want to give you the choice your circumstances never allowed you,” I sigh, barely able to believe that I’m about to say this. “You can walk away. Or you can stay.”
She doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink.
“Then I choose you,” she whispers, and it feels like a curse and a blessing at the same time.
She chose me, despite everything. In spite of everything and the weight of that choice settles in my gut.
I kiss her, softer this time, and she melts into me.
For a long time, we just breathe, the silence thick and perfect.
Eventually, she rolls on top of me, straddling my hips as my cock slowly springs back to life, her hands braced on my chest. She looks down at me.
“What happens now?” she asks.
I reach up, run my fingers through her hair, and pull her down so our mouths are inches apart.
“Now we make our own rules.”
She grins, feral and free, and rides me slow, her cunt gripping me tight. She sets the pace, her hands digging into my shoulders, her hips grinding down with every thrust. I let her take control, let her use me the way I used her, let her carve her own name into my skin.
We come together, a mess of sweat and noise and always present desire for each other.
I will always need her like this.
She’s a wreck, my cock is raw, but I’d do it again if she wanted to. She lies on my chest, her breath slow and even.
I stroke her back, tracing the curve of her spine.
“You were never just a Hunt Runner to me,” I say, voice hoarse. “You’re my equal. My partner.”
She’s quiet for a long time.
Then she lifts her head, eyes searching mine.
“There’s one thing I want,” she says.
“Name it.”
She hesitates, then says, “I want one last Hunt. My own. Not for the Board. Not for anyone but me.”
I cock an eyebrow. “You want me to chase you?”
She smiles, wicked and sweet. “I want you to catch me.”
I grin, the predator in me stirring.
“Tomorrow,” I promise. “Tomorrow you run. And tomorrow, I’ll hunt you.”
She kisses me, hard, and settles back against my chest.
We fall asleep like that, two monsters wrapped around each other, dreaming of the hunt to come.