Chapter 26 Scars #3
“Thank fucking God.” He pressed forward again. Shallow. Controlled. His hips rocked in a rhythm that was gentle to the point of torment, giving himself barely an inch of that blinding warmth before pulling back, afraid of what would happen if he took more.
“Mmm,” she moaned, the sound vibrating against his shaft.
A broken sound tore from his chest. He slid further, feeling the tight seal of her lips, the warm press of her tongue curling against the underside of his cock, the impossible intimacy of being inside her mouth while the water thundered around them and the steam erased everything but sensation.
He wasn’t fucking her mouth. He was unraveling knots tied deep in his soul.
Each stroke peeled back another layer of the armor, so many years of shame and secrecy welded to his entire existence, locking him in agony until he forgot what basic pleasure felt like. Each wet, tender pull of her lips dissolved another year of clenched teeth and white-knuckled survival.
“Christ, don’t stop.” Jack stroked himself deeper, inch by careful inch.
The echo of his breathing beat off stone, the acoustics of the enclosed space amplifying every gasp and moan. In the end, it wasn’t friction or technique or the obscene visual of her kneeling before him with her arms pinned to the wall that undid him.
It was her tenderness. The softness of her surrender. The patience in her breathing. The way she adjusted to his rhythm, matching his tempo with an intuition that left him gutted.
They weren’t performing. They were dancing. A tango of trust and graceful dominance. She received him, accepted him, with such openness it cracked his chest wide open.
His breath split into shallow, ragged gasps as his hips jerked. Pressure built at the base of his spine, molten and unbearable, and his grip on her hands trembled so violently.
He pulled free of her mouth with an agonized moan and staggered backwards, releasing her hands.
Water beat him back like a current, ceaselessly driving his mind to all the versions of himself he’d been before. The pivot from intense arousal to excruciating grief laid him bare, with nowhere to hide.
He turned his back to her and threw his body into the wall, bracing his arm under his eyes, as a sob tore from his throat, wrenching and ugly.
His body convulsed, and he pounded his fist into stone, gritting his teeth as something giant that had been planted inside of him for years suddenly released.
Another hoarse cry ripped from his throat as unexpected relief bombarded him. Hope, like he hadn’t felt in decades, flooded his chest until his body ached as if it might burst. Despite the carnage of all the broken pieces left behind, there might be something salvageable in him still.
A jagged breath broke through, and he gasped. Daisy came to stand beside him, silent and stoic, letting the moment stand.
She took his hand, lacing her fingers with his, and squeezed.
Jack turned and pulled her to him, her breasts crushing against his chest as he wrapped her in his arms and squeezed her to him.
A hug.
Grief emptied from his body in jagged, convulsive bursts. She didn’t rush him or dare to let go.
Only when the sobs subsided, and his breathing settled into something human again, did she pull back to look up at him. “That was beautiful. Thank you for sharing it with me.”
He knew then what the pain in his chest was.
He’d only felt it a few times before. Once, when Myrtle rested beside him in her bed.
Another time, when his heart broke at the thought that Mr. Carrow might have been gone.
And, the hardest one to remember, when Mum looked at him as just a son, before she ever thought to trade him like currency for crack and a few lousy beans.
The pain in his chest was love.
Daisy reached up and dragged a gentle hand down his face, wiping water and tears away. He closed his eyes against her soft caress and kissed her palm.
He traced his thumb over her swollen lips and asked, “Do you still want to stay?”
She smiled and nodded. “Yes.”
The words hung between them in the steam, loaded with everything they couldn’t say. The ache had almost left, but he had a feeling it would take more than one lifetime for the way he wanted her to wear away.
Jack wanted to bury himself inside her until he forgot his own name.
He wanted to hold her so close their heartbeats synchronized, and the line between his body and hers dissolved.
He wanted her with the ceaseless hunger of a tide that devours the shore.
And the wanting was so vast it terrified him more than every other emotion he’d ever suffered.
They had decades of damage to wade through, and it wouldn’t be easy, but the desire was there. He’d do whatever it took to keep her, his beautiful obsession.
She turned the taps, and time slowed. Silence rushed in, sudden and enormous, as the bathroom filled with the soft percussion of dripping.
Daisy stepped out of the shower first, the cool air raising goosebumps along her arms and spine. He grinned as she handed him a warm towel.
“What’s that smirk?”
He unraveled the towel and blotted his face. “Your bottom’s shaped like a heart.”
She laughed. “Were you checking out my bottom?”
His grin widened into something wolfish. “I was.”
“Naughty Jack. I think I may be in the process of creating a monster.”
She turned, purposely waggling her ass as she sauntered away, drying herself as she left the room.
“I think you’re curing one,” he murmured, following her into the bedroom.
Daisy stood stock still in the center of the room.
“What is it?” He followed her gaze to the balcony doors.
The sky blazed coral and tangerine. Pale gold clouds stretched across the heavens, bleeding into vermillion shades of red, and The Preserve darkened to a jagged black silhouette under the burning sky.
“It’s dawn,” she whispered, her voice a mix of regret or awe.
The bells tolled, deep and resonant, the sound rolling across the grounds like a wave breaking against stone. It vibrated through the floor and walls, through the marrow of his bones.
The continuous peal of that iron tongue proclaimed the conclusion of something momentous, marking this significant moment in time before the rest of his life would begin.
Jack’s hand tightened around hers as he stared out at the horizon, watching the darkness recede. He turned his attention to the woman beside him, taking in the prettier view, as a smile curved his lips and hope bloomed.
Dawn was here.