Marco
MARCO
TWO WEEKS LATER
T he door creaked, a sullen groan after a day drenched in blood and sweat. We’d finally taken out the last of the rat bastards. Cowering in some God -forsaken, dilapidated building. Fuckers thought they’d hide from us. Exhaustion clawed at my muscles, each step toward the sanctuary of my room a step closer to rest. The stink of gunpowder clung to me. I needed a shower.
A flick of the switch and dim light bled through the space. But it wasn't the usual empty I expected. No , it was her— a fucking vision sprawled on my sheets.
Naked as the day she drew her first breath, she lay there. Her dark curls fanned out on the pillow, a wild mane that I wanted to wrap around my hand and pull. Eyes closed, chest rising and falling in the slow rhythm of sleep, she was a goddamn oasis in the desert of my existence.
I stood rooted, my gaze trailing down the length of her. That scar—a pink slash across her abdomen, healing nicely with the rest she’d been ordered to get. It pulled at something primal in me, a need to protect, to possess. Her skin begged for my touch, whispered promises of warmth.
I kicked off my boots, their thuds muffled by the thick carpet. My jacket followed. Each layer shed brought me closer to her, to the heat that radiated from her body.
Muscles tensed, I moved toward the bed, silent, purposeful. But this wasn't about the hunt, not really. It was about the quiet after the storm, the fleeting moments when the world narrowed down to just skin and need and raw desire.
I reached out, fingers twitching, and brushed the back of my hand against the soft curve of her hip. Heat . Fire licked up my arm and settled deep in my gut. A tremor ran through her flesh under my touch, a silent call to every dark urge I kept leashed within.
" Fuck ," I murmured, a prayer or a curse; I couldn't tell.
Her breathing hitched a delicate sound that cut through the fog of my restraint. Dark lashes fluttered, and those eyes—bottomless pools of night—peeled open to fix on me. A smile played on her lips, a hint of devilry that beckoned me closer.
" ..." Her voice was a sultry hum that vibrated straight to my core.
" God , you're fucking perfect," I growled against her throat, teeth grazing the tender skin.
I hovered over her, the need to have her goddamn undeniable. My mouth crashed down on hers, rough and urgent. Fuck gentle. It had been so long since I had her in my arms.
Her lips parted under mine, a sweet surrender to my dominance. I drank her in like she was air, and I was suffocating. Her taste, fuck, it was something wicked and addictive, a mix of innocence lost and a hunger that matched my own. No words, just the sounds of our frantic breaths as we devoured each other's mouths.
I pulled back, my chest heaving, to look at her—a fucking angel beneath me. Her hair was a mess, her chest rising and falling fast, those eyes glazed with lust. Her skin begged for my touch, and every inch was a call I couldn't ignore.
" Jesus ," I muttered under my breath, my voice a low growl that vibrated through the thick tension between us. My hands, scarred from fights and dirty deeds, felt too rough against the softness of her body. But when I touched her, she arched into my palm like she was made for my touch, made for the violence that simmered in my blood.
I trailed my lips down her neck, teeth grazing, tongue soothing the bite. Every mark I left was a silent vow that she was mine. She shivered, a small gasp slipping from her as I found the valley between her breasts. Worshiping her with my mouth, I savored the salty taste of her skin and the curves that filled my hands perfectly.
" Please ..." Her whisper was a plea, a crack in my resolve to keep any semblance of control.
I swore into her flesh; my voice was stripped bare of civility. My hands roamed lower, mapping the territory of her hips, the dip of her waist, the rise of her thighs—territory that would bear my prints, my bruises, my love. My finger traced the raised line that bore the evidence of her capture. The torment she went through. And yet, she hadn’t run. She’d stayed.
" Need you," she breathed out, her hands clutching at me, nails digging into the skin of my back. It was pain mixed with the sweetest pleasure, a reminder that she wasn't just some passive doll. No , my Rosalind was fire and fight wrapped up in beauty .
I explored further, fingers pushing into her pussy, slick and inviting. She bucked against me, her body speaking the language of desire clearer than any words could. My thumb circled, finding that spot that made her cry out, a sound that shot straight to my groin.
" God , sunshine," I groaned, feeling her tighten around me, her climax building, threatening to undo us both. I edged her, forcing her to the top and back again before I couldn’t take it anymore, my cock throbbing as I lined up with her. She used her legs to push me in, her back arching off the bed, her lips parted as she gasped.
I grunted, the sensation nearly flooring me. I wasn’t usually a two-pump chump but with this woman… I could hardly contain myself. But I held back and controlled the urge to pound into her because this wasn't about me. It was about her—breaking her down, building her up, showing her the heights she could reach with me.
The animal in me took over, dominant by nature, by necessity. I set the pace, slow and deliberate at first, watching her come undone beneath me. Her nails dug into my back, stinging as she clawed, as she writhed. Sweat beaded on my forehead as her eyes closed and her head fell to the side, her hand in her mouth as she bit down on a scream.
I pushed her legs wider, angling deeper, reaching places inside her that had her crying out, her sounds raw and unrestrained. There was no holding back, not here, not with her. I wanted to brand her body and soul until there was no question who she belonged to.
" More , ... please," she pleaded, trying to tighten her legs around me, making her pussy even tighter.
And I gave it to her, gave her everything I had, thrusting harder, faster, relentless. Her pussy clung to me, wet and warm, each stroke drawing us closer to the edge. I watched her face contort with pleasure, her lips parting on silent screams that told me I was hitting all the right spots.
" Good girl, take it all," I growled, pride swelling in my chest at her surrender, at her trust in me to take her apart and put her back together.
Her climax built. I felt it in the tightening of her walls, in the way her body shook, desperate for release. Her skin glistened in the dim light, her beauty ethereal, even now—especially now.
" Come for me, Rosalind ," I commanded, my voice hoarse with desire. " Let go."
And when she did, it was a sight to behold, a merging of darkness and light, of violence and solace. Her orgasm ripped through her, and mine followed, a force that shook me to my core. We rode it out together, a mess of limbs and whispered curses, until we collapsed, spent and sated, her body still quivering beneath mine .
Sweat slicked between us, her body a perfect fit against mine. I'd never felt shit like this, drowning in the ecstasy that clawed at my spine and set fire to my veins.
The storm settled, her legs quivering as we just looked at each other. Her rosy cheeks, those hooded eyes, the way her teeth bit down on her bottom lip. I didn't move, couldn't. Just breathed her in, the scent of sex and roses, feeling the rapid beat of her heart against my chest.
I pulled her close as I lay next to her, skin on skin, her curves melding into my hard lines. Found comfort in her warmth, her softness. The room spun down to silence, just us, breathing, existing together at this moment.
She shifted, a sigh escaping her lips, her hand tracing patterns on my chest. Didn't need words to know what she felt; it was there in the soft press of her fingertips, the gentle way she moved against me.
“ Did I hurt you?”
She giggled and pressed her face to my chest, “ No , I’m fine. In fact…” She reached down and flicked my dick, “ I want more.”
I groaned, “ Gimme a bit, woman.”
Laying there got her tangled up with me, flesh to flesh. Rosalind's body is slick with sweat, the same as mine. The room's still echoing with the rough ride we just had, and damn if it ain't the kind of echo that makes you wanna dive right back in.
Her breathing calmed down, getting all soft and rhythmic. I feel sleep creeping up, trying to drag us both under, but shit, I don't wanna close my eyes—not yet.
Rosalind , she's got this way about her, like sunshine cutting through the filth of my world. Started off as nothing but a bargaining chip in this twisted game, but now... she's so much more. She's the promise of something fierce, something that burns inside me—something forbidden and raw.
The heat between us isn’t just from our bodies anymore; it's from the need we have, the craving that won’t ever gonna be sated. But it's more than lust. It's like we've stitched ourselves together, two shadows finding a single shape in the dark. The three of us… in some twisted fucking way, we work.
Sleep's gonna take us soon, I know it. But right now, I'm holding on to the quiet, to the peace I find with her wrapped up in my arms. It's a peace that's hard to come by, a momentary truce in a life filled with death.
And when we finally drift off, it's with the dreams of what we got here—a love that's as dangerous as it is deep. A love that could tear our world apart or maybe at least make it worth all the damn pain.