Chapter 15 #2
So he began to move, his fingers still played with her bundle of nerves, and his other hand moved his knife to her chest, above her heart, where he cut the shape of a heart above it, not deep enough to leave anything permanent behind, but he needed something on her that was his, a way to mark her.
With each thrust, he pulled almost all the way out before slamming back in. The room was filled with the sounds of Whitney’s needy moans, and he could feel her internal muscles begin to flutter. Blade was holding on purely by force of will, waiting until his little genius came before he let go.
“Blade,” she whimpered, and he dug his knife a little deeper into her skin, giving her what she needed to break free from the confines of her mind and explode.
Nothing was more beautiful than the sight of Whitney feeling life rather than observing it from the confines of her big, beautiful mind.
Her internal muscles clenched around him, setting off his own release, and her bliss-filled cries spurred on his pleasure, until it felt like it was never going to end.
It did come to an end, though, and when he looked down and saw concern edging into Whitney’s eyes, he felt his heart clench.
She regretted it.
About to pull out of her, clean her up, apologize, and go back to his room, he stopped when she spoke.
“Are you leaving now?” she asked like she already knew the answer.
Realizing her concern was because she thought he’d taken what he wanted and had no more use for her, he kept himself buried inside her as he lifted her legs down off his shoulders and lowered as much of his weight onto her as he dared.
“No, darlin’, I'm not going anywhere,” he promised as he swirled the tip of his tongue over the small cut on her chest, licking away the blood and easing the sting.
Offering him a shy smile, she fought a yawn. “Okay, that’s good. I wasn't ready for you to leave. Is that okay to say?”
Chuckling, Blade nuzzled her neck as he rolled them slightly so she was tucked against his side. “Yeah, darlin’, it’s okay to say.”
Better than okay. He was in too deep, and he had no idea what Whitney wanted, or what he wanted. Only right now, he didn't have it in him to care.
January 14th
7:13 A.M.
“You're still here,” Whitney said in surprised wonder when she yawned, rolled over, and found herself staring at a naked chest.
An extremely delicious naked chest, and the urge to run her tongue along each defining ridge caught her by surprise. That wasn't her. She didn't have those thoughts, and yet … apparently now she did.
“We’re going to have to talk about those abandonment issues of yours at some point, darlin’.”
That low, steady voice of his seemed to roll right over her, blanketing her with a warmth that had been lacking in her life even before she’d been sold off. Blade seemed to actually care about her, but she didn't understand it at all.
“Thank you for last night,” she said shyly.
There was a slight pain between her legs, but it was the most delicious kind.
She felt like she was no longer a scared little girl, she was a woman now.
A brave one? Maybe not yet, but at least she felt like she was getting there, taking control of her own life, making her own decisions, and it was wonderful.
Beside her, Blade’s face grew troubled, and that tentative hope that had been building inside her seemed to pop like a balloon.
He regretted it.
Of course he would.
There was no way a confident man who looked like Blade wasn't experienced. She’d probably done it wrong, not been very good at it. She’d said she was okay with the knife thing, but he hadn't really cut her much, maybe she’d been a disappointment, and …
“Whoa, don’t go spiraling there, darlin’.”
Although she remembered falling asleep with Blade still inside her, worn out by their lovemaking and feeling safe and content, at some point in the last few hours, he’d slipped out of her and she’d put a little distance between them.
Or maybe that had been Blade. Now, though, he hooked an arm around her and hauled her up against him.
“Whatever thoughts were running through your mind just now, get rid of them. Last night was perfect, you were perfect, but, Whitney … we didn't use protection.”
It was clear Blade was troubled about this, and she relaxed at his praise.
She doubted she was actually perfect, but if he cared enough to try to reassure her, that was a good thing, so she hurried to reassure him.
“It’s not the right time in my cycle, I just finished my period a couple of days before you found me, so I'm not ovulating.
We didn't get pregnant, and since I was a virgin up until a couple of hours ago, I didn't give you anything.” Before he could open his mouth, she continued, “I don’t think you would have risked my health by taking me without a condom if you had something you could have passed onto me.”
“I'm clean,” he confirmed. “But I still should have been more careful. I won't be reckless like that again. Not when it comes to you.”
Impulsively, she leaned up and kissed his cheek, touched by his sweet words.
Whitney had no idea what was going to happen between her and Blade, but she wasn't going to fight against it.
Worst case scenario, she made some fun memories and learned some things about her body and sex, then left once Dr. Gardner was dead.
Best case scenario, maybe she really had found a family who wanted to keep her.
“We’d better get up,” Blade said, although he didn't sound pleased about the idea. Something had shifted in his demeanor, though, and she tried not to panic that she’d somehow done something wrong.
“Did something happen?” It was weird remembering that Blade’s superior hearing probably meant he could hear every conversation happening in the house.
Because of her job she knew better than anyone exactly what these men could do, but knowing it, and being with them to see it, were very different things.
“Maybe, I'm not sure.” Somewhat sheepishly he shrugged. “When I'm with you, I can dull it a little. My hearing. Maybe it’s because you make me feel more so I can shut it down a little. It’s nice. Peaceful.”
Beaming with pride, Whitney kissed him again on the cheek before climbing out of the bed. She was halfway to the bathroom when Blade stopped her, his hand closed around her wrist. She hadn't even heard him moving, it was like he’d crossed the room in a split second.
“Where do you think you're going?” he growled, the possessiveness easy to hear in his tone.
“Umm … to take a shower?”
“But you're …” Blade waved a hand at her body, at the small scratches from his knife that would be healed in a day or two, and the evidence of what they’d shared still staining her legs.
“Covered in blood and your semen?” she asked, unsure if she was reading his expression correctly.
“Yes,” he growled again, but it wasn't an angry growl, just one that made her blood heat and her body pulse with desire.
“You want to mark me?” That was sweet in a way she definitely hadn't been expecting.
“Does that scare you? Make you think of me as an animal?” he asked, a little defensively.
“No. Why would it? I'm not proud of it, but I was part of what was done to you, Blade.
I'm the whole reason it started. I know that you're not an animal, and I wish I could undo all the horrible words Dr. Gardner said to you.
I'm sorry that I didn't find a way to stop him,” she said softly.
It seemed impossible that Blade didn't hold it against her, that it wouldn't come between them.
“You were just a little girl.”
“At first, yes. But I'm twenty-two now, I've been an adult for four years. I should have done something to stop it. Stop him.” Maybe he was prepared to let her off the hook, but she wasn't as generous when it came to herself and what she’d participated in.
Those marks on her back were a permanent reminder of the deaths she had caused.
With another growl, Blade snatched her off the floor, and automatically her legs hooked around his hips, her arms around his neck.
“You were manipulated and all but erased from existence.
You had no choice, they were keeping you a prisoner.
But that didn't stop you from finding a way to get yourself out. Despite what he told you, you are not responsible for any of those deaths.”
His hand swept up her back, tracing lightly over the brands on her skin. His words weren't enough to convince her even a little bit, but the sadness in his eyes, that hit her hard.
When his lips caught hers, it wasn't in a fiery, passionate kiss or a clumsy one like hers from the gym. It was soft and sweet, tender and affectionate. It was exactly what she needed.
“Go, take your shower, I’ll meet you downstairs,” Blade announced, pulling back and setting her on her feet, wasting the perfectly good erection that had been hardening as he kissed her. “Go,” he said again when she couldn’t seem to tear her eyes from it.
“Thought you didn't want me to shower.”
“I don’t,” he snarled, making her giggle.
“I'm pretty sure they’ll know what we did in here,” she soothed him, secretly pleased that he wanted to mark her to show the rest of his team that she was taken. His at least for now.
“Oh, darlin’,” he called as she gathered some clothes and headed to the bathroom.
“Yeah?”
“You better not do anything about that throbbing between your legs. I'm the only one who gets to make you come.”
With a smirk, he left her standing there staring after him as he strode out of the room, the throbbing between her legs that much more prominent than it had been a few seconds ago.
Crazy caveman.
So possessive.
Still, she was smiling as she brushed her teeth and took her shower.
And she didn't do anything about the need thudding through her system, although she desperately wanted to.
After breakfast, maybe she could convince Blade that a workout in her bedroom counted as part of the training system he wanted to set her up on.
By the time she was clean, her hair twisted into two braids, dressed in jeans that hugged her legs, and a pastel pink sweater that she hoped highlighted her breasts enough to capture Blade’s attention, Whitney was feeling more confident about herself, her body, and her life than she had in a long time.
In ever really.
That confidence carried her through the halls and down to the kitchen, where she could hear muted voices.
But it wavered when she stepped into the room, and all eight heads turned in her direction.
It wasn't that they were all looking at her, although she did hate to be the center of attention, that had her freezing, it was the worried expressions on all their faces.
“What's wrong?” she asked, already feeling the need to shrink into herself, make herself a smaller target.
Before anyone could answer, her gaze landed on the TV screen where a huge picture of her face was displayed along with a note saying she was wanted for murder.