Chapter 22 #3
“Before Virgil and Wren found me hitchhiking, fresh out of Texas,” he supplies easily. “They made me want to be a better person. You make me want to be everything for you.” He bares his teeth in a wolfish grin, his fingers skimming across my stomach until he can hook them in the top of my leggings.
“He would’ve walked away if I hadn't pushed him. But fuck, I wanted to push him, princess.” His fingers pull downward, and he uses his other hand to maneuver me until my leggings and underwear are somewhere over the foot of the bed, leaving me just in my bralette.
“And I enjoyed it when he snapped. He hit me once.” Jed taps his lip before his hands come back to smooth up my sides.
I shudder at the touch, my body on fire from his voice and his hands alone.
“I let him have it, because he was drunk, and if I didn’t let him have a little something, I would’ve felt terrible.
” His smile darkens as he leans over me, his knee pressing between my thighs.
“But after that first hit, I didn’t give him anything at all.
” His bloody, raw knuckles trail up my sides, over my arms, until he can stroke one thumb along my lip.
“And I loved every sound he made. I wanted him to make more. His blood was sour and flat. Filled with cheap booze and cigarettes. My mother would’ve called him bad meat and made jerky out of him, if that. ”
“Why…” I lick my lips, accidentally touching his thumb with my tongue. “Why jerky?” He has to be joking, right?
But his grin tells me he isn’t. “Because it’s the most forgiving way to treat bad meat like him.
” I know he can feel the shudder that goes through me, and while much of it is from revulsion at the idea of eating someone labeled bad meat…
some of it has nothing to do with the cannibalistic aspect of this.
“That’s umm.” I have no idea what it is. Or why my body is still begging for him to do more than just watch me.
“It’s fucked up,” Jed supplies with a sudden, rueful laugh.
His expression lightens, just a touch, and with a few quick movements he tugs my bralette off over my head, staring down at me again.
“I’m fucked up, in case you haven’t noticed.
Don’t deny it.” He cuts me off the moment I open my mouth.
“It is what it is, Saylor. If you can’t live with it, I understand. ”
“Does it make me fucked up if it’s not a sticking point?” I take my time with the words, and when they come out, they’re barely audible.
“No.” His reply is quick, and he finds my eyes to hold them with his. “It makes you perfect.” He leans down, until he’s just inches above me, and I can feel his breath on my lips as he keeps his gaze on mine, waiting to see what I’ll do.
So, naturally, I don’t keep him waiting.
All the trepidation in the world isn’t enough to rip away my attraction and need for him.
I lean up just enough to catch his lips, my arms twining around his shoulders so I can jerk him down to me; bringing him close enough for my tongue to once again find that split in his upper lip.
That makes him moan like he’s gone feral.
I lick over it again, my movements small and teasing while my tongue occasionally dips into his mouth.
When my licks break it open, however, and fresh blood seeps between my lips, he doesn’t give me the opportunity to apologize.
His groan becomes a snarl, and he slams his lips against mine to turn whatever this is into a real, earnest kiss.
Then he proceeds to devour me like he’s trying to suck out my soul through my lips. Distantly I can hear and feel him struggling with his jeans, and within less than a minute I hear the distinctive sound of them hitting the floor.
“Fuck, Saylor,” Jed pants, pulling away with lips smeared with red. “I can’t believe you exist.” He lunges back down again, but this time, instead of going for my mouth, his tongue licks a line up my throat, only for him to follow it again with nipping, grazing teeth.
It’s not normal. My stomach prickles with excitement and fear while he licks and nips my skin, giving both sides of my neck a thorough taste before he moves further downward.
“Are you—” I begin, but again he cuts me off.
“Tasting every inch of your perfect skin,” he purrs, like it was obvious all along. “I love the way you taste, Saylor. Especially right here.” He strokes his tongue over my nipple, over and over until I’m a whining, twisting mess under him and my nipple is stiff under his mouth.
He finally moves to the other, his fingers and tongue quickly doing the same to it before he sits up just enough to readjust and kneel between my thighs. His eyes tell me exactly what he’s planning, and I can barely breathe when anticipation closes my throat.
“But I think you know what my favorite part of you is?” His grips my thighs like he had that first time, and his thumbs stroke over both sides of my slit, eyes never leaving mine. A whimper leaves my throat, desperate and needy, and that only causes his smile to widen.
“I just want you to know in advance,” he tells me, fingers swiping over my clit. “That I’m not going to stop until you come with my tongue deep in your cunt. I’m going to taste every inch of your pussy while you come, Saylor. You got that?”