47. You Asked Me To

YOU ASKED ME TO

“Please don’t leave me here.”

I frowned, turning around.

“Leave? I just got you back.”

I walked closer to her, checking the rope. It bit into the willow tree just where I wanted.

Good. She couldn’t wander off now.

I moved around her, circling her with a mix of hope and desperation, my hands trembling as I gently but insistently mended the knots binding her wrist. I could see the bruises softly blooming beneath her skin—fragile, fleeting, and so painfully real.

I brushed her hair back behind her ear, my voice barely a whisper, thick with emotion.

“See?” I murmured, my heart pounding. “Much better.”

“Charlie, I’m so sorry,” she choked out between sobs, her voice breaking like fragile glass. But her words weren’t necessary; I already knew.

I gently reached up, brushing a tear away from Lilly’s cheek.

My voice wavered with emotion as I declared, “I know, I know you are.”

I finally did what I knew I had to from the very beginning—I stayed.

My fingers wobbled as I lingered over her lips, and she looked so incredibly beautiful, so painfully vulnerable. Those mesmerizing blue eyes, filled with unwavering devotion, seized my very soul and held it hostage.

With a gentle touch, I pressed a soft kiss onto her cold, trembling lips, tasting the salt of her tears—each drop a silent cry of her despair and longing.

“What are you going to do to me?” she whimpered, her voice bitter with fear, as I slowly pulled away.

For an agonizing moment, confusion flickered across my face, stretching too long before I finally stepped back and gazed at her—my heart pounding uncontrollably.

“I want to taste your fear… I want to feel your pain… I want to hear you scream my name,” I affirmed, my lips pressing tenderly onto her tears, trailing kisses across her jawline, each one a battle between my desire and the ache in my chest. When I reached her collarbone, I paused, my lips just centimeters from her skin, shuddering with the need to do more.

“The crazy part,” I murmured, voice thick with emotion, “is that you’ll ask me to do it again.”

Without waiting for her reply, I turned on my heel and walked away, every step heavy with the weight of everything left unsaid, leaving behind the doubts.

If ads affect your reading experience, click here to remove ads on this page.