Chapter 13 #2
She shook her head. “It’s more than that.”
How I wanted that to be true. But I knew better. It happened. A captive welcoming any kindness from their captor. A person abused and tortured wanting to show thanks for their rescue.
“Trust me, I’m not the man you need or want. Not even close, and I don’t say that lightly. Since meeting you, I’ve wished I were a different man. A better man. Because I would love nothing more than to take you to bed.”
“What if I want you to?”
“It would be wrong.”
“For whom?” she whispered close enough I felt the words on my lips.
“Us both.” I barely managed the raspy reply.
“I guess Joseph was right,” she stated, turning from me and floating away.
“About what?”
“That no man would ever find me attractive again.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I barked. “You’re damned gorgeous.”
“So beautiful, you’re rejecting me.” Said with a laugh that sounded choked with tears.
“Not because of your looks. You’re in a vulnerable state right now and it would be wrong to take advantage.”
“An easy excuse. You can say it. I’m damaged goods.” She uttered a bitter laugh.
“Bullshit. You’re perfect.”
“No, I’m not.” She faced me but looked sad. “I have scars and not just on the inside.” She stood so the water lapped at her waist and to my shock, began peeling off her bathing suit, revealing a perfect breast with a crescent scar marking the flesh of it.
It took me a shocked second before I exclaimed, “He bit you?”
She didn’t reply, but rather kept lowering the suit, showing me two older and puckered wounds on her abdomen.
Stabbed or shot, the holes could have been from either.
When she pivoted, I could see the faded lash marks across her back.
Fuck me, she’d been whipped.
She wasn’t done. The suit lowered even more to show the damage done to her buttocks, the round scars the kind left behind by burns, as if from a cigarette. I should know the look of them, since I had a few myself from a short stint as a prisoner of war.
I barely heard her whisper. “You thought me beautiful and perfect, but now you know the truth. I’m damaged.
Marred. What man will want someone with so much damage?
How can I expect anyone to look at me with desire when I can barely stand to look at myself?
And don’t lie. Don’t tell me it doesn’t matter. Your silence says it all.”
Oh fuck. I didn’t speak because shock froze my tongue. I didn’t speak because anger coursed through me. I couldn’t say a word because it would emerge as a primal scream.
I did the only thing I could. I laid myself bare.
“I’ve got my own scars,” I said. “And yet the ones on my flesh aren’t the worst ones.
I have nightmares. Panic attacks. I’m an alcoholic and a miserable bastard.
If anyone is damaged and unworthy, it’s me.
Even my own wife couldn’t love me after I returned from my last deployment. ”
“She was a fool,” Nicky hissed. “There is nothing wrong with you.”
“And yet I wake up every day hating myself.”
“Guess we have that in common. I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For everything.” She sat on the edge of the tub and swung a leg over, readying to leave. Leave after baring her soul to me. Leave because she thought herself unlovable. Unattractive. Unworthy…
At my core, I knew I was wrong for her on so many levels. A woman who’d been through so much deserved a better man and yet in that moment—with her so vulnerable, hurting, doubting—I couldn’t reject her. Call me selfish, but I couldn’t let her walk away thinking I didn’t want her.
I wanted her so bad it fucking hurt.
I didn’t give a fuck about her scars. To me they showed her strength and resilience. She was a survivor, like me. And maybe I wasn’t the right guy for her, but in that moment I didn’t care. She needed me, and fuck me, I needed her too.
I stood and put a hand on her, feeling her shudder and hating how her shoulders curved inward. I tilted her head to face me.
“You. Are. Beautiful. Every fucking inch.”
“You’re just saying that because I’m pathetic and you feel sorry for me,” she whispered, pearly drops clinging to her lashes.
“I might be many things, but I am not a liar, not about something like that. While I still think—actually, I know—you could do so much better than me, I only have so much willpower. And you just shattered it.”
With that, I kissed her softly. A gentle press of my mouth to hers at odds with the passion that pulsed in my veins.
She remained still for the embrace. As I coaxed her mouth, her trembling ceased. Her lips parted. Her clipped hair didn’t survive my fingers raking through it to cup her head and the silken strands came tumbling down. She inhaled. As if that were a signal, something within her unleashed.
Her hands clutched at my shoulders as she kissed me back, and the sweetness of her passion almost dropped me to my knees. I felt shaky enough I sat down on the bench and dragged her with me, seating her in my lap, knowing she could feel my cock hard against her ass.
Would that be proof enough I found her desirable? Apparently not, because she kept kissing me, turning in my lap so she straddled me properly. Grinding against me. Making me growl into her mouth as I sought not to lose control and scare her.
My hands cupped her ass, squeezing the firm flesh, digging in, but not too roughly. She was delicate and needed gentleness, not the savage straining inside me.
She wanted proof she was desirable? I’d show her. But not here in the tub where it would be awkward and uncomfortable.
“I want to take you inside,” I murmured.
“Yes,” she whispered into my mouth.
With that one word, I stood and held tight to her, unwilling to part even for that short distance. My hands held her aloft by the ass, and her legs wrapped around my waist as I stepped out of the tub.
She devoured my lips, her passion fierce and sweet. I shoved my feet into the boots and managed to fling her robe over her to keep her from getting too chilled. My fiery blood would keep me warm. I carried her to the chalet, my injured leg barely twinging.
We made it inside, me kicking off my boots, ready to carry her up the stairs, but her shivering, damp body changed my mind.
The rug in front of the wood stove wasn’t some deep lush shag, but the spot proved toasty warm. I snared the blanket from the couch and flung it down. I tugged the damp robe free before lowering her onto it. Her bathing suit remained but rolled down to her waist.
It took me but a second to remove it and bare her fully to me. I stared and she opened her eyes, uncertainty filling them.
She still doubted.
“Fuck me, you’re gorgeous,” I growled before covering her body with mine, but bracing my weight on my forearms so as to not crush as I kissed her.
She latched on to me and writhed, her flesh rubbing against mine, teasing and driving me wild.
I wanted nothing more than to fuck her. To slam my cock in and make her mine. But I reined that impulse in because more than my own pleasure, I wanted hers. Tonight was all about her.
With my palms flat on the floor, I began to inch my way down, trailing kisses down her neck. Nuzzling the rounded globes of her breasts. Peach perfection. Her nipples were hard and sensitive to the touch. She gasped when my lips brushed them. Cried out when I sucked.
As I played with her tits, I shifted my body to the side that my hand might trail down her belly, dragging my fingers through her pubes, teasing between her legs.
She sighed and writhed, her panting and flushed skin the most powerful aphrodisiac. My fingers parted her pussy lips and met moisture, not from the tub. No, that slick honey was hers and hers alone.
And I needed a taste.
Now.
I positioned myself between her parted legs and she gasped as I blew hotly on her. Her hips bucked. I placed a hand on her belly to keep her in place as I did more than breathe. I licked. My tongue slipped between her lips and lapped. Ambrosia hit my tongue; her desire the sweetest taste.
I teased her sex before flicking her clit. That sensitive nub didn’t need much to have her arching and whimpering. I teased it. Flicked it. And as I drove her to the brink, slid a finger into her tight warmth.
She clenched and panted, reached down to grab my hair and the painful tugs almost made me come.
Her passion was all I needed. All I wanted.
Actually, not true. I wanted her to climax. Against my mouth. For me.
And as if my wish were heard, she did.
Her pussy clamped down hard on my finger and she uttered a keening noise, quickly muffled as she shoved a fist in her mouth.
Shame. I would have loved to hear the full scream.
But at least I felt her orgasm. The ripple as she came hard.
And then I did what I thought she needed most. I lay down beside her and drew her close to me, skin to skin.
Only she shoved away.
“We’re not done,” she announced.
I opened my mouth but couldn’t speak as she suddenly sat astride me, her hands tugging my damp swim shorts down, exposing me.
My manhood jutted proudly, but I couldn’t help but be reminded of my own scars. Much more terrible than hers.
And did she care?
Apparently not, because she licked her lips. “Now that’s what I call perfect.”
Geezus, that almost made me come. As it was, my cock jerked in response and then pulsed as she grabbed it.
I’d have been happy with that simple touch, but Nicky wanted more.
She wanted me.
She lifted her body and aligned it with my cock before lowering herself, taking me.
All of me.
Slowly, but fully.
I hissed and it was my turn to buck at the tight sensation of her gripping my dick with her pussy.
Her fingers splayed across my chest as she began to rock, her hips rolling and grinding her against me, taking me deep. So deep. And I could still feel the quiver of her orgasm. The heat of her. The honey soaking me.
My hands went to her hips to help her keep rhythm as her breathing grew ragged again. Surely, she wouldn’t come again?
The very thought was my undoing. I bit off a yell as my cock exploded and pleasure slammed me. A pleasure times ten as she did orgasm, her pussy suddenly clenching tight and spasming in waves that drained me dry and left me limp.
Sated.
And happy. Happier than I ever thought I’d feel again.
She collapsed against me, her head tucked under my chin, and my arms went around her. Maybe I wasn’t the right man for her, but in that moment, I knew I’d do anything for this woman who reminded me I might be broken, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t love.
“Are you done?” Percy grumbled suddenly, offering a rude ending to the most epic experience of my life.
I bit back a sigh, mostly because Nicky stiffened and exclaimed, “Did Zaza wake?” Even before she finished asking, she was rolling from me and grabbing at her damp rode to cover her body still flushed from pleasure.
A pleasure I’d given her.
And would give again, if she let me.
“Zaza’s still sleeping, but I’m hungry.” Percy poked at her belly.
This time, I didn’t try and stop the sigh. “Seriously?”
“Very.”
I might have been more pissed but for the fact Nicky leaned close for a kiss and said, “Thank you. That was so much better than I could have ever imagined.”
Fuck yeah, it was.
So good the nightmares didn’t come that night.