Chapter Four #2
A growl rattled through his chest, and with a confident touch, he reached between them and unfastened the fly of her jean shorts.
Roughly, he pushed them down her thighs and she tried to kick out of them completely.
Her shoes had to go because the shorts got caught, so she kicked out of them quickly as he undid his jeans.
His torso was fire against her skin. Maybe from healing like he was, hopefully not from fever. Either way, she didn’t care right now. She needed him buried inside of her.
“Please,” she gasped out as he shoved his jeans down to his thighs.
Dame took himself in hand and angled the head of his cock to her entrance.
“Deeeep,” she pleaded, and he slid into her slowly, stretching her.
She was so wet and ready, all it felt was good.
When he buried himself in her to the hilt, she gasped his name and clawed her nails against his back. He pulled back and pushed into her again, pulled back, pushed. Pulled. Pushed.
She was already panting nonsensical noises as he built the pressure inside of her body. God, nothing had ever felt this good! He was working her so fast. “Dame!” she yelled.
“Come on. Come for me,” he gritted out in a snarling demand she needed to obey. She had to!
“Fuck!” she yelled as her body gripped him with overwhelming pleasure.
He slammed into her harder. Harder. Faster.
“Fuck, Dame!” she yelled, gripping his shoulders as tight as she could.
“Want it?” he gritted out.
“I need it!”
He yelled this guttural sound and bucked into her deep, spraying her with warmth on her insides. Pulses of heat filled her as she chanted his name mindlessly.
His kiss traveled to her neck, and he bit her gently there. He trailed those biting kisses down her throat to her collar one as he moved slowly within her.
Her body was still on fire with aftershocks when he reached the two thin scars on her arm.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured.
“Sorry for what?”
“I can’t have his claw marks on you anymore.”
She frowned, feeling drunk and confused.
“I have to mark you,” he murmured, searching her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
Oooh. Now she understood. She didn’t know how she knew, but he didn’t want his brother’s claw marks on her skin. There was some instinct inside of him that was telling Dame he needed to change it.
His eyes were so raw, so vulnerable. “I’m sorry,” he said again.
Misty swallowed hard and nodded. “Do it.”
He leaned down and kissed her, brushing his tongue against hers.
The snick of her skin startled her, but it was fast. He pushed into her deep again, and she spread her knees wider to invite him closer.
He eased up and looked at her arm and then kissed her again as he pushed into her harder.
She panted a helpless noise, pleading with him. One more time. Please.
Snick.
The way he fucked her this time was gentle. It was slow and controlled and all for her. He dragged an orgasm from her body and she was completely boneless. Boneless and mindless.
She could feel warmth trickling down her arm, but it didn’t hurt. It just tingled.
He pushed into her, pulled out. Slowly, Dame eased out of her kiss and leaned over, then dragged his tongue up her arm slowly. It still didn’t hurt. He licked her again, pushed into her, and she was there.
She gasped and hugged him tightly as her release pulsed through her.
Her legs were shaking. Her entire body was shaking with the heated pleasure he was putting her through.
He licked her arm again, his hand massaging the back of her neck.
He was…caring for her.
In this animalistic way, he was taking care of her body.
It still didn’t hurt. It just felt tingly as he cleaned her.
Two more laps of his tongue and he pushed up and searched her eyes, just inches from her face.
His chest heaved, and uncertainty swam in his eyes.
She knew this was all supposed to hit her like a brick wall.
A couple of the cuts on his stomach had opened and had smeared on her skin.
Her arm was cut in two places. Her old scars were open.
He was buried deep inside of her, this man who wasn’t human, this man who had saved her years ago.
This man who had come to her when he thought he was dying. That was it, wasn’t it?
He followed her on social media to keep up with her.
He’d come to her last night not knowing if she could even save him.
He’d come to her.
“You’ve been protecting me all this time, haven’t you?” she asked in a whisper.
His nostrils flared with his inhalation of breath. Slowly, Dame nodded.
She offered him a smile.
She didn’t want to run. She had no urge. This wasn’t normal, but she liked it right here, and she didn’t care what that said about her.
This moment, whatever it looked like from the outside, it felt right to her.
She was lying on the dry mess his injuries had left last night. His blood was on her stomach. She reached up and wiped a spot of her blood from the bottom of his lip where he’d cleaned her arm. His eyes were so bright. So inhuman.
He’d marked her, and it meant something she couldn’t understand yet.
She was supposed to run, right?
“I’m sorry,” he murmured again.
Misty leaned up and kissed his lips, then cupped his cheeks as she relaxed back under his weight. “Don’t be,” she whispered.