Chapter 7 #3
Her smile turns knowing and yet she still asks, "What do you have planned for now, then?"
"Now I make you mine."
I strip her slowly, reverently, peeling away denim and lace until she's spread beneath me.
The sunlight gilds her skin in gold, catching the curve of her breasts, the dip of her waist, the soft folds between her thighs already wet with her arousal.
A bead of moisture catches the light there, and my mouth waters at the sight.
I start at her throat, pressing my lips to the flutter of her pulse, feeling it jump against my mouth. She sighs, her fingers threading the length of my hair, and I take that as permission to continue my descent.
I trace my tongue over the line of her collarbone, dipping into the hollow at the base of her throat where her taste concentrates, salt and sweetness mingled together.
I find a freckle and circle it with the tip of my tongue before moving to the next one, mapping the scattered constellations across her chest.
"Kon..." My name comes out breathy, broken, when I reach the swell of her breast.
I close my mouth over one peaked nipple and she gasps, her back arching off the chaise, pressing herself deeper against my tongue. I lavish attention there until she's squirming, then move to the other side while my hand palms the breast I just abandoned, keeping her nerve endings firing.
Lower still. I press my lips to the purple shadow on her ribs, then the fading bruise on her hip, breathing warmth against the damaged flesh. A silent apology for every man who ever hurt her. She sighs, her fingers gentling in my hair, and something cracks open in my chest.
I shoulder between her thighs, spreading her open before me. She's glistening, swollen, her arousal mingling with the scent of roses until my head spins. I press a kiss to the inside of one thigh, then the other, watching goosebumps race across her skin.
The first stroke of my tongue through her folds tears a cry from her throat that echoes across the rooftop. Her thighs clamp around my head, her fingers fisting in my hair hard enough to sting. I grip her hips and feast on her, licking and sucking and learning exactly what makes her fall apart.
When I seal my lips around the swollen bud at the apex and suck while sliding two fingers inside her tight heat, she shatters with a scream, her entire body bowing off the chaise.
I work her through it, gentling my touch as the aftershocks roll through her, until she collapses back against the cushions, chest heaving, eyes glazed.
Above us, the roses sway in the breeze, scattering petals across her flushed skin.
"Please. Now, Kon." She's writhing beneath me, desperate, reaching for me with hands that shake. "Kon, please, I need—"
"Tell me." I drag my thumb through her slick folds, circling the bundle of nerves but not giving her the pressure she craves. "Tell me what you need, огонёк."
"You." Her voice breaks on the word. "I need you. Inside me. Please."
I shed the rest of my clothes and settle between her thighs, the blunt head of my cock nudging her entrance.
The heat of her sears through me, impossibly hot, impossibly inviting.
She's so wet I could slide home in one thrust, but I hold back, watching her face, giving her one last chance to change her mind.
"This will hurt," I warn her. "I'll try to be gentle, but—"
"I don't want gentle." Her hands grip my hips, pulling me toward her, her nails biting crescents into my skin. "I want you. All of you. Don't hold back."
I push forward, slow but relentless, feeling her body stretch to accommodate me inch by inch.
She's tight, impossibly tight, her walls gripping me with a pressure that makes my arms shake where they're braced on either side of her head.
Her nails dig deeper into my biceps, leaving marks I'll wear for days.
The slick sound of our bodies joining fills the air between us, obscene and perfect.
Her face contorts briefly as I breach the barrier of her innocence, and I freeze, every muscle in my body screaming to move while I force myself to wait. A thin sheen of sweat breaks out across my forehead. My jaw aches from clenching.
"Okay?" The word comes out strangled, barely human.
"Okay." She nods, adjusting beneath me, her inner walls rippling around my length in a way that nearly undoes me. "Don't stop. Please don't stop."
I move. Slow at first, letting her body adjust, letting the pleasure replace the pain.
Her eyes flutter closed and her lips part around soft sounds that climb higher with every thrust. I angle my hips, searching, and when I find that spot inside her that makes her cry out, I focus all my attention there.
The sun beats down on my back, hot and insistent, drawing sweat from my pores. The scent of roses fills my lungs with every ragged breath. And beneath me, this woman who walked into my life with questions and demands and stubborn defiance comes apart more beautifully than any sunset I've ever seen.
I pull back slowly, watching where our bodies connect, and the sight of her virgin blood streaking my cock punches the air from my lungs.
Something primal roars to life in my chest, possessive and feral and utterly beyond my control.
My balls draw up tight against my body and my cock swells impossibly harder inside her, thick and throbbing with a need that borders on pain.
"Blyad'." The curse tears out of me, rough and reverent. "Look what you give me, огонёк. Look what you trust me with."
She tries to lift her head, to see what I'm seeing, but I thrust back into her and her head falls back against the cushion with a moan.
"You're mine now." I pull out again, slow, deliberate, watching the pink-tinged evidence of her innocence coat my shaft. "No one else will ever have this. Ever touch you like this." I drive back in and she cries out, her walls fluttering around me. "Say it."
"Yours." The word comes out broken, desperate. "I'm yours."
"Good girl." I set a rhythm now, deep and steady, each stroke dragging against that spot inside her that makes her keen. "Your hands, Onyx. Put them on your breasts."
Her eyes flutter open, hazy and unfocused. "What?"
"Touch yourself for me." I slow my thrusts, making each one count, grinding against her clit at the apex of every stroke. "Show me how you like to be touched."
Color floods her cheeks, but her hands drift up her body. She cups her breasts and when her fingers find her nipples and squeeze, her inner walls clench around me so tight I see stars.
"That's it." My voice has dropped to gravel, barely recognizable. "Harder."
She obeys, pinching and rolling, her back arching to press her breasts more firmly into her own hands. The sight of her spread beneath me, flushed and wanton, pleasuring herself while I fuck her slow and deep, nearly ends me right there.
"Kon, I can't... I'm going to—"
"Let go." I pound into her now, abandoning finesse for raw need, chasing her release with my own. "Come for me, огонёк. Come on my cock. Let me feel you."
Her orgasm crashes through her, her body clenching around me in rhythmic pulses that drag me over the edge with her.
I bury myself to the hilt as my release rips through me, spilling hot and deep inside her, marking her, claiming her, filling her with everything I have.
Her back arches off the chaise, her fingers still twisted around her nipples, my name torn from her throat like it's the only word she knows.
I collapse over her, catching my weight on my forearms, my forehead pressed against hers as we both gasp for breath. Our hearts pound against each other through sweat-slicked skin.
The city hums far below, a distant reminder of the world beyond this rooftop sanctuary. Her fingers trace lazy patterns across my back, following the lines of ink and scar tissue, and I sense the questions building behind her silence.
"Later," I murmur against her hair, breathing in the scent of her sweat and my soap and something that's purely us. "I promise. Everything."
"I'm going to hold you to that."
"I know you will."
She laughs softly, the vibration traveling through my chest and settling somewhere warm and unfamiliar. I press a kiss to her forehead, then her nose, then her lips, soft and sweet and nothing like the hungry devouring of before.
I could stay here forever. In this garden. With this woman. With the sun on my skin and roses perfuming the air and the weight of something I never thought I'd feel pressing against my ribs.
But the world doesn't stop for moments like this. It never does.
Eventually, she stirs beneath me. "I should probably..." She gestures vaguely toward the stairs.
"Shower. Rest." I roll to the side, letting her up while keeping one hand on her hip like I can't bear to break contact completely. "I have calls to make."
"Of course you do." She sits up, gorgeous and disheveled and thoroughly fucked, a rose petal caught in her tangled hair. She reaches for my shirt where it lies abandoned. "Mind if I borrow this?"
"It looks better on you anyway."
She shrugs into the fabric, my shirt hanging to her mid-thigh, and I watch her button it with a possessive satisfaction that borders on primal. She's wearing my clothes. She smells like me. She's mine in ways I didn't know I wanted until this very moment.
She pauses at the door to the stairs, glancing back at me over her shoulder with a smile that's pure trouble. The sunlight catches her face, illuminating the flush on her cheeks and the swollen curve of her lips.
"Kon?"
"Da?"
"Sex for secrets. That was the deal." Her grin widens, mischief dancing in those blue eyes. "You might want to start thinking about what questions you want answered."
Then she disappears down the stairs, snagging the railing for balance on legs that are clearly still unsteady, leaving me alone in my garden with the lingering scent of her on my skin.
I look down at my hands. At the scratches her nails left across the tops of my shoulders and ones I can feel sting along my back.
I hope they scar. They'll match the marks this woman has left on my heart.