Cain's Darkness(20)
“I just want to make sure you’re okay, make sure you’re safe and that you never know pain again.”
She didn’t answer right away, just ran her tongue around her pink, slightly parted and glossy lips. And then when Violet exhaled softly, pressed her breasts against his chest, he knew he was done for. “I’ve waited a long time for this, led my life because I didn’t know you’d ever see me as anything more than a girl, but I’ve wanted you regardless.”
“Baby, we should go slow, take things easy and one day at a time because of what happened—”
“I know what happened back then, and I am not letting it shape who I am. I am not a damaged girl that lets some motherfucker hurt me for the rest of my life.”
He stared at her face, knew that although she had this strong composure to her, she also had this vulnerability. He wanted to make sure she was okay, didn’t know if there were a lot of deep, scarred and dark rooted nightmares inside of her because that fucker had taken her innocence. But she wasn’t pushing him away, and in fact was almost pleading with him to take away her pain.
“I want to replace those memories with ones with you, Cain. I’ve been trying to do that my entire life, and without any of it working. But I know being with you, feeling every part of you, will help. Please, Cain, God, I need this.”
He stared at her, not about to make her suffer, because he couldn’t stand to see this woman hurt or in any kind of pain. “Dammit, Violet.” He clenched his hand in her hair and pulled her close again to take her mouth in a possessive kiss.
They panted against each other’s mouths, and then he broke the kiss to remove her shirt and then her bottoms. She didn’t stop him, and in fact moaned out. Once the material was removed their lips latched back together, and their tongues pressed each against the other.
Violet brought her hands to the front of his jeans and fumbled with the button, and although his heart was pounding fast and fierce, and the need to be the one to take control of the situation rose up in him, he let her lead. She needed this, or at least he thought she did, and he’d do anything for her. Fuck, he’d do anything for Violet. But he noticed her hands shook, and Cain covered her hands with one of his and released the button of his jeans. His erection pressed demandingly against the denim, and all he could think about was that she was here, with him, and smelling and tasting so fucking good.
Mouths still latched in a demanding kiss, Cain gripped her hips, turned her around, and led her back toward the kitchen table. Never removing his lips from hers, he slowly lowered his zipper, pushed his jeans down, and groaned deeply when his cock pressed right against her soft, warm flesh. She was so fucking curvy and thick, shaped like a woman, and he loved it, loved every inch of her. Violet wasn’t a shrinking Violet, pun intended, and when she placed her hand on his cock, a groan ripped from him.
“Baby, I want to make sure this is really what you want, and that this arousal pulsating between us, consuming us, isn’t what is fueling you.” He pulled back and cupped her cheeks with his hands. God, her flesh was so pale, almost luminescent against his tanned, scarred, and calloused flesh. She was perfect in every way, so delicate and vulnerable, but innocent and trusting.
“Believe me when I say this isn’t a need because of the arousal, Cain.” She licked her lips, her hand still on his cock, and then said in a softer voice, “This is what I want, what I need. I’m ready.”
Her bra still covered the mounds of her breasts, and she wanted the offending material off. Cain pulled back only long enough to take off his cut and set it aside, and grab his t-shirt behind his head, pulling it up and off. He wanted to feel her skin against his, feel her softness to his hardness. He wanted to claim her like there wasn’t anyone else in the world for either of them.
****
Violet pushed Cain’s shirt up almost frantically, and once again their kiss broke apart for a split second. The air whooshed out of her when she glanced down at his exposed chest. God, he was so hard, so defined and muscular. He had tattoos that lined both of his arms from wrist to shoulder, and the Brothers of Menace patch he had inked on the side of his abdomen told her this man was in his club for life. She knew that patch well, had lived around it nearly her entire life, and had been taken care of by men who wore it like a badge of honor. She saw Fallina’s name inked on his inner bicep, strong, Old English style letters that told her this man wanted his daughter’s name on his body forever because he cared about her so much. He was a good father, a good man, despite the horrific, illegal things he did, or the fact he didn’t think he was good enough for her.