Tormentor Mine(72)

Even with the warm feeling in my chest, my hunger for her is dark, as violent as it is all-consuming.

“Hello, ptichka,” I murmur, watching the shock creep into her eyes as her gaze clears. “I’m sorry I was gone for so long. It couldn’t be helped.”

“You’re… you’re back.” Her chest rises up and down in an uneven rhythm, her nipples like hard pink berries on her deliciously round breasts. “What are you—why are you back?”

“Because I’d never leave you.” I lean down and inhale her scent, delicate and warm, as captivating as Sara herself. Lightly nibbling on her ear, I whisper against her neck, “Did you think I would just walk away?”

She shivers underneath me, her breathing speeding up, and I know if I reach between her legs, I’ll find her hot and wet, ready for me. She wants me—or at least her body does—and my cock throbs at the knowledge, eager to fill her, to feel the tight, slick embrace of her pussy. First, though, I want an answer to my question.

Raising my head, I pin her with my gaze. “Did you think I’d leave, Sara?”

Her face is a mask of confusion as she blinks up at me. “Well, yes. I mean, you were gone, and I thought—I hoped…” She stops, frowning. “Why did you leave if you didn’t get bored with me?”

“Bored with you?” Does she not realize that I literally think about her all the time, even in the heat of battle? That I can’t go an hour without checking on her whereabouts or spend a night without seeing her in my dreams? Holding her gaze, I slowly shake my head. “No, ptichka. I didn’t get bored with you—nor will I ever.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see her slender fingers flex, and I realize I’m still holding her wrists pinned next to her shoulders, my grip as tight as if I’m afraid she would escape. She wouldn’t, of course—even with my recent injury, she’s no match for my reflexes or strength—but I like having her like this, restrained underneath me, naked and helpless. It’s part of my fucked-up feelings for her, this need to dominate, to have her always at my mercy.

“Don’t,” she whispers, but her tongue flicks out to wet her soft pink lips, and the hunger within me intensifies, my balls tightening as blood rushes to my groin. There’s something so pure about her, something so gentle and innocent in the graceful lines of her heart-shaped face. It’s as if she’s been untouched by life, uncorrupted by all the vileness I deal with daily. It makes the things I want to do to her that much more dirty, that much more wrong, yet I know I will do them all.

Right and wrong has never been my strong suit.

Lowering my head, I taste her lips, keeping my kiss gentle despite the aching stiffness of my cock. Even with the dark urges gnawing at me, I don’t want to hurt her today—not after the last time. I still can’t define what she means to me, but I know she’s mine to care for, mine to coddle and protect. I don’t want her to fear pain from my touch—even if I sometimes want to inflict it.

I don’t know what I want from her, but I know it’s more than this.

She’s unresponsive at first, her lips sealed against the probing of my tongue, but I keep kissing her, and eventually, her lips soften, letting me into the warm recesses of her mouth. She tastes delicious, like a hint of minty toothpaste and herself, and I can’t suppress a groan as the head of my cock brushes against her inner thigh. I want to be inside her, to feel her hot, slick walls squeezing me tight, but I resist the temptation, focusing on seducing her, on giving her so much pleasure she’ll forget the pain I caused.

I don’t know how long I tease and caress her lips, but after a while, I feel the tentative touch of her tongue. She’s responding to me, kissing me back, and as her body softens underneath me, my heartbeat spikes, the need to have her drumming in my chest. Breathing raggedly, I move from her lips to the tender skin of her neck, then her collarbone and the plush softness of her breasts. She moans as my lips close over her nipple, and I feel her arch underneath me, her hips rising off the bed to press her pussy against me.

Growling low in my throat, I turn my attention to the other breast, sucking on it until Sara’s moans grow in volume, and she’s writhing underneath me, her hands flexing convulsively as I hold her wrists. When I lift my head, I see that her face is flushed, her eyes squeezed shut and her head tipped back in sensual abandon.

It’s time. Fuck, it’s way past time.

Releasing her nipple, I move up, lining my hard cock against the entrance to her body.

“Do you want this?” I ask hoarsely as her eyelids flutter open, revealing eyes hazy with desire. “Tell me you want this, ptichka. Tell me you missed me when I was gone.”