Page 64 of Tainted Blood
“You love me,” I whisper.
“I love you,” he confirms, dark eyes blazing. “And I’d rather die than see you walk out of that door tomorrow.”
“If you love something—”
“Lock it up and throw away the key,” he says, lining his cock up with my pussy again, but, this time, for the first time, his words are an empty threat.
When he starts fucking me for the second time, his desperation is just as raw as mine.
Chapter Eighteen
Santi
Sunrise spreads her colors across the Atlantic City skyline, and Thalia’s decision is still a hollow echo in my mind. There’s no more night to hold on to. No more watching the minutes tick away on the clock.
It’s a new day, and our end.
And there’s not a fucking thing I can do about it.
Turning away from the window, I watch her sleeping, her dark hair fanned out across the pillowcase. I brush a stray lock of it away from her face, telling myself that the memory of last night is enough, but it’s an empty vow.
I trace my finger across her delicate jawline, skating the edges of her bruises. Every instinct I have is demanding I lock all the doors until I can prove to her that I’m the only one who can heal her.
I can’t force her to stay, though. Not this time. Not after what she’s been through. If I take away her freedom again, not only will I lose her forever, I’ll be no better than Zaccaria. I’d rather put a gun to my head than become another monster in her nightmares.
Still, as much as she’s changed me, I’m still a selfish man.
I still want, and I still demand.
I still need...
Trailing my hand down the length of her neck, I take hold of the white bedsheet and yank it to her waist, exposing her small breasts. Brushing my fingers lightly over one dusky-pink nipple, my cock twitches as she moans and tosses her head from side to side,
Thinking dark thoughts, I tug the rest of the sheet away until she’s fully bared to me. This time, I’m not filled with rage at seeing the red and purple marks on her skin. She doesn’t know it yet, but there’s a beauty in her scars. Each one is a test of survival. Each one a badge of strength.
She’s still sleeping, Santi...
The man who saved her from that cellar knows what I’m doing right now is wrong, but the man who feeds off our violent connection doesn’t give a shit about the rules. He’s the one in control now. Before Thalia walks out that door, I’ll be taking my fill of her anyway I can.
There’s an edge of warning in the air, but I don’t listen as I part her thighs.
Even in her sleep, she’s wet for me, her lips glistening like a promise of glory. It’s a heavy hit straight to my dick, seeing her gorgeous cunt splayed out like this. It’s all I can do not to drive in so deep she’ll never be free of us.
But this isn’t just about my wants and needs. It’s about showing her that a bastard like me can still give as well as take.
I lower my head and groan, the scent of her arousal, hypnotic.
The moment the first taste hits my senses, I’m lost—so fucking lost. My wife is like the sweetest sin.
I swirl my tongue in circles, savoring her, teasing her, memorizing her, as Thalia lets out another soft and tortured moan. My cock jerks at the sound. When I glance up, her eyes are still closed, but she’s no longer asleep. She’s walking a threadbare line between a dream state and reality, and it’s one I intend to blur with more fucking pleasure than her body can handle.
I wrap my lips around her clit and suck hard. When she pants my name, I slide two fingers inside her slick heat, pumping in and out—creating a perfect rhythm—as her juices leak out, soaking my skin and the bedsheets beneath her.
Her pants turn to helpless whimpers, as she draws her knees up, toes curling, her fingers seeking out my hair. Nothing will ever dull this flame.
“Santi...”
This time when she says my name, there’s no hushed lull. It’s clear and present. My firebird is awake.