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He kissed me until I forgot where I was. Forgot who I was. All that mattered was him. My world narrowed to where we touched. To the feelings he evoked in me.

“Please.” My hands dug into his chest as I pressed down on him. There was too much between us. The lace of my underwear. The sheets. They needed to go. “I want you so bad I’m aching for it.”

“I’ll take care of you.” He kissed down my neck. “Forever.”

I flinched as his hand trailed up my thighs, running along my scars, but it passed when he pushed aside my lace thong and plunged two fingers deep inside me. I jerked and gasped at the sudden intrusion.

Without the alcohol, I felt everything. He was so much bigger than I realized. Even a couple of thick fingers, and he was stretching me.

“So fucking tight.” I was drenched for him, but I couldn’t find it in me to be embarrassed. He continued to pump in and out of me as I rocked my hips. “That’s right, fuck yourself on my fingers. Take what you want.”

“I want you.” I moaned as his thumb pressed down on my clit. Electricity burst beneath my skin and embarrassingly quick I reached my peak.

“Soon.” He bent his head forward and sucked my aching nipple into his mouth. My palms brushed through the short strands of his hair as I pushed further into him. The lace abraded my skin; the dual sensations drove me crazy. He kissed between my breasts as he moved to the other side. “Be a good girl and come for me first. You want to be my good girl, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then come. Get your pussy all soft and wet and ready for my cock.”

“Yes. Yes. Yes.” I chanted as he closed his mouth around my other nipple.

I rocked and panted as my core clenched. I was so close. My limbs tightened. The explosion built inside me.

His lips ghosted across my neck as he reached the sensitive spot below my ear. His hand was wicked. Curling and pressing into all the right spots. Like he’d been studying how to touch me. Like he was a master at making me feel good.

“Come.” He commanded as he pushed in another finger.

I detonated around his hand. My limbs locked, and my fingers dug into his scalp as ecstasy coursed through my veins. My entire body was on fire as my muscles tightened and released.

Little tremors ran across my skin as he continued to pump inside me. Letting me ride out the last of the pleasure as I came back down.

“So fucking beautiful when you come for me.”

He peppered soft kisses along my neck. My cheeks. My eyes. My lips. I pressed back until my tongue was tangling with his.

I closed my eyes and savored the feel of someone else’s gentle touch on my body. All I’d known was violence. This was foreign. And perfect.

Then he reached for the hem of my negligee, and the perfect bubble popped. I reacted without thinking, smacking his hand aside as I tried to scoot off his lap.

“Don’t do that, Sunflower.” He sighed as he gripped my hips gently, keeping me in place. I knew if I wanted to go, he’d let me. But I didn’t.

Embarrassment bloomed on my cheeks, and I glanced away from him. “I don’t want you to see me.”

My words pierced the silence like a gunshot. The blush crept down my neck and chest, coating me in shame. I’d fought so hard against those feelings. I spent years telling myself that it wasn’t my fault. That I had no way out. And it was true. But it didn’t stop me from wishing I’d done more.

“Grace, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” He said, as if he could read my thoughts. “You’re gorgeous. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

“I’m not beautiful. My scars—.”

“Make you who you are,” Vander brushed the few exposed on my upper thighs. “It means you lived. Survived.”

I wanted to believe him. Wished I could still be beautiful.

“We all have scars.” He grabbed my hand and brought it to a circular scar below his collarbone. Tattoos covered his chest, but I could feel the raised skin. Just make out its shape in the dark. “Bullet from when I got caught off guard.”

He moved my hand down and ran my fingers along a scar, cutting through his rib cage adorned in more black ink. “Knife wound from when a guy thought he could betray me. The scars don’t make you less beautiful. They make you more.”

My throat felt tight as the emotions welled up inside me. How could I believe he was a monster? He might live among them. Rule them. But he wasn’t one of them.

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