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“Kingston, you can’t say that, that’s dangerous,” she moans, biting her lip and honing in on me.
“My love for you is dangerous.”
She waits a moment, touching me with her hands, watching me with her eyes.
“I had a nightmare last night...that’s what triggered this.” She plays with my messy hair.
“What happened?” I ask, kissing her extended stomach right where our life is growing. I massage the back of her thighs to help relax her, easing her into it.
“Joel cheated on me all the time. All the time. And I gave him sex regularly, even though I didn’t want to. But he still cheated.” Mentioning sex with another man does nothing to calm me down. I have to force myself with great effort to stay calm and let her finish. Lana is communicating, that’s a big step, my caveman ways will have to slide onto a back burner.
“I’m sorry, but Lana, that isn’t me and what he did wasn’t because of you. He was sick, beautiful. Sick.” Men like Joel are mentally unstable, unable to love and unable to accept love. They want complete power, power over things they have no right to have.
“It’s okay, I just couldn’t imagine you cheating on me. I thought it hurt when he did it, and I didn’t love him the way I love you, Kingston. If you cheated on me, I would be devastated—reduced to nothing.” My eyes fly up and I almost fall backward from my abrupt movement.
“Did you just say you love me?” I ask, blinking rapidly, my hands still wrapped
around her thighs, her body still between my spread legs.
“Yes, I did. This is the part where you say ‘I love you’ back. Don’t leave me hanging.” She chuckles. Shit, I’m shell shocked. I don’t even know if I can formulate a coherent sentence. She said she loves me, this time all on her own free will.
Sliding my hands up her shirt and over the curve of her spine, I pull her onto my lap. She complies effortlessly, straddling me. Reaching up I cup her angelic face.
“I love you so fucking much Lana James. I will love you, forever.” Bringing my lips to hers, they meet with a force of passion. Tilting my head to get as deep into the kiss as I can, she laps at my tongue. My hands roam back down her back and move around to the front of her stomach. I keep kissing her with a heated fever, biting her lip every time I turn my head. She moans into each pull of her bottom lip. My hands play on her belly, my fingers barely touching her while they draw tiny circles. I feel her abs tighten while she grinds against my erection.
I make it just under her breasts and stop, aching to touch them but respecting her enough to stop. Her chest drops making her spine curl out and her kiss deepen.
“Touch them, take my shirt off and touch me,” she breaths out before lifting her arms. I look up at her, checking to make sure I didn’t just hear what I wanted, confirming she’s really giving me permission to do this.
“Really?” She nods biting the curve of her lip, giving me the keys to fucking heaven. My hands start fucking shaking. Holy shit. I, Kingston Donovan, am nervous.
Giving my man card a go, I buck up, my hands moving to the hem of her shirt. I lift my shirt off of her with shaking hands and the second it clears her body my cock hardens more than it already is and my heart lurches, fucking quits beating.
Her small tits look incredible, her pink nipples begging to be licked. I’m eyeing the suppleness of her chest when a ragged scar down the side of her left breast catches my attention. I slide my index finger down it gently and she hisses. Reaching up with her hands she covers her chest, shielding her perfect breasts from me. The second I saw the scar I knew immediately it wasn’t a scar from an accident, that shit was purposely put there. I growl pulling her hands away from her chest.
“What did he do, baby?”
“Nothing.” She’s shutting down, keeping more secrets.
“Don’t lie to me, Lana. What did he do?” I lean forward and kiss each rose colored nipple, then the faint white scar.
Exhaling on a deep ragged breath she confesses. “Remember that summer, the one I quit wearing tank tops and bikinis?” I flash back to the first time I saw her in a one piece. I was peeved that she was covering her beautiful body because I was desperate to see what I couldn’t have.
“Yeah, unfortunately. You looked delicious in fucking tank tops.”
“Joel told me I couldn’t wear tank tops anymore because it teased other men and it made me look like I was asking for it.” She gulps, adjusting herself on my lap, getting closer to me, asking for my protection. I pull her flush against me and surge my strength into her. She sits up straighter and I smile inwardly. Lana felt it.
“Go ahead, Lana.” Kissing between her breasts I gaze back up to her.
“When I got home after one incident with me wearing something he didn’t approve of, he brushed it off and was actually nice to me for the rest of the night. Then in the middle of the night,” she pauses, her lip quivers and her body shakes with each inhale and exhale of breath. My fists clench then release, up and around her back, pulling her closer. He fucking cut her, I know it, she doesn’t even have to tell me. Red hot blood boils in me like lava waiting to simmer. If I ever see that man again I may just kill him. Lana is scared. My Queen is scared.
“Come on baby, you got this, stay strong.” Looking to the window in her living room her face turns to stone. Not attempting to hide her fallen tears, she presses on.
“I felt this sharp pain in my sleep and I awoke, panicked. He was cutting my chest with a pocket knife. He told me this way I could no longer wear bikinis and no man would see my disgusting body. He said he did mankind a favor for keeping a beast like me covered.” I would throw her off me and fly my ass to Utah and beat his ass again if he wasn’t locked up. I knew about most of the abuse but she never told me this. I would have drawn the line if she would have told me. I would have taken that pocket knife and fucking castrated him. My heart snaps in two, because we are one. When she is wrecked, my heart is half of a whole, acting for its other part.
“You’re so strong, sweetie.” I tangle my hand in her hair and pull her face toward me, our foreheads touching.
“No I’m not. I wasn’t strong, I have scars to prove it.” I tug her hair a little tighter.
