I thrust in and out, slow then fast, and then I give her what I know she needs.
I bring my fingers to her clit and circle it slowly. Her pussy clenches around my cock, and I know that she’s close. She was always so sensitive, and I fucking love it.
I continue to tease her with my fingers, keeping pace, not slowing or speeding up. “Sing for me, pretty bird. Let me see you burn.”
That’s all it takes.
The grip she has on me is spiritual, unlike anything that should be allowed to exist on this fucked-up planet. I pull out before I release inside her and coat her soft, scared belly.
My grip releases her throat, and she takes a full breath in, muscles still quaking under me and around me. I lean over her and kiss her swollen lips. “Fuck, you’re so pretty when you burn, little phoenix.”
I get off the bed and pull my pants up, zipping them again. I make my way to her bathroom and dampen a washcloth that I find under her sink then come back and clean her. When I go into the small kitchen, I note that she will need to move in with me because I cannot cook in a kitchen like this.
Walking back into her room after getting her a glass of water, I find her sitting up, knees clenched to her chest. It seems my brave little phoenix comes out to play when she wants my cock, but my timid pretty bird is here now. Probably lost in guilt and regret in that self-destructive little head of hers.
“Don’t run from me, Leo. Talk to me. We cannot repeat the same mistakes. Here.”
I hand her the glass of water, and she takes it from me. When she takes a small sip, she tries to hand it back, but I give her a look that says more, and she rolls her eyes.
“You didn’t used to be this bossy.”
“Shit happened. I changed.”
I didn’t mean it to hurt, but I can see the sting my comment left on her heart. But she complies, taking another drink, drinking down half this time.
“I don’t know what to say.” She’s running the pad of her finger against the rim of the glass. Her nervous tick.
“We can figure that all out tomorrow.”
Confusion envelopes her face as she looks me in the eyes now. “You’re not leaving?”
“Fuck no. You’d have to carry me out in a body bag to get me to leave you right now. No, I’m going to hold you, and you are going to sleep. And tomorrow, we are going to talk about our family and how we re-build.”
She is silent for a moment. Then, as always, she relents. “Okay.”
Warmth envelopes me. My eyes remain closed, but his smell, his leather and cinnamon aroma, infiltrates my mind. Serenity. Peace. Calm.
Finally.
For eight years, I have woken each morning in pain. In the cold. But he is here. Am I hallucinating again? Is this real?
My heart-wings flutter, making a breath catch in my throat, and there’s the familiar burn of tears trapped behind my eyes. I am flooded with what I did. What I didn’t do.
I didn’t trust him.
I didn’t run to him.
I ran from him, and I took his son away from him. I took Rune’s father away from him all over a letter that I should have known was not mine.
How utterly foolish. Shame and guilt and heavy despair fill my limbs, my chest, and now my hummingbird heart is drowning. She doesn’t deserve to fly.
“I can feel you thinking, pretty bird. Stop.” His gravelly morning voice is right at my ear, and then a kiss is placed to my cheek, my neck, my shoulder. His hand snakes around the front of me and grips my throat. My mind flashes back to last night when this grip stole my breath, but this morning it gives me breath. His loving touch reminds me to breathe, to pull in oxygen, and it lifts the wings of my broken heart.
“Ev…” My voice cracks as the tears fall.
“I got you.”
He turns me so I am on my back, and then he hovers over me, protecting me, shielding me from my own pain. The way he can read me is unbelievable. How I could ever think this man would leave me in a letter is unfathomable. I feel like a complete idiot.
