Page 204 of The Monster and the Masochist

“I’m the masochist. You’re the psycho. Don’t get it twisted.”

I lightly smacked her on the cheek again, and she laughed, grabbing me by the hips and flipping me onto the bed so she was the one straddling me now.

I squealed and giggled as she showered my face with sloppy kisses.

She kissed my throat, then my jaw. She brushed her lips against each cheek, then my forehead, and slowly, the playful energy sobered into something slower.

More tender.

Soon, her messy kisses turned deliberate and gentle.

My breath caught as she ran the tip of her nose from my temple to my lips, and I found myself sliding my fingers up into her hair as she slotted her hot, wet mouth against mine.

I sighed as my fingernails brushed against the coarse short hair on the shaved sides of her head, and she whimpered in my mouth as I worked out the elastic that tied the soft, longer pieces on top back and away from her gorgeous face.

“Cass…” She hummed against me as she nipped and sucked on my lower lip.

My chest squeezed with affection as she rocked her hips against mine. Heat began to pool low in my abdomen as she cupped the side of my face so she could control my head as she licked her way into my mouth. “Baby… I… I fucking love you so much,” she whispered, and a fierce wave of possessiveness rolled through me at her words.

“I love you too, Theo,” I murmured, tugging her closer into me so I could feel every inch of her pressed against me.

“I… I never thought I would hear you say that.” Her voice was rough, and when I opened my eyes, I found hers were filled with tears. “Last night you… You called me your wife. Did you… Did you mean that?” she asked softly. She was searching my face carefully, and though I felt like it should be obvious how much she meant to me, I knew my response to this question would set the tone for how our relationship progressed from here.

“Theodora, you are my wife.”

“Yeah, but… I thought… I thought it was supposed to be fake.”

I brushed a soft strand of her hair back behind her ear and shook my head.

“It hasn’t been fake for me for a long time,” I whispered, and the look of awe that spread across her perfect face was something I would treasure until the day I died.

I’d put that look on her face.

Me.

Cassandra Walker. The woman who had slit her own mother’s throat and went by the name Cuntzilla at work.

I’d somehow managed to create something soft, warm, and beautiful for myself. I’d found someone to love… someone who loved me back just as much.

Someone who smoothed out all my sharp edges and made me better… and somehow, I’d managed to make that person look at me like that.

Fuck.

I was the luckiest woman in the world.

“It… It was never fake for me,” Theo admitted. She cradled my face between both her hands, and she brushed a calloused thumb across my cheek, sweeping away a tear I hadn’t realized had fallen.

Wow. That was twice now she’d been able to make me cry…

After years of trying and failing to allow myself to cry, it turned out all I’d needed was Theodora.

She rested her forehead against mine and closed her eyes. She shook as she held herself over me, and her minty breath feathered across my lips.

“I’ve been in love with you for a long time, Cassandra. I never thought…” Her shoulders shook as she struggled to get a hold of her emotions. “I never thought you would ever love me back.”

“Baby…” I hummed, hooking a thumb under her jaw and tilting her head up so I could kiss her again.

“I love you so much it fucking hurts,” I murmured into her mouth. Sliding my hand up under her t-shirt, I traced my fingers up the warm skin of her side and reveled in the way she arched into my touch.