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“That’s right. Hidden in plain sight.”
“I love it.” Her eyes sparkle when they meet mine again.
“I hoped you would.” I lift her hand from my arm and kiss her fingertips. “You’re always with me.” Instead of kissing her fingers, I brush my lips against hers this time. When she parts them to touch her tongue to mine, it’s all I can do not to growl into her mouth.
I roll us from our sides until she’s under me, then take my time touching her. Giving her the chance to stop things. She doesn’t, encouraging me with her breathless sighs when I unbutton her jeans and helping me work them over her hips and down her legs.
It’s when I work her sweater up over her tits, preparing to toss it on the floor with my shirt, she freezes. I do the same. “What is it? You need to stop?”
She shakes her head, but her scrunched expression tells another story. Her eyes are squeezed shut, her mouth set in a painful line. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t want you to see. It’s so ugly.”
“Nothing about you is ugly.”
“It is. A… scar.”
I don’t remember her having scars—
Motherfucker. It wasn’t enough to violate her. One of them had to leave a permanent mark. I call on every ounce of my control to keep from tearing the room apart and making things worse.
She’s still distressed, which softens my rage. “Whatever it is,” I murmur, “it’s a sign of how resilient you are. Brave. Strong. It doesn’t have to be an unhappy reminder. It can remind you of how much you’ve overcome.”
“But it’s so ugly.”
“It belongs to you, which means it isn’t.” My heart is in my throat just the same as she pulls her arms free and raises the sweater over her shoulders. There it is. One of them fucking bit her hard enough to leave a scar.
I’d take it away if it meant wiping out every last memory of that ordeal. All I can do is lower my head and press my lips against it. “You’re still perfect,” I announce before kissing it again.
When I lift my head to look at her, there are tears in her eyes. But she’s smiling. “Thank you.”
I answer with one kiss, then another, and soon we’re too wrapped up in each other for any more words.
Every step of the way, I expect her to stop me, but she doesn’t. When I remove her bra and cup her tits. When I take her nipples into my mouth, reacquainting myself with their taste and the way she claws my shoulders when I tongue them. I kiss a trail down her body, worshiping every inch of skin my lips touch.
Her panties are plastered over her soaked pussy. I look up at her, questioning, and she answers by tugging the waistband down over her hips, nodding. Her aroma makes my mouth water, and the sight of her excitement coating her lips has my cock threatening to burst out of my jeans. I have to open my fly to relieve the pressure before diving into her pink, dripping folds.
But slowly. Carefully. This isn’t taking ownership or claiming what I want. It’s making sure she knows I still want her. She’s still as gorgeous and hot and perfect as ever. Nothing can ever take that away, and she needs to know it.
I tell her with every sweep of my tongue over her lips, every drop of nectar I lap up, every probe of my tongue against her dripping hole. She’s so brave, giving herself to me, opening up again. She deserves all the pleasure she can handle.
It’s not long before she’s riding my face, and I let her do it, giving her what she needs most while her body takes the rest. My approving groans only push her higher, and by the time her thighs squeeze tight enough to deafen me, I understand there’s more to this than satisfying my needs or even gratifying my ego by making her scream my name.
It’s still just as gratifying to hear it, though, so loud even her thighs can’t block out the sound of my name repeated until she loosens her grip and falls back against the mattress.
She’s lost in a fog of satisfaction, her body flushed, her chest rising and falling with every ragged breath. “Mmm… that was nice.”
“Seemed like you enjoyed it,” I point out, chuckling between kisses against her inner thighs while her fingers run through my hair. Every fiber of my being is screaming its need to be inside her. My cock aches, the wet spot on my shorts a testament to how much her arousal turns me on. I’ve never had to fight the urge like this. I’ve never met anybody worth the fight until now.
When I stretch out over her again, she takes my face in her hands and draws it closer to kiss. “Thank you.” Her legs wrap around my hips, drawing me closer. It’s agony, holding back when my covered cock pushes up against her pussy.
