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I slowly bring myself down on his thick shaft, and this causes us both to groan out our pleasure.
“Say it, Theo,” I moan loudly, grinding and circling my hips.
He keeps rubbing at my thighs, groaning, “You are mine, and I’m yours. You own this cock, this man, this armor.” I gasp when he thrusts up into me and throw my head back. “Not so good at control when you’re being dicked down by my big cock in that tight pussy, are you?”
I realize I’m not fully as in control as I wanted to be, but I can’t help it. Regaining it, I reel in the pleasure and focus myself again.
I keep a tight hold on the knife and lean forward. “Worship me then. Tell me all the things you love about me.”
“You want words? Or actions?” He hisses when I tighten the grip on the knife and bend to bite his chin.
“Both.” And before I can even blink, he moves us, fast, flipping us and taking the knife from me. This time, repeating the action, he fucks up into me with so much force I feel I will be split in half.
He drags the knife down between my breasts and to my stomach. “I love this belly. So beautiful. So perfect. The feel of it in my hands.” He’s sitting up now, using one strong arm to have my hips lifted enough for him to start slowly sliding in and out of me. “To know it’s mine. To know you hated it and now love it. Your confidence fuels my desire for you, Hanna. You came into your own skin, puppet.”
He moves the knife to my thighs, tracing it along the T he carved, and all over my indentations. I cry out, suddenly insecure. How come? I don’t know, but in this state, I am drowning in my insecurities. Moments ago, I was proud and loving the body I’m in, but seeing the type of man Theo is, strong, muscular, and leaning above me with not one flaw, I start to cry.
“You think I’m lying?” He takes the knife, puts it to his palm, and cuts it.
I immediately panic. “Theo, baby! What are you doing?”
He starts bleeding and lets the fresh blood hit my skin.
“Theo!” He doesn’t answer, and when I try to sit up, he pushes me back down and grabs my hand, still thrusting into me, but then he does something—something I wasn’t ready for. He takes the blade and nicks my hand a little, and I yelp out.
He clasps our hands and mixes our blood together, entwining us as he takes it and smears our joined blood over my thighs.
“You’re mine, and I’m yours. Your body is my temple, and I’ll fucking worship it.” He rubs it into my thighs, and the sight is disturbing but beautiful.
He then takes our hands and places them above my head and begins to fuck me mercilessly.
“You’re everything I waited for. No one compared. And no one will. You’re mine. Blood with blood. Marks with marks. And even in death, I’m yours, and you. Are. Mine.” He enunciates as he pounds into me, and with that, we both reach the peak, bliss claiming us and spreading from head to toe, through my body and into his.
Now, we really are one.
“Even in my shadows, I found your light,” I whisper, my bloody hand cupping his face when the dust settles and we come down from our high.
“And my secrets brought me to you.” He drops his forehead to mine, and we breathe heavily in tandem. And with a kiss, we seal our fate I hope we never escape.
I’m his, and he is mine.
“Hey, Grandpa. Today is the anniversary of the day you left here. I wish you knew how much I miss you.” I sit in front of my grandfather’s headstone like I do once every month. Theo sometimes sits with me, but other times, I ask him to wait by the truck, because I need some moments alone.
“I know we never met, but the letters you wrote me, I read them over and over, and it makes me miss you.” I laugh lowly. “I mean, I tell you this all the time. But I just thought you could use the reminder.”
I play with the ring on my finger, the one Theo proposed to me with just weeks earlier. “He asked me, Grandpa. The crazy man who said he could never love anyone asked me to marry him. I hope you approve. God, I wish you were here to tell me you approve.” I pause.
Glancing behind me, I look at Theo. He leans against the truck with his ankles crossed and his arms folded, watching me, I’m sure. Even with his sunglasses, I can feel his eyes on me. That simple posture—maddening. It still gets me every time. Everything he does still gets to me.
