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CHAPTER32
JAKUB
Her mouth brushes against mine in a featherlight kiss. It’s tentative, searching, delicate in a way that makes my cock thicken and swell.
You’re mine.
Nothing. Zero. Naught.
Christy Dálaigh. Grim’s sister. Nessa’s daughter. Arden’s cousin. The girl with the ghost eyes. The woman our father feared above all else.
She has claimed us.
It was never about Christy being ours. It was always about us belonging to her.
Never has anything felt so right, so true, sohonest.
When we’d kidnapped her, all I saw was a pretty girl who I could use to seek revenge. I dismissed her. I didn’t care who she was. I didn’t care about who loved her. I didn’t care that she was a victim of a war that had nothing to do with her. I didn’t care.
She was no more than a plaything. Someone to use and abuse as we saw fit.
She wasNothingto me.
Until slowly she began to creep under my skin. Her courage, her fight, her determination to make us see began to chip away at the facade I’d lived behind for years. That boy who I thought had died on the floor of the cabin began to awaken. He knew way before I did that she was far from nothing. That she was everything.Iseverything.
Day by day she peeled back the layers, showing us the woman beneath the masks she wore, whilst all we did was continue to hide behind ours. Her courage. Her strength. Her fight. Her determination to make ussee,slowly but surely had an impact.
She held up a mirror just like she promised and I didn’t like what I fucking saw.
It hurt to look upon the man moulded in my father’s image. I both wanted to shed him like a skin that no longer fit, and grasp hold of him and never fucking let go. The two sides of me waged a war until the beaten down boy clawed his way back and shoved the man he became into a padlocked corner of his mind. It hurt. It still hurts to feel so fucking exposed, so vulnerable, and yet, as her lips move against mine, the pain lessens.
Her fingers slide across my cheek replacing memories of being slapped about by my father with a tenderness I’ve never experienced before. My lips part as she strokes my tongue with hers, searching, gentle. I groan into her mouth, my cock instantly hardening from her softness.
Kissing One had always been a battle of wills. It was teeth clashing, biting, hands grasping, scratching. Either she would own me, or I would own her. There was no give or take. Kissing One was about possession, ownership, obsession. It was passionate for all the wrong reasons.
But this kiss…? Fuck, this kiss is passionate in all the right ways. It’s like the sun rising on a summer’s morning. It’s warm, languid, life-affirming. It imbues compassion, heralds connection, it encourages kindness.
As she kisses me, her fingertips find the collar of my shirt and she pulls back the material, her bare breasts brushing against my ruined chest as she slowly peels it from my skin.
“If I hurt you, tell me, okay?” she says, brushing a tender kiss against my throat before slowly dropping to her knees. I watch in fascination, in awe, as she unbuckles my belt and unzips my trousers, pulling them and my underwear down my hips.
My cock springs free, precum beading on the tip. Christy looks up at me, a sweet smile on her lips as she kisses the head of my cock.
My brothers groan in appreciation, and whilst I know this is a turn-on for them, right now this isn’t about them. This is about forging a connection and healing wounds betweenus. Me and the girl I once called Nothing, who’s proven herself to be everything we needed.
When Christy pulls away, I don’t grasp the back of her head and press my dick against her lips like I had in his room of curiosities. I give her the freedom to do what she wants, and right now that’s removing my wet clothes.
Pulling off my shoes, she eases down my trousers and boxer shorts the rest of the way and I have an undisturbed view of her scarred back. My cock fucking aches at the sight, turned on by what others perceive to be ugly. But all I see is strength, courage, determination.
She’s endured pain and survived it, and that’s fucking beautiful.
Groaning, my hand grips my dick, squeezing the base as I try to temper the tingling in my balls. Discarding my clothes, Christy looks up at me from her kneeled position then presses her birthmarked cheek against the hard length of my cock. I watch how her birthmark blushes a deep red, and I swear I almost come.
“Who are you?” I whisper, my fingers trailing over her hair as she runs her lips up from the base of my cock to the tip, her tongue peeking out to lick my slit. Her pink lips glisten as she closes her mouth around the head of my cock and sucks me into her mouth. “Fuck!” I exclaim, my eyes rolling into the back of my head.
“She’s our fucking saviour,” Leon mutters in response, moving in my peripheral vision as he takes a seat by the open fire. Konrad joins him, sitting in the chair on the other side of the hearth.
“She’s everything,” he adds. “She's the lifeblood to our motherfucking souls.”
