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“But if I touch you the wrong way, it could trigger a memory. I don’t want that. I don’t want to remind you of what they did.”
“I want you,” I murmur.
Rayne huffs out a sigh of relief before scooping me into his arms. “Thank god. I’m not going to be able to take it slow today.”
“Good.”
Rayne deposits me in the middle of the bed, making quick work of removing the tights covering my legs. His fingers are gentle as they pull the fabric away from the cuts, careful not to tug at the tape. A moment later, my shirt and sweater are over my head and I’m laying bare. The best thing about not leaving the house is not having to wear a bra, and I’ve been exercising that perk as often as possible.
For a moment my heart stops when Rayne’s eyes trail over the scars left by his enemies, worried he sees me as tainted despite the sweet words he speaks. His gaze catches mine and my worry must be evident because before I can blink, he’s leaning over me, his face so close to mine his breath brushes across my cheeks each time he exhales. “You are beautiful, Emerson. No amount of scars is going to change that for me, do you understand?”
I nod. “Yes, I understand.”
His eyes sweep over my cuts one more time as he makes quick work of removing his own clothes before he starts positioning my body. He carefully pushes my knees up until my feet are planted on the bed, shoving a pillow under my hips to keep me in position. “You are not to move. I don’t want to hurt you and this is the only way I can think that I won’t press on your cuts, okay?” He climbs onto the bed, settling himself between my legs. The mutual sigh we let out when his cock slides across my bare pussy almost makes me chuckle, but the need burning through my body makes it impossible to think of anything other than Rayne, other than his fingers trailing down my cheek and across my lips as if memorizing the path.
“I won’t move,” I whisper, not trusting my voice not to crack.
“Good girl.” Rayne smiles from above me. Slowly, too fucking slowly, he uses his free hand to guide his cock up and down my soaking slit, using my own wetness to lubricate himself. “I’ll go slower next time, sweet girl. But right now I need to be inside you.”
“I need you.” The words tumble from my lips but I don’t think either of us realizes how true they are. In a matter of weeks, I went from being fiercely independent to needing a man to keep me safe, and that should bother me, but love gives me the one thing I never knew I wanted or needed. Freedom.
Rayne groans long and loud as he presses into me. The fullness of him splitting me open borders on painful, but the look of rapture in his eyes as they hold mine makes it worth it. The feeling is intoxicating as he snaps his hips forward in short thrusts, each time giving me a little more than the last until he’s buried inside me. “Sweet girl,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the inside of my knee.
I want him closer. I want him to consume me, but he won’t risk hurting me. I reach for him, gliding my nails across his shoulders and down his chest, relishing in the feel of his rippling muscles until I reach the place where we’re joined.
His eyes snap to my hand as I guide my fingers around the base of his cock, feeling the way it throbs as he thrusts in and out of my tight heat. “Touch yourself,” he demands, and I don’t hesitate to obey him.
My fingers draw soft circles against my clit in time with Rayne’s measured thrusts. He’s watching every single move I make, all my reactions, there’s no hiding from him, and I wouldn’t even if I could. I want to bare myself to him. I want him to see every single fractured piece of me, and I want him to glue the jagged pieces back together into the perfect image of myself he sees when he looks at me.
“I’m not going to last, sweet girl. Your cunt is gripping me so fucking perfectly,” he grunts as his movements become less rhythmic. “Make yourself come, Emerson. I want to feel you come around me.”
I increase the pressure on my clit, the pleasure coursing through my body makes it hard to concentrate on my own movements, but the way Rayne is staring down at me tells me I need to hurry up before he takes matters into his own hands. “Rayne,” I whisper, the peak so close I can almost taste it, one breath away from the pleasure that will destroy me before putting me back together again.
“That’s it, sweet girl,” Rayne coaxes.
My breath catches in my throat as I tumble over the edge and ecstasy rolls over me like the ocean on a warm summer’s day. The ebbs and flows of my orgasm take the air right out of my lungs as I watch Rayne fall apart above me.
The roar he lets out doesn’t sound human, his body rutting into me with wild abandon as he chases his own high. His cock throbs inside me, drawing out my own release for so long I almost can’t take it anymore. And yet when he finally stops moving and my fingers fall away from my throbbing clit, it seems like too soon.
Rayne pulls out of me and I immediately feel his cum drip from me. The feeling once seemed so foreign, but now I love it. It reminds me I’m his as much as he is mine. “So pretty when you leak with my cum, sweet girl,” he murmurs, his eyes fixed on my thoroughly fucked pussy. “Was I too rough? Are you sore?” Worry etches into his brow.
I shake my head, a smile tugging at my lips. “No, I’m not sore. You were just rough enough.”
Rayne smirks. “The moment you’re healed I’m going to fuck you on every surface in this penthouse, in every fucking position I can think of until you’re filled with so much of my cum that no one will ever dare take you away from me again.”
If someone said those words to me a month ago, I would have laughed in their face, but coming from Rayne it’s a declaration of love, and of fear of losing me like he almost had.
“Marry me,” I whisper.
Rayne smiles, crawling back over me so our eyes are level. “I already proposed, sweet girl. Or did I fuck you so good you forgot about the ring on your finger?”
I giggle. “No, I mean I want to get married soon, like on the weekend. I don’t want to wait anymore. I want to be your wife.”
Rayne’s grin is so pure I almost can’t contemplate how this man has murdered so many people, and yet still look at me like I hung the moon. “Fuck yes.” He pushes himself back and starts riffling around in the pile of clothes he had discarded hastily.
“What are you doing?” I laugh, turning onto my side and propping myself up on an elbow to watch him. I’ll never get sick of watching him. Not today, not tomorrow, and not any day between here and the day I die.
“Getting a group chat started, we’re going to need Wynter and Snow to pull this off.”
