AllFreeNovel
Share Us
My blood heats at his visceral promise. He sounds like he’s ready to single handedly take on my worst fears if I just ask him to.
I clasp his face in my hands, staring deep into his eyes.
“Thank you,” I tell him, voice shaking with emotion. “for saving me.”
He thrusts inside me again, once. Hard.
There’s no preparation, no niceties for what comes next, it’s just a man fucking a woman who desperately needs it. It’s hard and fast and nasty.
He ruts into me, muttering praise and threats of physical violence against anyone who hurts me. I hold on to the half open shower door for purchase and arch my back.
He grabs at my breasts and bites at my shoulders and powers into my pussy, his need for me as equally unhinged and violent as my own. He fucks the pain away like I wanted and leaves me as nothing more than a bundle of pleasure.
My muscles clench painfully, a sudden reminder of the incredible soreness of my body, but there’s nothing I can do. I try to fight the incoming climax but it’s like the pain makes it more powerful, makes it more potent.
I claw at his shoulders and rip at his hair. I bite his lower lip and lick the blood into my mouth, moaning dementedly as he drives into me. Our lips smash together as he thrusts one final time, bottoming so deep inside me that I swear I feel him in my womb.
We come together, panting and moaning into each other’s mouths as we cling to the other. Warm cum shoots into my pussy, coating my walls as they spasm around Tristan’s dick.
Slowly, he puts me down. He wraps me in my towel and stands me in front of the mirror and hands me my toothbrush while he brushes my hair.
It’s standing there that I realize how many pieces of me I’ve left at his place.
No, not left.
Pieces that he’sboughtand made me leave here. The lilac towel from that first night. The toothbrush that was there when I came back the following day. The hairbrush that appeared magically a week later after I’d complained that I couldn’t leave his house looking completely disheveled. Hair ties and face wash and the cream I use for the blisters on my hands. I’d mentioned them and slowly they’d started appearing.
I’m in his space and he put me there. I don’t know how much of it is a conscious choice, but he wants me here. That realization tugs at the softest parts of me.
I look at him in the mirror and his eyes meet mine. They have the same manic shine in them from when we first stared at each other in that locker room. When I looked at him like he was a god come directly from the heavens to save me.
His hand comes around my front to cup my throat, tilting my head back in the process. His eyes gaze into mine from above with piercing intensity.
“Anything else you want to tell me?” he asks, softly. “You can, you know.” His thumb rubs circles over my pulse point. He has to be able to feel it jump every time he speaks. “I’ll slay your monsters, every single fucking last one of them.”
He kisses me, once. A long, lingering kiss, our mouths pressed deeply against each other’s and that’s it. I cuff his wrist, holding him as he holds me, and press my lips greedily back against his.
I want to confide in him, to open myself up to him, but how can I ever make him understand that my brain is broken? That I have a pretty exterior but there’s no hope of salvaging someone whose insides are as ugly as mine?
I shake my head softly and Tristan gives me a hooded look in return. He leaves, coming back with a t-shirt from his room and dropping it over my head. The fabric swallows me up, the bottom of the shirt coming to hang at my mid-thigh. It’s so comfortable and even faintly still smells like him behind the notes of detergent. I never want to take it off.
Wearing only his boxers, he pulls me into the kitchen and sits me at the table to feed me.
He texted me this morning that he’d attempted a beet cured gravlax that he was excited for me to try, but it’s not what he makes.
Instead, I watch him pull out a pot and a couple of ingredients and fifteen minutes later he’s serving me the most delicious looking simple mac and cheese I’ve ever laid eyes on.
Tristan comes over to my side of the table and motions for me to stand. I do and he takes my spot. His hands come up to clasp my hips and he pulls me back down on top of him so I’m sitting in his lap.
He lifts the fork instead of letting me take it and I open my mouth and close it around the steaming bite of food. I don’t want to have to think about anything, not even something as insignificant as lifting my fork to my mouth.
I don’t bother protesting the food he gives me. I want to eat; I need it to regain any semblance of my physical health.
He takes a bite every so often and when he brings the fork back to my lips, I look into his eyes before I take it into my mouth. His eyes heat suggestively, lust flaming his irises and I’m reassured that even after he saw what he saw, he’s still attracted to me.
That my showing him a broken part of me hasn’t driven him away forever.
When I’m done eating, he carries me into the bedroom. He throws back the sheets and lays me down on the mattress, tightening the duvet over me and sitting down on the edge of the bed next to me.
