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His kisses forever ruin me because they corrupt me and chain me to him with invisible ropes, always reminding me that I belong to him.
However insane, wrong, or impossible it might be.
I open myself wide for him when his thumb presses on my chin, and he delves his tongue deeper, pleasure zapping through me as he locks us in a passionate kiss that creates a false reality. Where it’s just the two of us, serving a protective cocoon around us, hiding us from the outside world.
He swallows my whimper in his throat when his hands grab my ass, gluing us together, and my core spasms at the contact while I grow hot at his act of possession, requiring these displays on a daily basis, and maybe then I can believe him.
Believe that some fairy tales are possible even for the likes of me.
My fate must have been pre-decided for me because this man is my weakness, and no matter how much my mind screams at me to think and breathe, I ignore it.
The minute our destinies collided, he became…mine.
And is it such a bad thing to claim him as mine if he already considers me his?
My lungs beg for oxygen, so tearing my mouth away, I gulp for air and hit my head on the door as we stare at one another.
He steps back and slowly unbuttons his shirt, opening up to my view his magnificent carved six-pack covered in endless scars. Back in the club, I didn’t have the opportunity to properly see him, but the harsh light streaming from above hides nothing from me this time around.
The faded white marks from what must have been a belt buckle once. Deep and red slashes that, with time, transformed into scars that someone ignored because they didn’t heal properly.
Scars on his stomach and sides trail toward his back, and some even on his collarbone. They all speak of unbearable pain, yet none look as vicious as the one on his cheek.
My eyes fill with tears because Octavius’s body was an outlet for someone’s cruelty and hatred. How much strength must one have in order to survive it?
No.
How much strength must one have to survive it and then face scrutiny from society for having these scars, indirectly hinting that what you went through tarnished you in their eyes when it should have been the opposite?
Perfection is valued above anything else when only imperfection truly shows character and soul because it speaks about resolve, resilience, and a will to live and move on.
“They are hideous, kitten. I tried to spare you the sight.” He removes the shirt and drops it on the floor. “This time around, though, I want to feel your skin against mine. I guess I’ll have to grovel for that as well.” He splays both of his palms on either side of my head, once again caging me in, and it dawns on me that he misunderstood my tears. “Forgive me.”
Taking a deep breath, I put my hand on his bare skin and kiss the angry scar on his collarbone, making him freeze. “They’re not hideous. I wish I could take all the memories they cause away.” Because at the end of the day, what haunts you the most is not the imperfections. It’s how you got them and the painful reminders that sometimes transform into nightmares. Skimming my lips, I leave several more kisses on his scarred chest and tilt my head back, meeting his confused and heated gaze. “You’re the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.” His hands fist on the door as thousands of emotions flash on his face. I feel the need to add, fascinated by his lack of control because for the first time, I can truly see into what hides beneath his exterior, “I’ve been getting off to thoughts of you for months.”
He traps my moan when he slams his mouth on mine again. The kiss is almost bruising and frustrated this time, though, holding so many meanings. I fail to catch them because his tongue roaming inside my mouth spreads fire, awakening every hair on my body while need consumes me.
He grabs the hem of my dress, clenching it in his hands and moving it up, up, up until his hands reach my bare ass. I gasp when he hikes me up, my legs wrapping around him, and we groan into the kiss when his hard-on rubs against my core.
Lacing my fingers in his hair tighter, I continue to kiss him as he spins around and starts walking somewhere, each step thrusting his cock deeper into me. My thighs flex around him, welcoming the friction on my clit. I wish to destroy all our clothes as they feel like a foreign object on my body, preventing me from experiencing his hard flesh over my bare core.
Throwing my head back, I gulp for breath as he moves his lips toward my throat, and my nipples hurt, begging for attention and his mouth. “Octavius.”
“I know, kitten,” he murmurs over my skin, earning a gasp when his fingers dig deeper into my ass right before he places me on a desk, making room for himself between my legs, and the air hitches in my lungs at the sight of him.
He blocks the light, darkening the space, which only adds to the forbidden and wicked atmosphere around us that invites me to indulge in my sins and cravings because they bring freedom and pleasure in ways nothing else can or ever will.
Octavius’s brown eyes flare with heat and lust while a sinister smile curves his lips. A shiver runs down my spine in anticipation because it promises me the sweetest torture. “Look at you. All flushed and in need of your man’s cock.” I swallow at the pure satisfaction coating his voice while he hikes the dress more, exposing my legs for his viewing pleasure. Cold air lands on my skin, causing more goose bumps to pop out despite the fire traveling through my veins and creating this sense of rush in me that cannot be contained.
Only sated.
“Beautiful creature and all mine.” My squeal echoes in the room when he sends me flying on my back, knocking several things from the desk on the floor. Neither of us pays attention to it as he leans forward, and we both breathe heavily. “How should I grovel, kitten?” he asks again. This time, his hushed voice is so hypnotizing and tempting it only adds to the fire and causes an inferno in my stomach. “With my fingers?” I almost sit up when he cups me, pressing the heel of his palm on my clit, and sensations rush through me. “Stretching this dripping pussy for me so I can fuck you hard over and over again until neither of us can walk?” A whimper escapes me, and his grin widens. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, kitten? Having your man so lost in you, he wouldn’t give a fuck about anything else but you.”
The picture he paints in my head doesn’t help me. Instead, it makes me hotter, zipping electric volts prickling my skin, and my hands clench the dress, hating it right now. “Octavius, please.” His name is the only thing keeping me in the present moment and not allowing me to think about the consequences that will inevitably follow.
“Or should I grovel with my mouth first, kitten?” His palm drifts upward, joining my hand, and my hips rise at the contact, only to gasp when his mouth lands on my nipple, sucking on it through the dress and soaking the material around it.
Each lick of his tongue drives me insane and shoots lust straight to my core. My legs spasm around him as my fingers thread through his locks again, my whole body begging him to take me and end my misery.
