Page 135 of Like A Moth To A Flame

After everything he had done, and everything he had been planning to do, I didn’t want him around her, but telling him hadn’tbeen enough. I needed him to think it came from her. I needed him to think she didn’t want him around, and it was all for her safety.

In a way, it was also for his.

If I saw him near her again, I’d disassemble him at the seams, and I would bury each individual piece in a different county, so deep that he would never be found.

I darkened the phone and returned it to the nightstand, my fists clenched as I tried, and failed, to stop the darkness that throbbed at the edges of my vision.

I threw myself up and out of bed, my anger shaking through me like a tidal wave. I had to push it away. I couldn’t let her see it. I stepped into the bathroom, pushing the door closed as the light buzzed over my head and the steam swirled around me. I could see her outline behind the clear shower curtain, and slowly, the anger began to trickle away, but it wasn’t enough.

Moving across the room, my hand shook as I tossed the shower curtain back, looking in at her. Something in my eyes must have scared her, because when she turned around to look at me, her blue eyes blew into flat, round disks and her full lips fell open in a look of surprise.

I’d kill him for that alone. I’d kill him for making me scare my moth.

I was supposed to be her safe place. I was supposed to be—

My eyes fell lower, to the silver chain that sparkled around her neck, the moth clasp resting against the hollow of her throat, where her collarbones came together in a sweeping arch like angel wings.

“You are mine,” I told her, reaching out to wrap my hand delicately around her throat. She didn’t flinch or pull away. Instead, she leaned into me, as if desperate for my touch. My cock noticed the sharp intake of her breath and jumped to life. “Do you understand?”

She nodded, a sliver of her pink tongue coming out to lick her lips and wet them as if her mouth were suddenly dry—and maybe it was. Maybe there was a part of her, deep down inside, that was still afraid of me.

I shouldn’t like that. It shouldn’t have turned me on like it did.

I pulled her into a kiss, so deep that it was bruising, and she moaned into my mouth. I swallowed it down, desperate for the taste of her.

My fingers found the line of her jaw and slid back into her mess of tawny hair, pulling at the roots and tipping her head back. My lips slid to her throat, and I could feel the thunder of her pulse beneath my lips. Without warning, my teeth found her skin, and I bit down and suck, but not too hard.

I want to mark her, but I don’t want to hurt her. I am nothing if not a man of my word. I will never hurt her.

She squirmed underneath me, a soft gasp slipping from her mouth, but she didn’t pull away. Thank the fucking gods, she didn’t pull away.

Never run from a predator.

After a moment, I released her, and I stared down at the red mark that oozed like lava under her flesh.

My mark. I’ve marked her.

She’s mine.

“Get on your knees. Show me you understand,” I said, and she did it without a second of hesitation, kneeling in the water as it drummed across her back and shoulders, splattering like rain across the tile. She was on me without a second thought, her delicate fingers ripping down the waistband of my boxers and exposing my rock-hard cock into the humid air.

She’s well trained, lucky for me, and I hadn’t had to do much training. Maybe it came naturally. Maybe she was the same kind of deviant I was, cut from the same cloth.

“Open your mouth. Now.”

She did as she was told, gulping hard, her lips parting with a soft whine of excitement. My dick pushed against her bottom lip, cutting it against her teeth. She whimpered but stayed still, doing as she was told.

I forced myself in and out of her mouth, feeling that familiar burn at the base of my spine, before a single, brutal thrust of my hips forced the head of my dick down her throat. Her shoulders jerked, a deep, hollow retch leaving her throat as she fought the baser instincts of her body. I looked down at her, and one look into her beautiful blue eyes, leaking diamond trails down her hollowed cheeks, nearly brought me to my knees.

“Good girl. You’re such a good girl. You suck it so good. Don’t stop.”

I pulled back, just enough to give her room to breathe, watching the mixture of saliva and pre-cum bubbling at the corners of her perfect lips, nostrils flaring as she fought for air. Reaching down, one hand tangled in her fawn-colored mane, keeping her pinned to me.

My Little Moth, the perfect little doe.

I pushed again, a single rough buck that forced her throat open for me, and she jerked back so violently that her skull rapped against the tile with a sickening sound.

She opened her mouth to speak, but her voice tangled when my palm whipped against her cheek, tossing her head to the side. Her hair flew out around her face like thrashing, tangled vines, and when she looked up at me again, her eyes were wide and full of shock. Tomorrow she would see the handprint, the reddened indentations of his fingers spreading into her hairline like a sunburst—an exploding star—and she would remember this lesson.

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