Page 53 of The Devil's Wrath

He settled between my legs, hooking my thighs over his shoulders. I felt his warm breath against my core and shivered with anticipation. But instead of giving me what I desperately wanted, he placed soft, open-mouthed kisses along my inner thighs, deliberately avoiding the place where I needed him most. I whimpered, trying to cant my hips toward his face, seeking relief, but his grip on my thighs tightened, holding me in place.

“Patience, my love,” he murmured against my skin. “I’ll give you what you need. Trust me.”

And I did trust him, wholly and completely. I surrendered myself to his touch, to the exquisite torture of his teasing caresses. He took his time, worshipping every inch of my body with his lips and tongue until I was trembling and breathless beneath him, my skin flushed and slick with sweat.

Only when I was thoroughly wound up and desperate did he suddenly flip me over onto my stomach, one hand pressed between my shoulder blades, pinning me down against the mattress. His other hand gripped my hip, lifting me until I was on my knees, my backside raised vulnerably to him. I felt exposed, displayed for his viewing pleasure, and self-conscious about the burn scar on my back.

But any shred of self-consciousness evaporated as I felt his fingers glide reverently over the raised, reddened skin of my scar.

“Every part of you is beautiful,” he breathed. “Even this.” His lips replaced his fingers, pressing a trail of featherlight kisses along the marred flesh. Each brush of his mouth burned hotter than the flames that had ravaged my skin. He didn’t ask what had happened—I knew the questions would come, but right now, he was going to make meforget everything except the feeling of his hands on my body and his lips worshipping my skin.

“You’re dripping for me,” he observed, his fingers skating teasingly along my slit. I whimpered and tried to push back against his hand, seeking more pressure, but he tsked and delivered a sharp slap to my rear. “Greedy girl. I’ll give you what you need, but we’re doing this my way.”

I cried out, more from surprise than pain, as a warm sting radiated across my skin.

“You like that, don’t you?” he growled, soothing the smarting flesh with his palm. “You like when I mark this pretty skin as mine.”

His hand came down again, harder this time, and I gasped out a strangled, “Yes!” as the sting blossomed into a throbbing heat. He rained a series of sharp smacks across my backside until the skin burned and tingled deliciously. Tears pricked the corners of my eyes from the exquisite mix of pleasure and pain.

“That’s it. Let go for me,” Theo urged. “Take what I give you.” His palm soothed over the hot, sensitized flesh before he gripped my hips and pulled me back firmly against his clothed erection. I could feel how hard he was through the fabric of his pants, and I ground back against him wantonly, desperate for more contact.

“Please, Theo,” I begged shamelessly, too far gone to care how needy I sounded. “I need you inside me.”

“Since you asked so nicely . . .” In one swift motion, he unbuckled his belt and shoved his pants down just enough to free his straining cock. The blunt head probed at my entrance, slick with my arousal, before he thrust forward and hilted himself inside me with one powerful stroke.

A guttural cry tore from my throat at the sudden fullness, my sore, swollen inner walls stretching to accommodate him. His thrusts were deep and hard, each one hitting that sensitive spot inside me that made stars explode behind my eyelids. I fisted the sheets, trying to anchor myself against the overwhelming sensations bombarding me from all sides. One hand gripped my hip hard, leaving bruises on top of the bruises I already had, while the other fisted my damp hair, pulling my head back and arching my spine. The change in angleallowed him to plunge even deeper, hitting a spot that no man ever had before.

“Is this what you wanted?” he growled, punctuating each word with a hard, deep thrust. “To be split open on my cock, used for my pleasure, and claimed so thoroughly that you’ll never forget who you belong to?”

“Yes!” I cried, meeting his thrusts as best I could. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop!”

He pounded into me harder, pushing me face-first into the mattress as he leaned over me, his chest pressed against my back. His heart hammered against my scar, and his teeth grazed the shell of my ear as he spoke. “Come for me, baby,” he commanded. “Let me feel this greedy little cunt squeeze me dry.”

My core clenched around him almost painfully as I cried out his name like a prayer and shattered beneath him, my vision going white. He continued to pound into me, chasing his own release, prolonging my pleasure until it bordered on torment.

“Fuck, you feel like heaven, little bird,” he groaned, his rhythm growing erratic.

With a guttural shout, he buried himself to the hilt and spilled deep inside me, his cock jerking and pulsing as he filled me.

We collapsed onto the bed in a sweaty tangle of limbs, both of us panting for breath. Theo rolled off me and gathered me into his arms, pressing a tender kiss to my temple. I nuzzled into his chest, savoring the feeling of his warm skin against mine and the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath my cheek.

His fingers traced idle patterns along my spine, occasionally dipping lower to skim over the curve of my rear. Each gentle touch sent little aftershocks of pleasure zinging through my nerve endings, keeping me floating in that hazy space between sated bliss and reignited desire. I traced the raised scars that adorned his body, hidden in the tattoos that covered his skin. He remained still under my touch, his breath steady and controlled. It was as if he had learned to compartmentalize the trauma, to tuck it away in the recesses of his mind. But I knew it was lurking beneath the surface, waiting to be unleashed.

“What happened here?” I whispered, my touch lingering on a particularly jagged mark slicing through his stomach.

He closed his eyes, jaw clenching. “A mistake. One I swore never to make again.”

I sensed the pain radiating off him. I could almost taste the bitterness and regret. Slowly, I leaned in and pressed my lips to the scar, to all the hurt it represented, and he shuddered.

“We all have our scars,” I breathed against his skin. “Seen and unseen. They make us who we are.”

His calloused hand tangled in my hair, pulling me closer. “And who are we?” The question rumbled through his chest, demanding an answer I wasn’t sure I had.

I met his penetrating gaze, my heart a caged bird within my ribs. “Two lost souls, brought together . . . Survivors.”

Something flickered in the depths of his green eyes, there and gone again like a ripple across still water. He studied me for a long moment as if trying to unravel the mystery of my very existence.

“Survivors,” he repeated softly, testing the word as if tasting it on his tongue and determining its weight. His grip tightened as he drew my mouth to his, stealing the breath from my lungs.

---