Page 114 of Atone

36

MY PERSON

MILA

Alex hitchesmy leg up over his shoulder. His tongue meets my core, and I forget why I should hate him.

I didn’t fall for this man’s comforting words. I clung to the broken thoughts he scribbled in a journal when he lost his mind. I latched onto the darkness that stirred in his eyes. Shadows that only exist when a person has done something unfathomable.

I didn’t fall for sweet edges or empty promises. I fell for a single truth: Alex is broken, and there is no putting him back together.

Sick or twisted as it may be, I don’t want to.

Alex throws my other leg over his shoulder, pinning my back to the wall while he kisses my center. He pushes every limit. It’s like he can’t breathe without me.

And I can’t exist without him.

My hands tangle in his wavy hair, and I lose my breath. My heart seizes as he draws an infinity with his tongue. He writes a promise with his lips, and I close my eyes as I drift to the darkest parts of space.

Alex tugs my ass, angling my hips and forcing me to ride his mouth. A thousand butterflies flutter, and I could chase them, never coming close to catching this feeling he gives me. It’s all-consuming.

He’s in every nerve from my fingertips to my toes. My entire body twists and curls, and I submit to his touch.

Alex fucks me with his tongue, and then he starts drawing those slow, torturous sweeps.

Forever.

Always.

Endlessly.

My nails dig into his scalp, and as our gazes connect, I become pieces. An open wound that bleeds into him. The world around me shatters, taking me with it. And he holds me to that heat as I ride his lips. Watching me as he kisses me through my climax.

I’m still out of breath as the edges of my vision start to clear. But the need can’t be tamed. All he’s done is awaken this desire that consumes and drowns and takes.

Like he reads my thoughts, he slips my legs from his shoulders and stands swiftly, picking me up. I twine my legs around his hips, and his mouth meets mine as he carries me to my bedroom.

The kiss is a mixture of us. Me on his tongue. Him in my heart.

I’m a master of knives, and still, I could never cut him out. This sickness he spreads in me is incurable.

The room tilts on its axis as he plants me on the bed. His body over mine. My knees knocked open with how he stands between them at the edge.

“What are you thinking?” I ask when his gaze sweeps over me.

“That I need you.” Alex grabs the back of his shirt, stripping it off in one sweep.

Scars on display, and not just the ones I can see with my eyes, but the ones that exist deeper. The pain he’s inflicted and endured.

I pull my dress up to my waist, then I sit, stripping it off completely.

I’m reaching for the knife strapped to my thigh when Alex plants his hand on mine, stopping me from removing it.

“Leave it.” He unbuttons his pants. “I want to think about what you did with that thing while you ride my cock.”

“You’re sick.”

A dark smirk stretches his cheeks. “You have no idea.”

---