Page 98 of Justyce
“It’s me, Dark One. It’s only us here,” I say, hoping the nickname brings her out of her head. No such luck.
She grabs at each side of her messy tassels and tugs, chanting and pulling out a clump of hair in the process. I strain my ears to hear what she’s saying and realize she’s saying no over and over again.
I can’t stand it, and I definitely can’t stand here and let her break apart. Risking the potential calamity from Kenzi, I step forward, my movements slow and calculated so as not to frighten her.
My legs war with me, wanting to dive across the room and cradle her in my arms, to take her pain away.
Finally I reach her. I squat down and my knees crack. Her wide electric blues find mine then dart around my room and then back to me.
“My dark angel,” she breathes. “You’re not real.”
That organ in my chest shatters, the blood spluttering and seizing up as I try to work the lump out of my throat.
Leaning forward, I remove her hands from the sides of her head and hold them in my own. Her eyes glass over, fresh tears pooling in the corners and it brings me to my fucking knees.
“It’s really you? You came for me,” she whispers, sounding disbelieving.
Letting go of one of her hands, I bring my thumb to her bleeding lip and swipe through the vermillion liquid gathering there. Her eyes widen when I remove it from her lips and to my mouth, licking then sucking her blood and pain away from her and into me.
Kenzi shudders, her body quaking when she removes her hands from mine and places them on each side of my face. She glides her fingers through the stubble and I can’t resist the urge and lean into her touch.
The moment is intimate, not at all what I’m used to when I gaze into her vivacious, electric orbs. Heat prickles behind my retinas and I feel the tears collecting, unable to stop the impending rainfall gathering.
“I’m so sorry, baby, so fucking sorry.”
Those bow like lips quiver slightly before she smiles at me. It doesn’t reach her eyes and I feel she’s doing it more for me than her.
“You came for me, that’s all that matters.”
Shaking my head, wetness drips into my lap, the battle warring inside of me. It’s not ok, but I can’t voice it. The emotions choke up my throat when I remember how I found her.
Swallowing the rocks lodged in my windpipe, I say with a jittery voice, “It’s not ok. I − I thought I was too late, I was almost too late.”
She shooshes me and brings her lips to mine. The kiss is tentative, cautious, and I wonder if she’s gauging whether she can let herself fall into me, to see if she can do this after what she’s been through. My hands reach behind her head and I cup her face and bring her closer.
Our lips move slowly, dancing hesitantly as she breathes all of her pain into the kiss. I take it all and more, licking at the affliction encasing her, along with her sorrow and melancholy.
Moving my hands from her face, I reach down and cup my arm under her knees, bringing her to my chest before heading to the bathroom. Our eyes and lips stay locked, exploring as I kick open the door and slowly stand her up.
Breaking away reluctantly, I reach into the waterfall shower and turn on the faucets. Kenzi pulls her eyes from mine and observes the bathroom while I ready the temperature.
When I’m happy with the heat, I shuck out of my boxers and draw her under the showerhead belting out water from the skylight ceiling. I try to keep my eyes on hers and not catalogue every contusion, laceration or scratch. I need to keep my anger in check and be there for my girl. The last thing I want is to scare her.
Stretching my free arm around her, I grab some soap and start to wash her body. I need to scrub away the sordid details she’s no doubt reliving and give my mind something to focus on.
We stand in the shower for god knows how long in a comfortable silence. I wash her from head to toe, shampooing and conditioning her long locks and combing out the knots with my hand. She moans into my massaging palms and my cock hardens.
I’m an asshole, a pig for even allowing my thoughts to wander and think about sinking deep into her heavenly holes, but I can’t help it.
The soap washes down the drain and she turns in my arms, reaching for the bottle of body wash on the shelf.
Breaking the silence, I grab her hands in mine and say, “It’s ok, Kenz, you don’t need to do that.”
“Let me… please.”
Searching her eyes, I find what I need. I nod once and she smiles at me, the split in her lip pulling to the point a little blood seeps out again. Her hands roam my body hesitantly, tracing the ink on my body. She stops at the one of my chest, her fingers feathering over the decaying black roses in the skulls eyes and then trailing down the rivulets of blood to the brass knuckles. She peeks up at me as if gaging my response before she finishes ghosting along the Tartarus wording and sliding her hands down my torso.
The sight of her lathering up is tempering my resolve and goosebumps pepper my flesh. Lust surges throughout, puncturing and testing my restraint. Especially when she reaches my cock and starts wrapping her little fists around the length.
