Page 91 of Chicago Sin
Or does he want to be here? With me?
The foolish part of me likes to believe I’m doing something for him. A shock absorber in his messy, criminal life.
I know that’s totally fucked up, but there it is. I want to be important to him. I want to know he needs me like I’m starting to need him.
His arms tighten around me. His grip is possessive, as if he's still afraid I’ll run.
It feels like a lifetime since he literally crashed into my shop.
So much fear. Unknown. Pleasure. Lust. Even tenderness.
Yes, tenderness from the killer in my bed.
Now, as I lie here in his arms, I can't help but feel a strange sense of comfort. It's as if I'm finally safe from the world outside. The world that would judge me for being here. The world that doesn't understand the bond that has formed between us.
Do I even understand the bond?
I turn to look at him, and he stirs in his sleep. His eyes open, and he smiles when he sees me looking at him. I feel a warmth spread through my body. It's crazy, I know. But I can't help how I feel. I love him. I know I shouldn't, but I do.
“Can't sleep?” he murmurs, pulling me closer.
I shake my head, unable to find the words to express what I feel. I just stare at him, and he stares back, his eyes searching my face for something. He leans in and brushes his lips against mine, sending shivers down my spine. I respond eagerly, pressing my body against his.
In that moment, I forget everything that surrounds us. The hit out on Armando. The shooting in the alley. The threat of Armando breaking parole and ending back in prison.
I break the kiss, pulling back just enough so my fingers can trace light circles on his chest. “Just thinking,” I whisper back, unwilling to break the spell of the moment.
He nods, his eyes searching mine. “About what?”
“About how close I feel to you. And what’s going to happen.”
He's silent for a moment, his expression inscrutable. “I don't have the answers, Flowers. I don't know.”
“I know,” I say quickly. “Of course you don’t. Nevermind.”
“I do know one thing...” His hand moves towards my thigh.
My breath catches in my throat when I feel his fingers brush against my leg. My skin is covered with goose bumps, my body responding to his touch.
I open my legs wider in an attempt to get his fingers closer to my pussy.
He lowers his hand to the edge of my panties. “You’re a gift.”
Every cell in my body celebrates his admission. Confirmation that I do mean something. That I am a contribution to his life. That he does need me.
“You’re a fucking gift, and I want you more than I've ever wanted you before.” His fingers slide under the fabric and find my swollen clit. I gasp, his touch sending a jolt through my body.
My whole body quivers in anticipation as he slides a finger inside of me. He pushes it deep inside, pumping it in and out in a rhythmic motion. My body knows what to do. It knows how to respond to his touch. It's been like this since the moment I met him.
“Thank you for accepting me.” He strokes my inner walls. “I love the way you surrender to me. It's intoxicating. I can never get enough of you.” He inhales the scent of my hair. “Never.”
I've come to realize that Armando and I may struggle for words as we are just learning how to communicate. But one thing is for certain.
Our bodies know how to speak.
More so than words.
I let out a soft moan as his finger slides in and out of my pussy, “More,” I whisper, my eyes never leaving his.
