Page 118 of Broken by my Bully
Should fetch the kit again. Apply more ointment. Help Haven heal.
I leave the hoodie pulled down her shoulder, picking up her wrist, turning her hand over in mine, examining it. Some dirt under her nails, embedded deep where only a nail brush could have reached. Another small tear in her skin, near one knuckle.
The smell of my body wash on her skin is inebriating. I inhale it deep into my lungs as I press my lips to the small cut, as I lick her finger.
My cock was already hardening in the bathroom as I examined her underwear. It bobs as a fresh wave of blood is pumped into it.
I set her hand down, my gaze already gliding down her body, hungry for more. A predator deciding where to tear open its fresh, still-warm kill.
Her bare feet twitch as I stare at them, but she’s unconscious, trapped in sleep.
Resting. Healing.
Her ankle bone is a sharp point in my palm as I lift her leg, my knees sliding onto the mattress beside her so I can get closer.
To examine her.
To heal her.
She washed her feet, but there are a multitude of abrasions and bruises on her skin. How far did she walk to get here? I didn’t see her car, but I wasn’t driving, so it’s possible I simply missed it.
I close my eyes as I inhale her scent, the tip of my nose trailing along the elegant arch of her foot. I kiss one of her cuts. Trail my tongue along a scratch.
There’s a bruise on her shin. I lavish it with my tongue, inhaling deeply. My fingers dimple the flesh of her calf, then her thigh.
Poor baby,” I murmur, spreading her legs wider. “Let me see what he did to you.”
Four scratch marks on her inner thigh. Fresh. Violent.
I crouch over her like an incubus, angry sounds rumbling out of my throat as I run my thumb over that blatant evidence of violence. I match my fingers to the wounds, then drag my nails down the same path, watching her unconscious bodyflinch.
Blood beads along the reopened cuts. “Does it hurt?”
I lick the blood away, savoring the copper taste mixed with her skin. My cock grinds against her shin as I work my way higher, drawn by her scent like a fucking animal.
Not my body wash.
Not fresh blood from the wounds I’ve licked open.
Her.
I’m inches from her pussy. The heat of her closed legs radiates against my body, against my face, and with it, her scent.
I don’t know at what point I could have stopped myself.
Before I picked up her underwear?
Before I walked back in here naked, determined to see how much damage she’d suffered?
Before I began examining her like a Jane Doe on an autopsy table?
Definitely before I split open her thighs, push up her hoodie, and press my lips against one hip bone, then the other.
She’s bewitched me like a siren. I’m helplessly drawn to the center of her body, where warmth spills out and coats my skin when I drag my fingertips through her slit.
I lick my fingers like that morsel will be enough to satiate me, but it only makes my hunger fiercer, my cock harder.
Pre-cum soaks into my sheets as I lay down between her legs, and I buck against the silky fabric with a quiet groan as I nudge my nose against her pussy.
