Page 39 of Shattered Souls
Royce’s dress shoes clack against the polished wood with a steady, deliberate rhythm as he crosses the dance studio floor toward me. Only then do I realize the music has cut off, leaving the room cloaked in a heavy, charged silence.
His gaze remains latched onto mine as he steps up behind me, the warmth of his body radiating through the thin fabric of my dress. Being the sole focus of his searing attention ignites a slow, simmering desire. The space between us is electric, humming with unspoken words and raw, shared emotions. His breath tickles the nape of my neck, sending shivers down my spine.
“Hands on the mirror, James. Rub that ass against my crotch.”
Eyes on him, I slowly bend at the waist, pushing my hips back so my ass is firmly pressed against the bulge of his crotch as I place my hands against the cold mirror.
“So compliant for me,” he purrs as he brushes a hand up my spine, forcing me into a deeper arch. “Does my dirty girl want to be fucked?”
I rock my hips along his length, wishing his pants weren’t in the way. “Yes.” There’s no hiding the desire practically dripping from my tongue. “I need it. I needyou.”
One corner of his lips lifts in a smirk as he pushes my dress out of the way. A faint breeze dances across my bare ass cheeks as his fingers slide between my thighs. “You’ve got me, sweetheart.”
He plunges three fingers into my wet heat, and I buck against him, groaning. “Always so ready for me,” he appraises. “My needly little slut.” I mewl. “You’re going to take my cock like the filthy whore you are.” I whimper at the loss of his fingers, my pussy clenching around nothing but air as the metallic teeth of his zipper slice through the air. “You’re going to let me fill your wet little hole with my cum until it’s dripping down your thighs,” he rasps, his restraint fracturing as he presses his blunt head to my entrance. “Then you’re going to let me eat it out of you, and when I kiss you, you’re going to tasteus.”
Fuck, yes! I want all of that.
He slams into me in one mighty thrust that has me nearly smacking my head against the mirror. I stabilize myself in time for him to pull out before driving back in, somehow going deeper than he did before.
He fucks me hard. The entire time, his eyes remain on mine through the mirror. Through his stare, he tells me he loves me. He says how much he worships me while our bodies succumb to primal need, taking from one another with ruthless abandon until the telltale spindles of heat begin to sweep outward from my core.
My pussy flutters around his hard length, my legs trembling with the upcoming onslaught of my pleasure. Arms outstretchedand toes curling around the cliff’s edge, I’m ready to dive off it when Royce slows his relentless pace.
Hand fisting my hair, he wrenches my head back. My eyes snap open, connecting with his. “Look at yourself,” he barks between pants, thrusting shallowly into me.
My gaze remains fixed on him, refusing to do what he says. To ruin this moment with the remnants of my devastation still staining my cheeks and darkening my eyes.
“Do it,” he growls, forcing himself slower. “Do it if you want to come.”
With a whimpered protest, I force my gaze forward. The harsh reality of my pain stares back at me, etched into the lines of my face. The vibrancy of my hazel eyes is gone, as though my irises have been leached of color these past weeks. The stains of tear tracks mark my face, my pale skin doing little to disguise the battle I’ve been fruitlessly fighting. Each tear shed, each sleepless night, they all leave their mark, a testament to the depth of my sorrow.
“You are beautiful,” Royce murmurs, his voice low yet sure. “Don’t shy away from your pain. Your heartache, your grief… They show how much you care. They tell me how deeply you love your daughter. How can that not be beautiful to look at?”
Leaning over me, he runs a finger over my flushed cheeks—a sign of life in an otherwise desolate expanse. It forces me to look past the remnants of my devastation to the dilated pupils and shining eyes. The breaths fogging up the mirror with each shallow pant.
I see a mom desperate for the safe return of her daughter.
But more than that, I see a woman in the throes of passion.
A woman who is still fighting. Who hasn’t completely given up.
“See the strength in your eyes, the resilience in your spirit,” Royce continues. “You’ve been through so much, Ry, and yet you still stand tall.”
With each shallow thrust and tender caress, Royce forces me to look at myself anew. To see myself not as broken, but as resilient. A survivor of love’s most powerful trials.
Royce captures my gaze in the mirror before tilting his head to whisper in my ear, “Beauty lies not in perfection, but in the raw, unfiltered expression of our deepest emotions.” Nipping my earlobe, his stare turns heated as he rasps, “Now, show me the most beautiful expression of all, and come for me.”
Grasping my hips, he abandons all soft touches. Skin slaps against skin as he brings us barreling toward the release we both so desperately need, leaving me on unstable legs that won’t hold me up as I sink to the floor.
The mirror is a cold relief against my heated skin as my head falls back against it, my eyelids closed as I catch my breath.
I swear I doze off for a second, and my head rolls to the side, eyelids cracking open at the press of hands spreading my legs.
“You didn’t forget, did you?” Royce drawls with a teasing smirk and a hungry glint. “We’re not done yet, baby.”
Diving between my thighs, he laps at our combined release as it drips from my cunt like it’s the forbidden fruit he can’t get enough of.
He only lifts his head when his chin is damp, his lips shimmering in the low light with our pleasure as he brings them closer to mine. Flicking my tongue out, I taste us on his lips before they collide with my own, and he shoves his tongue into my mouth in a filthy, sloppy kiss that has nothing to do with piecing each other together and everything to do with the undeniable chemistry that will forever draw us to one another.
