Page 26 of UnTrained: Volume Two
A smile touches Aiden's lips, approval warming his eyes. "Good girl." His thumb traces my collarbone, a touch that sends shivers across my skin. "I want to mark you now. Not permanently, but something you'll feel tomorrow. A reminder of who you belong to."
My heart skips a beat at his words. A mark. Something visible, something to remind me that I've given myself to him. The idea sends a jolt of electricity through me that I wouldn't have expected.
"Yes," I whisper, my voice husky with desire. "Please, Sir."
Aiden's eyes darken at my eager response. His hand slides from my throat, down over my breast, fingers circling my nipple until it hardens beneath his touch. "So responsive," he murmurs, more to himself than to me.
He sits up, his weight shifting on the bed. "Turn onto your side, facing away from me."
I roll over, my back to him, the sheets cool against my front. I'm hyperaware of every sensation—the slight ache in my bottom from the punishment, the brush of air across my skin as Aiden moves behind me, the quickening of my pulse as I wait for what comes next.
His hand strokes down my side, over the curve of my hip. "Your skin is perfect," he says, his voice low and appreciative. "Like porcelain."
His fingertips trail across my skin, raising goosebumps in their wake. The air between us feels charged, electric with possibility. I hold my breath as his mouth replaces his fingers, lips warm against my shoulder blade.
"I'm going to mark you here," he murmurs against my skin. "Where only I will see it most of the time."
The implication that there might be times when others could see his mark sends a strange thrill through me. I nod, not trusting my voice.
"Say it," he commands. "Tell me what you want."
"I want you to mark me, Sir," I whisper, the words coming easier than I expected. "I want to wear your mark on my skin."
His teeth graze my shoulder, testing, teasing. "Why?"
The question catches me off guard. Why do I want this? It takes me a moment to find the words.
"Because... because it makes this real," I say finally. "Because I want to feel like I belong to someone who values me. Who sees me."
Aiden makes a sound of approval, his breath hot against my skin. Then his mouth opens against my shoulder, teeth sinking into my flesh with exquisite control.
Pain and pleasure blend together as he sucks hard, marking me as his. I gasp, my body arching instinctively, pressing back against him.
When he finally releases my flesh, his tongue soothes the tender spot. I can feel the blood rushing to the surface, the skin throbbing where his mouth has claimed me.
"Mine," he says simply, his finger tracing the mark he's left behind.
The word sends a shiver through me. Mine. So simple, yet so profound. I've been many things in the past months—victim, survivor, patient, case number. But now, in this moment, I am simply his. The thought brings unexpected peace.
Aiden's arm slides around my waist, drawing me back against his chest. I can feel the solid warmth of him, the steady beat of his heart against my shoulder blade where his mark now rests. His hand splays across my stomach, holding me against him.
"How do you feel?" he asks, his voice rumbling against my back.
"Yours, Sir," I whisper. "I’m good. And I’m yours."
