Page 20 of Like Grim Death: Part One
“You okay?” he asks me quietly, refusing to meet my eye.
I see a fleck of crimson on the corner of his mouth. “Look at me,Daddy.”
His eyes widen as they come to mine. We don’t usually call each other those names, but once upon a time, he threatened me with roleplaying as my foster dad. I don’t think he realizes there’s almost nothing he could do that would turn me off.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see the Unsainted brand on his thigh. A skull with a U through one eye socket, smoke through the other.
The scars from Lover’s Death, but mine is the deepest. Longest. And I’m the only one still here.
“You don’t like my scar?” I ask him, and I know he knows what I’m talking about. I feel a twinge of pain at the marks he left, and his eyes narrow.
He pushes roughly on my spine and slides his palm down my back before grabbing my ass, shoving aside the thin material of my shorts. “Shut the fuck up, Sid.” Then he’s pushing into me without warning, the tip of his cock stretching me. He shakes his head, biting his bottom lip, his eyes now on where we’re joined. “Still so fucking tight,Mama.”
I moan as he pushes further in, his hand coming to my side, then dipping lower, his fingers brushing over where he bit me.
His eyes connect with mine as he keeps pushing, filling me up, so big I swear I can feel it in my fucking stomach.
“Don’t play with me about this,” he says, his voice low.
I arch my back more, and he groans, his eyes fluttering closed a moment.
Then they’re back on mine, and he’s all the way in, his hips melded to my ass, my shorts bunched to the side. It feels so good, and I’m so fucking full, and for a moment, it’s just him and I. Right now.Here.Alone, in some kind of sick and twisted love that makes up our marriage. Nothing else matters for these minutes.
His thumb circles my wound, softly.
But the thing is, I don’t like things fucking soft.
I rock my hips, fucking him, and he smiles, gripping a handful of my ass.
“That’s my girl.”
Not quite.“I don’t think your teeth will fix it,” I pant as I fuck him, rocking back and forth on my hands and knees, but keeping my eyes on his narrowed ones. “I don’t think anything can make that scar go away.”
He squeezes the bite marks so hard I whimper as he twists my flesh. Then he’s over me, his chest to my back, so far inside of me, it’s almost painful. His cold fingers come to my throat, circling around me and jerking me up to him, so I’m looking at him upside down, our eyes connected, his fingers still pinching the bite marks.
“You think anyone else has a claim on you? When I fuck you like this?”He dips his chin, circling his hips as he moves inside of me. He knows what I want to feel. The filthy things I want him to say. “You aremywife. You should know I always find a way to cut the deepest parts of you.”Then he spits on me, on my fucking face, and I close my eyes as he starts fucking me again, harder, deeper, pinching my skin, tightening his grip on my throat. The warm, wet feel of his saliva on my cheekbones, across my mouth, feels fucking good.
He groans, but it sounds like a snarl, then he dips his head lower, a shadow behind my closed eyes, and bites into my cheek,hard.Like he wants to own me. Like he wants to fucking claim me.
But he already possesses me completely; even God couldn’t pry me from his unholy hands.
He squeezes my throat so tightly I can’t breathe, and he’s still fucking me so hard, I go down on my elbows, my head twisted, my cheek pressed to the chilly tiles as he uses me. I got him mad, and I like how he feels when he’s jealous. Hehurts.It’s my favorite pain.
I know he’s close, his mouth still against my cheek, because his thrusts are shorter, more violent, then he’s coming inside of me as he whispers my name, spots popping behind my eyes.
“Lilith, Lilith,Lilith.”His hand slides up from my hip, squeezing my hard breasts beneath my shirt, and I feel arelease,and I know I’ve got my unused milk on his fingers.“Fuck,”he swears against my ear, loosening his hold on my throat.
I gasp, gulping down air, but he’s pulling out of me, grabbing my shoulder and spinning me around. I lie flat on my back, my knees bent, thighs splayed, my shorts exposing me to him. He’s staring at the back of his hand, then he brings it to his mouth, licking it as his eyes come to mine.
He moans low in his throat, then drops his hand to the marks he left on my hip.
I glance down and see his finger trail through blood and the start of red, ugly bruises.
My belly jumps. “I love that I can make you hurt me,” I tell him, my voice low as I stare at him.
He frowns, his fingers frozen, one hand on my inner thigh, clamped down like he wants to keep me spread out for him. The smell of sex is thick between us, and there’s still blood on his mouth.
We just stare at each other, and I feel spent, fucking exhausted, even though I didn’t get off, which rarely ever happens with him, because he makes sure I’m taken care of and if he doesn’t,I make sure of it.But I know this probably isn’t over.
