Page 52 of Painted Scars
I’m dripping at his command.
A foil packet crinkles and tears.
“Come here, baby.” He presses my hand to his cock. “Feel me. You want this? Have you been a good girl?”
I nod and roll the rubber over his length, and he hisses.
“Ready to take all of me, Glitter Bomb?” I adore how he checks in with me at every step and makes me feel at ease.
“Yes,” I pant. “Please, Grumpy Daddy.”
He shuffles behind me, one arm anchoring me again, the other slipping between my legs. Fire trails down my front as he slides his palm from beneath my breasts to my pussy. “Let me replace your ghosts with better memories.”
He’s so close yet remains a mystery. I don’t need to see his face to feel safe, but I wish he wanted to share it when my trust outweighs his.
“One last thing.” He pulls my arms behind my back to give me the final element of my fantasy. “Tell me the second it gets too much.”
Loops circle my wrists as he secures the buckle of my dress belt, leaving it slack enough for me to slide free. My pulse skitters, only this time it’s from anticipation. Three years ago, I was powerless, and tonight, I choose restraints.
“How’s that?” His hand caresses my upper arm.
Nothing about this should turn me on, yet here I am, tied up, turned on, and spinning. My fangirl is cheering that I haven’t run from the helmeted ghost.
“Good.” I smile and bite my lip.
His head probes my entrance, and I lean back into him, pulling him in the first inch. I hiss at the stretch and burn, and tug at my bindings. He doesn’t rush, just sinks in inch by inch.
His teeth graze my shoulder and he slides deeper. “That’s my good girl. Take all of me like you’re made for it.”
We move together, our rhythm syncing. Each thrust is a claim. Each breath a vow. And for the first time in years, I feel safe. Desired. Revered. Respected.
He cups my chin, guiding me into another sweet kiss. His plunges turn frantic, and he whispers my nickname like a prayer. When he breaks apart inside me, I follow him into the dark and I don’t feel afraid at all.
He holds me afterwards, arms tight around me, and I melt into him, listless, warm, and undone. I turn to liquid at his aftercare, undoing my wrists and rubbing slow circles over the chafed welts the belt left from me tugging at every thrust.
“Did I push too far?” His other thumb traces the inside of my elbow, stealing more breath than he did with his cock.
“No,” I reply earnestly. “It was perfect.”
“You did good, Glitter Bomb.” His body shifts against mine, as he brushes a kiss over each wrist.
Dammit, my heart turns traitorous again.
I brush my cheek against his pumping chest. “Thank you. I mean it. For the tenderness. For letting me feel like more than the sum of what’s broken.”
He pinches my chin, lifting my face blindly toward his. “You’re not broken, Glitter Bomb. You’re kintsugi art, every crack filled with gold, making you shine harder.” His touch makes me feel precious, not fragile, like he sees the beauty in breaking. “You looked fear in the eye and told it to fuck off. That’s not just brave, that’s fearless.”
Something cracks wide open in me. Shit. I think I might be in love. The scary kind that blooms fast and reckless like a housefire.
I fold my arms over his and squeeze. “Hold me for a bit longer.” I’m not ready to lose the weight of his arms tethering me to something good.
“Come here.” He draws me down to the mattress with him, molding his chest to my back and kissing the curve of my shoulder.
I get lost in the cadence of his breathing. My fingers flex with urgency to remove my blindfold, but I hesitate. He’s been so careful about hiding his identity, that one wrong move and I’ll chase him away. I won’t risk it when I’m still floating in a warm haze of sex hormones and comfort.
“Can we do this again?” I’m lonelier than I care to admit. There’s only so many books a girl can read before she longs for a real-life villain to jump into bed with.
“Are you admitting I’m incredible in bed?” he teases, smugness veiled in grump.
