Page 52 of Watch Me Burn
“You won’t lose me. I’ve given you every part of me. Why isn’t it enough?”
This talking while he moves inside me is so incredibly erotic. The intimacy of it strips me bare in ways his hands never could. He continues his slow, purposeful rhythm, his body suspended above mine while his arms create a cage of heat and muscle around me.
All I want is for him to collapse onto me, skin to skin.
Why won’t he kiss me? Why is my mouth good enough for his cock but not his lips?
“Please.” My voice cracks with need for something I can’t name.
His thumb brushes my lip again. “Not yet. Not like this.”
The words confuse me, but I can’t focus on them because he shifts his angle, finding the spot that makes my spine arch. Pressure builds again, slower this time but somehow deeper.
“Come with me. Give me one more, little doe.”
The command pulls me toward the edge, and when his hand slips between us to circle my clit, I shatter. This orgasm rolls through me in long, gentle pulses while he finally lets go, his body trembling above me as he spills inside me.
We stay joined for several heartbeats—his forehead dropped to my shoulder while his frame hovers just out of contact as our breathing settles. Then he pulls out, leaving cold air where his warmth had been.
He climbs off the bed and turns me to my side, snapping the zip tie with his fingers. My wrists fall free, and he rubs the red marks left behind, working away the ache.
“Why weren’t you more brutal with me tonight? After what I did?”
He ignores my question, doesn’t even acknowledge I spoke. Instead, he just adjusts his clothing, getting ready to vanish like he always does. But tonight something’s different. His hands move with less certainty than usual.
“Will you ever tell me who you are?”
He stills, his back to me. “Do you really want to know?”
“Yes.” My voice doesn’t waver. “I want to know who you…” My throat constricts around the words. “I want more than this. More than these stolen moments in the dark.”
He turns halfway toward me, the mask catching what little light filters through the room.
“I won’t share you with another man. You’re fucking mine.”
“Then trust me with who you are.”
“I’m a killer, Luna. That won’t change. If you really want to know who I am, you’ll have to live with the consequences. Live with knowing that the man you let inside you every night often kills with those hands before they touch you.”
I plant my palms on the mattress and push myself up. My hair falls across my face, and I push it back with trembling fingers.
“You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t struggle with that? I’m waiting for the night you show up here covered in blood.” My voice cracks on the last word, but I force myself to keep going. “And do you want to know the worst part? I hate that I don’t care enough to stop this. I’ll always want your hands on me. I don’t ever want to go back to living without them.”
The mask turns his face into an impenetrable wall, and it makes me want to scream because I can sense the storm of emotions he’s hiding just out of my sight.
“Listen to me.” His voice drops to something deadly quiet. “This is the last time I’m going to say this, Luna. If another man ever puts his hands on you, his mouth on you, or his cock inside you, I’ll come here dripping in his blood and fuck you until it covers every inch of your skin.”
And then he’s gone, slipping into the night like the phantom he is, leaving only silence and the lingering echo of his threat.
I curl onto my side and pull the blanket over my bare skin. My body aches in all the right places, marked by his touch. His words won’t stop resonating through the hollow space he left behind.
Nothing about tonight makes sense. I should be covered in bruises, barely able to move. When Damien kissed me, jealousy turned my wolf into something savage. Tonight, after I let Damien taste me, my wolf drove into me like he wanted to leave permanent marks. And he did. I feel every brutal second of it radiating through my body. But halfway through, something shifted in him. The savagerybled away, replaced by movements that felt like worship. Like he was cherishing me.
I squeeze my eyes shut. The room falls into stillness, waiting for footsteps that won’t come back until tomorrow night. The scent of him lingers in the air. I pull the blanket tighter around me, suddenly aware of how alone I am. How alone I always am after he leaves.
Why can’t he trust me with the truth hiding behind that mask?
My breath stutters because now I know with crystal clarity what this knot in my chest really is. This isn’t just a physical need anymore. This stopped being about sex a long time ago. Somewhere between the fear and the pleasure, between his violence and his surprising gentleness, I fell in love with him.
