Page 17 of Stolen Fate

It didn’t matter, though, because Jace was kissing his way down my body, and I didn’t have the will to stop him.

He ran his tongue over the crease of my breasts, sucking slightly on the supple flesh before moving his hand around me and unbuckling the black lace bra I had on. His eyes stayed on me as he removed the flimsy fabric and threw it somewhere on the floor, cupping a breast and playing with my nipple with the other hand. I arched my back when he clamped down on it roughly.

“Jace,” I gasped.

“You’re so responsive to me. I can’t wait to see how you’ll be when I have my mouth on your pussy.” My thighs clenched from the thought, and Jace’s expression turned knowing. “You’re wet for me, aren’t you?” he asked.

“Yes,” I hissed when he clamped down even harder on the abused flesh. “I’m so fucking wet for you. Just fuck me already.”

He smiled a little and shook his head. “No, baby. I’m going to take my time. By the end of this night, I will be well-acquainted with every freckle on this body, every curve, every scar and imperfection. You got me?”

He twisted his fingers before letting go and leaning down, taking my abused nipple into his mouth and sucking. I squirmed beneath him, running my hands over his broad back, loving the way his muscles tensed beneath my touch, loving every perfect curve and line. I couldn’t get enough.

Jace let go of me and began to move his way down.

“Jace, wait.” I grabbed onto a fistful of his hair, trying to stop him, but it was too late. He froze in his movement and I knew he was looking at my scar.

I moved my hands to my lower abdomen, covering up the slightly curved horizontal six-inch scar there. I had always been self-conscious about it. The first time I had become intimate with a man, two years after getting it, I made him keep the lights off.

I hadn’t known that man for long. We had been casually dating for three weeks before I took him to my bed. Looking back, I knew it wasn’t that I was attracted to him, but more so that I had been attracted to the idea of him, of not being alone at a time in my life when everything felt like it was going to shit. I slept with him, and I hated myself more afterward.

We broke up not long after that, and I hadn’t been intimate with another man since—until now—and I hadn’t thought to ask Jace to keep the lights off.

It was too late, however, because Jace gently removed my hand away from the scar and traced his fingers gently over the raised skin, from one end to the other.

His eyes moved up and met mine curiously, and though he didn’t ask about it, he must have known it affected me, even if it was obviously old, because without looking away from me, he leaned forward and kissed the scar.

Tears sprang to my eyes, and I didn’t know what to say or how to react.

A part of me wanted to shove him off, put on my clothes and leave.

A bigger, stupider part of me wanted to stay and see what he would do.

He said he wanted to familiarize himself with every curve, every imperfection of my body…

So what did he think now, when he realized I did have a very real imperfection that I was insecure about?

He kissed the scar over and over again, as if he wanted to do nothing more than erase all the pain associated with it.

He didn’t need to know that I wouldn’t get rid of the pain associated with this scar for all the money in the world.

Then, he moved down further and hooked his thumb onto my panties, pulling them down my legs. He settled his big body between them, placing my legs on either side of his shoulders before looking down at me.

Ignoring the intensity of my feeling before, I focused on the one thing that could make me forget. My need and desire for this man right here, right now.

How could I want someone so much, mere minutes after meeting them?

But I wanted Jace with everything, and I didn’t think there had ever been a time I wanted a man more.

“Are you just going to look at me?” I asked drily, and even from my position, I knew his lips were curved to one side in the arrogant smirk. The heavy tension from before was gone, and in its place was something much more potent.

“I don’t see anything wrong with looking. You’re so pretty to look at.” And, as if to prove his point, he moved his fingers over the sensitive skin there, separating the lips of my pussy before inserting two long fingers inside me.

I let out a slight groan and closed my eyes at the sensation, my legs curving over him, trapping him so he wouldn’t be able to leave.

“God, this feels so good,” I said, squeezing around him when he began to move.

I used his shoulders as leverage to push my hips, to get more of him, and still I needed more.

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