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"Come for me, Ella. Now."
Her back arched as I yanked her hair, pussy clenching around me, pulling me under. She pulsed around me and my fuck, she pulled my orgasm right out of me. I filled her, allowing my cock to empty inside her. If I hadn't been chemically castrated, we'd be well on our way to making a baby. Somehow, the thought made me sad in a way I'd never felt before.
"Christ, that was—"
"Intense," she finished for me, her voice a whisper of awe and exhaustion.
"Understatement, Sunshine." I chuckled, picking her up off the floor and pulling her onto the creaky bed.
Silence hung heavy, punctuated by the ragged drag of our breathing. I stared at the ceiling, a cracked canvas, as sweat trickled down my temple.
"Chris..." Her voice was a feather touch against the rawness of my skin.
"Sunshine." I rolled my head to the side, met her gaze. Brown eyes shimmered, pools of emotion so deep they threatened to suck me under.
Her hand brushed my chest, fingertips dancing over inked skin. Each tattoo a story, a sin, a soul taken—and she read them like scripture, seeking absolution I couldn't grant.
"Does it hurt?" She touched the edge of a phoenix rising from ashes, wings spread wide across my ribs.
"Like hell." Each needle's bite was nothing compared to the ache pulsing through me now—the need to protect her, to keep her.
"Good." A small smile played on her lips, devilish and sweet. "You deserve a little pain."
"Feisty." I growled, flipping us without warning. Her gasp lost as my mouth claimed hers, a kiss punishing as much as it was pleading. She kissed back with fervor, nails digging into my shoulders, stoking the fire inside me.
"Fuck, Ella." My breath hitched, heart slamming against my chest. This wasn't just lust—it was something more dangerous, more consuming. She was my sin and salvation, wrapped in one perfect package.
"Again, Chris," she whispered against my lips, hips arching up into mine.
"Not right now, vixen." I nipped her lower lip, tasting blood, salt, her. I wanted to fuck her lights out. But I quelled the need, barely. We needed to sleep. "Rest."
"Make me." Challenge flashed in her eyes.
"Damn woman." I half-laughed before flipping her onto her back and laying beside her. She was something else.
"Feels right though, doesn't it? This? Us?" Her fingers traced idle patterns on my chest.
"Too right." The words came out gruff. "Scary how right it feels."
"Darkness suits you. But even you can't deny there's light starting to peek through."
"Your light, Ella." My thumb stroked her bare shoulder. "You're the fucking sunrise in my never-ending night."
A soft sigh escaped her, and she shifted, pressing closer. "I see you, Chris. All of you. And still, here I am."
"Shit," I exhaled, the weight of her words heavy. "Here you are."
"Here we are," she corrected, her lips finding the tattooed flesh over my heart. A kiss landed there, searing into my skin.
In the cocoon of our twisted embrace, I knew we were fucked. Two broken souls clinging to each other amidst the chaos we called life. But fuck if it didn't feel like the most right thing in the world.
This right here? This woman was mine. By God, I didn't expect to fall in love with the merchandise. To upend my life. To break free from the life I lived in the most brutal way possible. But she was mine.
Mine to protect. Mine to fuck. Mine to worship.
Eighteen: Ella
The sun was a traitor, its rays creeping through the gap in the curtains like a snitch. It lured my eyes open, and I was awake, the reality of our situation settling on me. Chris lay next to me, his breaths steady, the rise and fall of his chest hypnotic. But even in sleep, his face wore that hard edge, like he was always ready for a fight.
