Page 18 of Marked By Myth

His words had an effect on me, they always did, but right now? I felt like I was going to cry as he traced my tummy with his tongue, dipping into curves I didn’t have when we were together. Curves I couldn’t seem to get rid of despite the diets I went on, much to Beck’s annoyance.

“Don’t cover yourself again,” he demanded, before he moved between my thighs, his fingers dipping into my fishnet stockings, hooking his finger in right over my crotch and pulling. I felt, rather than heard, the stockings give way before he snapped the g-string elastic with his bare hands. My wet pussy hit the cool air and I gasped at the intrusion of coolness. Myth pulled my thighs up, over his shoulders, before his mouth descended on me. His warm tongue dipped over my folds, molding his mouth over me, and soothing the bite of the cold air. Throwing my head back, I let the beast between my legs take over.

It was so fucking wrong. Beck had been worried about this, I knew it, but there was no way I could stop this right now. Myth just knew my body better than I knew myself. There was a part of me that could never tell him no, and that was what was scary. He had complete control over me.

My mind blanked the second I felt his tongue in me, while his fingers rolled over my clit. My hips bucked off the bed, my pussy smashing against his face, as I rode toward my orgasm.

There was no use stopping it. I was powerless against it now. One orgasm and I was done, I’d leave this room and Myth behind for good.

I could use and abuse too.

He deserved it, after all.

God, why was I still so mad about what happened fifteen years ago?

When his nose nudged against my clit, I all but detonated against his mouth. He lapped at my orgasm like a man starved, until my body began to calm down and I fell back against the mattress. My pussy still throbbed from the aftereffects of my orgasm, but Myth made quick work of pushing his fingers into me. Two thick digits, sliding in, and causing me to sit up. Myth looked at me, his mouth wet from me, and an intensity in those emerald eyes that could have undone me if I let it.

He was quiet.

And I knew I should stop this, before it got too far, but the feeling of his thick fingers inside of me, probing, hooking around to hit that spot that had me seeing stars, while his mouth sucked on my clit…yeah, I wasn’t stopping this.

One more.

I told myself, one more, and I would shove him away and leave, probably with one of his shirts since he decimated mine. One flight home and I’d be safe from Adrian “Myth” Henning forever.

Even as I thought it, I knew it was a lie. He was ingrained in my soul, etched together from two sides of the same rock. Somehow, and I don’t even know how, but I felt like our souls had met before. Like we were soul mates through time, no matter how crazy that sounded, it was how I felt with him. It had always been that way with me and him, and that’s what was so scary.

I wanted to be owned by him, to be his again, to have him between my legs every day and to love him, but I couldn’t…not after what he did. He knew being with her would destroy me. But he hadn’t seen the aftermath, he hadn’t seen how I had destroyed myself after I left him.

No one did. That was the point of my self-destruction. Only, my heart continued on, piecing itself back together, bit by bit, stitch by bloody stitch, until I could breathe again.

My mind almost fractured when Myth pushed a third finger into me. I cried out, fisting the blankets around me as my hips moved, my pussy welcoming him like he belonged there. Fuck, maybe he did at one time, and she only knew familiarity. Beck never did this with me. He never ate me out like a king. If I wanted any kind of clit stimulation, it was a quick rub, so rough and dry that I cried out, and faked my orgasm.

Some men just weren’t that skilled in women’s pleasure, but he made up for it in other ways. Those ways…were not coming to me right now as I let my ex-husband bring me to another earth-shattering release.

“That’s it, baby,” he groaned. “Squeeze the fuck out of my fingers. Break them for all I care.”

Oh fuck.

My orgasm hit like a freight train, Myth lapping at me, his warm tongue sliding in between my folds, and holding me over his face like he couldn’t get enough.

I fell back against the bed, my mind a frazzle as I tried to get my body to cooperate with me. I felt heavy, like I’d run a marathon, just lifting my head was an effort. When Myth started to remove my boots, and then my ruined stockings, I didn’t say a word.

I couldn’t.

I should…I had to get out of here before it got worse. Before I let him ruin my future.

“Fuck me, you got more beautiful over the years,” he grunted. I turned my head to look up at him. He was devouring me with his eyes. Myth pulled off his shirt, revealing that body I craved. Hard muscles underneath a tapestry of inked artwork. There, in all its glory, on the centre of his pecs, was my name.

I could feel my lip wobble, the memory of the day he’d gotten it done coming back as if no time had passed at all.

“You miss my mouth and fingers, Rox?” he asked, his killer smirk making its way onto his cocky face.

“Fuck you.”

“As she wishes,” he said, prowling toward me. I used all my willpower to scoot back on the bed, away from him, but it only made his grin wider. We used to love our cat and mouse games.

God, so much of me was gone. I’d become a completely different person since I left. A person I didn’t recognise anymore.