Page 322 of Coal Hearts

Raw, feminine power.

I could kill him like this.

Could slice a vein and bleed him out.

Cut off his balls and maim him.

I did none of those things.

I became his because, in return, he became mine.

I didn’t need him.

Not the way he needed me.

And that was my first weapon.

A weapon so wicked, it made me tremble to use it.

“Fuck,” he hissed as I tongued his slit. “Fuck.”

A sharp, salty droplet coated my lips; I looked up.

His eyes glowed sterling as he gave me every exposed, despairing piece of himself.

I increased my pace, worshipping him with my mouth.

My core clenched.

My nipples pebbled.

Quakes of sexual hunger pulsed through me, and...I made a different choice.

He’d been good once.

We were all inherently good beneath a lifetime of misery and mayhem.

His aggressiveness came from fear of loss, his possessiveness from fear of loneliness.

Therefore, I would give him the things he treasured.

I would be everything he ever wanted without giving him what he needed.

And then...one day, he would wake and see just how far he’d tumbled.

And when that day arrived, he’d save us.

If only to save himself.

Sucking hard, my jaw ached as I worked and licked him. Sucked and devoured him. His skin was so soft, his hardness twitching on my tongue.

His thighs turned to marble around me.

His hands turned to stone in my hair.

I swallowed him down and hummed in the back of my throat.

“Jesus Christ—” His head tipped back. His eyes snapped closed.