Page 54 of Little Blue

His kiss is as ruthless as he is. It’s brutal and bruising and claiming. I submit to the power of it as though it’s the most natural thing in the world. As though my body has forever known that the day would come where I would belong to him, and it’s just giving in to the inevitable.

His body grinds into me, his chest crushing against mine until I can feel the pounding of his heart against my breast as my own beats in tandem.

Out of breath, my lips part. I suck in air that tastes entirely of him. He takes the moment to slide his tongue between my lips, savouring me. He doesn’t just slide his tongue against mine. There’s nothing tentative about the way his tongue licks into my mouth, his lips crushing into mine again and again.

As if my body wasn’t already aflame, I whimper as the burn threatens to incinerate me from the inside out. His mouth moves from my throbbing lips to kiss down my chin and over my jaw. He nips my ear as I throw my head to the side, offering him more access even as my mind screams distantly that I should fight him.

It feels too good.

He feels too good.

Oh....

His tongue is hot and wet, trading places with his lips and teeth as he travels down the length of my neck to suck at my pulse point. I moan a sound that is meant for dark spaces, intended for darker promises as I arch my back into his kiss. My eyes are closed now, my mind spinning.

I can’t think. If I think…

He releases my wrists and rears up between my legs. Cold air replaces the warmth of his body. I open my eyes in time to see his hands gripping the material of his shirt I wear, and then he pulls viciously. Fabric tears and buttons pop, scattering over the bed and falling to bounce and roll over the floor.

I make a noise between a gasp and a scream as he bares me to him. There’s not a lot of light in the room, but I can see him perfectly. So, I know he can see me.

He’s haloed in darkness, shadows bursting from his back as though taking flight on the wings of a dark devil in a darker night. The dark ink on his chest tells a story I don’t have the mental capacity for right now.

He's a work of art.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful.” His sentiment echoes my thoughts. He sounds almost pained.

When I make a move to cover myself, he maneuvers the shirt that still covers my arms, pinning me to the bed by the material. He’s on his knees between my legs, his chest bare and heaving as he looks down over me.

Like this, he feels even more powerful.

“Are you going to be a good girl and take your punishment or are you going to fight me?”

“What if I fight you?” I gasp, feeling so extremely on display. I want to beg him to cover me with his body.

“I’ll tie you to the bed by your wrists with my shirt.” His eyes dare me to fight.

“How are you going to punish me?” I resent the quiver I hear in my voice and lift my chin in a move of brave defiance.

“I already told you, Little Blue. I’m going to make you come.”

“H-how?”

“If I told you, that’d take all the fun out of it.”

I suddenly feel so very afraid. “I’m tired.”

“Should have thought of that when you moved to a new room.”

I gasp. “You left me!”

“I left you in my bed.” He drops his head to nip at my lips.

“You left for weeks.” Gosh, why does my voice have to sound so pathetically small?

So weak…

“Are you going to be a good girl?” he demands again.

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