Page 116 of Manacled Hearts

She nods and lies back down, making me miss the eye contact. “A bit sore, but good.” She says before she lets out a soft sigh. “Really good.”

Oh, Christ.

I have to work hard to remind myself that it would be wrong to sink into her again so soon. Even if I only use my tongue or my fingers. I rise and lie next to her before I can convince myself that it would be a good idea, but I make sure to hold the cloth to her.

“No pain?” I ask.

She shakes her head, turning to me, and graces me with those stunning eyes again. Even dark as they are in this dim light, they still work well to shatter my resolve.

“I’m finding it hard to keep my hands off of you right now, Evie darling.”

“Then don’t.” She reaches down, pulls the washcloth from my hand and throws it onto the floor as she turns on her side.

She doesn’t hesitate one bit when she throws her leg over my waist, her heel pressing on my ass as she wraps her body around mine. When her small hand brushes the hair from my face, and her breasts press onto my chest, I give in. I grab her ass, loving how my hand covers so much of that plump cheek, and flip onto my back bringing her on top of me.

She yelps then giggles, and I realize that’s the sound I want to die hearing. That soft giggle that sounds like birdsong on a lazy autumn day is my death song, and I would slowly drown myself right now so I can hear it on a maddening loop.

Like this, straddling me, she’s more sinful than my dominance could ever make her.

She tightens her legs against my hips, and her pussy finds the length of my cock at the same moment her tits brush against my chest, and she crushes her lips against mine. The tips of her bob-cut hair tickle the sides of my face, and I can’t help but dig my fingers into her flesh, pushing my ass up so I can press myself against her warm, soft cunt. I drag my other hand up her back, holding her in a possessive grip as she slowly grinds against me, moaning into my mouth as she rolls her tongue around mine.

Her hands are in my hair, tugging at the curls like she’s guiding me into the motions she needs me in, and with her soft body rubbing against mine, her pussy getting wetter by the second as it rolls against my cock, I realize that I’ve never known this type of intimacy. I’ve done plenty of sexual things, I’ve explored kinks and even experienced light play in Metamorphosis, Morrigan and Lulu’s fetish club. But this feels different. Soft yet intense. Slow yet feverish, and the lack of penetration isn’t tainting the moment. Quite the opposite, actually.

She strokes her tongue against mine, pulling away only so she can nip my lips before she dives back in, and my strokes on her back are turning desperate. The feel of her skin is addictive, the warmth, the goosebumps flaring when I touch her waist, it’s all so intense. I grab onto the back of her neck, holding her to me as our tongues tangle and the urgency of the kiss grows.

There used to be a line separating Evelyn and I… mere days ago. Now, I can’t even distinguish where I end and she begins. I don’t want to. Ever again.

Evelyn Shaw is—

“Mine,” I growl into her mouth, biting her lower lip before soothing it with my tongue, and dive back into the kiss.

That single word melts her body against mine, and the slickness of her pussy drenching my cock threatens to drive me down a path of madness.

Over and over, we kiss and grind against each other, falling in a beautifully brutal rhythm as we make up a song of mewls and groans. I thrust my hips up as I hold her ass down, and she cries out, throwing her head back. We’ll have to do something about that loud mouth of hers when Maya returns, but for now… I want more. I thrust up again, rubbing my length between her wet folds and she meets it with a stroke of her hips, shuddering as she falls back against me. I would call it dry-humping, but there is nothing dry about the drenched seam of Evelyn’s pussy.

I run my hand down the length of her spine before returning to the back of her neck, then thread my fingers in her hair, fisting it.

Evelyn yelps, terror breaking that sound as she slaps frantically at my arm and rips her body away from mine. It happens in two seconds flat and I’m too slow and stunned to catch her when she jumps off, cowering as she backs away to the foot of the bed, before she drops off of it.

“Evelyn, darling, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to—” The rest of the words catch in my throat when I rise to my knees and see her sitting on the floor.

With knees drawn to her chest, her body shakes uncontrollably as she rakes her fingers through her hair in frantic, trembling motions. Her gaze is unfocused, brows drawn together, and pain weaves with fear on her features.

I drop on my knees onto the floor, sliding close to her, careful to not freak her out. “It’s okay. It’s me, Evie darling, you know I won’t hurt you.”

She nods with agitated movements, like she knows it to be true, but her body and mind can’t fully grasp the truth in the words. She still doesn’t look at me, or stop the frenzied combing of her hair.

“You’re safe. No one in this life or the next will ever touch you, will ever catch you, will ever hurt you. You belong to yourself and yourself only.”

She blinks rapidly, the only indication that those words landed somewhere where she understood them.

I bring myself closer to her, in touching distance, but I don’t reach for her.

“Was it the hair?” I ask.

Her movements slow, and I notice the tears brimming her eyes some already streaking down her cheeks. Fury fills me for the men who did this to her, who taught her how to fear, who showed her what pain is. But now is not the time to add to the revenge plot I’ve been planning for a while. They will pay in blood, and I’ll surely make even The Carver himself proud.

Until then… “Can I touch your arm?”

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