Page 46 of Sink With Me

“Fuck, Cordelia.” The way he breathes my name has me rolling back into him, testing the feeling of being so full, only to lose the sensation and take it back again. Calloused palms wrap around my waist pulling me back to match his thrust hard enough for the bed frame to rock with our bodies, creating a steady pounding into the wall. If I thought my head was empty before, it doesn't compare to now. I clench, feeling his grip tighten into my flesh. He sucks in a hiss, unwilling to loosen his hold.

"I told you...” he pauses, wrapping his hand in my hair, pulling hard enough that my scalp stings and my eyes water until my back arches into his chest “You were made for me.” He punctuates the words with a deep thrust, hitting a spot I didn’t even know existed. My cries and whimpers bounce off the walls ringing back into my ears as I try to match his pace.

His mouth is on me everywhere, my neck, my shoulders, my back, twisting and turning my body to his liking. Digging in his teeth and sucking on every spot he can find. He palms at my breast, pulling my nipple between his fingers hard enough it has me whining then smooths his thumb in a tight circle over it.

It’s animalistic in a way that should bring me shame, but how can I feel embarrassed when each inch of my skin feels worshiped? He shifts his hand from my breast to my clit, circling it like he’s known my body longer than I have.

“You’re right, I’m obsessed with you.”

The words are harsh against my skin, but I can’t focus on a single one as my head spins and stars cloud my vision. Releasing my hair, he wraps his hand around my throat, feeling my rapid pulse kiss his thumb. I go light headed. It already felt nearly impossible to breathe but now with the added pressure I’m sure I might pass out.

“So obsessed, I stared at the same photo every day memorizing each freckle that painted your cheeks until it didn’t feed my fix, so I had to carve you into the knife you almost took my life with.”

He drags my sensitive bundle of nerves between his fingers, making the twisting in my abdomen become borderline unbearable.

“You’ve made me so sick that I had to ink you into my skin as if your mark on my neck wasn’t enough.”

My lips part in a silent scream, feeling the world around me still while my body shatters around him. Releasing my throat, he lets me fall forward, pounding me through my climax.

“I’m so twisted, now that I have you—” he groans through a shuddering breath. “I won’t let you go.”

My core heats, slicking my thighs to a point where I know it’s not just my release that is coating them. I whine from the loss of his body, collapsing into a puddle against the sheets. I’m dazed in a zone of complete uncertainty and a very odd amount of admiration, so lost in the chaotic scenario that has become my life.

The mission was simple. Kill him. But now…

I tense, feeling something warm slide between my legs in a touch so soft I hardly know it’s there. He shushes me, tracing his lips over my shoulders, brushing my hair off my neck to lie on the pillow.

“You did so well.” he groans as he runs his tongue over a spot that feels like broken skin. The bed raises as he climbs off leaving me a ragged breathing mess.

There’s a quiet click. I’d love to move; to roll off my stomach and onto my back so I can see the product of what should’ve never happened, but I’m too sore and exhausted. That’s a lie, I’m afraid. Not the type I feel when I get too close to water or high in the sky, but the type that is wrapping around my chest threatening to make it concave.

“Are you okay?”

No. I’m so unnaturally fucked it’s pathetic. I nod anyway, unwilling to get into another argument tonight after the best climax I’ve ever experienced in my life. He doesn’t reply, giving me the comfortable silence I always crave and drapes the cover over my waist.

We built our world in between chaos and bloodshed. Whether I want to or not, I trust him. Just like I want to believe he trusts me, even though I’m still unsure if he should. He could’ve killed and tortured me in worse ways, but he calms me, claims me, brings me to his room, and tries to heal what others have broken.

Typically, I’d be terrified of what my parents would think, but right now, with his body weight dipping into the bed beside me and his arm wrapping tight around my body, I can’t. I don’t want to hear their voices.

Date: 5-15-2024

Time: 0458

She’s so fucking beautiful when she’s sleeping with my marks on her. As much as I want to sit here and continue watching her, I can’t.

She was so distraught. I’ve had her yell at me, hit me, and come close to killing me on multiple occasions, but I’ve never seen her panic like that. In a sick way, I enjoyed knowing that it was me who caused that reaction. What I can’t stand is knowing someone put her through pain just so she could become some weapon.

I haven’t had a lick of shut eye, but I can’t, and I won’t. Not until I know what the actual hell is going on. I know I can’t push her like that again unless I want a chance of getting cut off both figuratively and literally, and I don’t want either. Especially now that I've felt how good she feels wrapped around me.

I hate being confused, and that’s all this woman has ever done to me. Yes, my father fucked up—he promised my mother the world, and he was close to getting it for her, but it didn’t work. He corrected his wrong doings just like she asked him to do before her death. To think that’s still what my siren thought about my task force tells me everything I need to know. I’m not an idiot by any means. I’m a seasoned soldier.

I know I’m on the verge of losing everything I’ve worked for with her, but maybe by the end I'll be able to fix the damage that was done to her pretty little head, and she'll understand.

Brushing a strand of hair off her forehead, I take my time to admire how peaceful she looks. She’s not a shark even in the most violent of ways, she’s just a little fish lost in the big ocean.

The sun is almost ready to come up. It peaks over the horizon through the vast windows beside the bed, highlighting her silhouette in the most ethereal way. Her bare back is exposed with the blanket draped just over her waist, making it almost physically impossible to keep my hands to myself. For once I'm grateful that I leave the curtains open every day. If I didn't then it'd be too dark to see the shiver that wracks her body from my finger trailing her spine. It’d be too easy and all too nice to just bury myself in her right now, making her watch the morning come to light over her biggest fear. God, she would be so beautiful it makes my cock stir at the thought.

The ping of my phone reminds me of why I can’t stay in this moment, forcing my body out of bed. I guess I fucked her into oblivion because she just snores in response. Good, she needed to get some actual sleep. Not once did she wake up in a panic throughout the night. I like to think that was my doing too.

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