Page 33 of Dolly

They never came.

His brow wrinkles. “Why do you say that?”

I shrug. “You’re so big.”

He laughs and pulls me into his chest to kiss my forehead.

“In a lot of ways,” I whisper into his ear, then bite down on his earlobe.

“Hmmm, is that right?” Scooping me up in his arms, he lifts me, only to toss me onto the bed with a bounce.

I scramble to my knees and crawl to the end of the bed. His eyes burn me as I kneel, grab the hem of my shirt, and pull it over my head. His gaze doesn’t move from mine.

“Are you going to shave this off?” I run my fingers over the stubble covering his jaw. His face was smooth and clean when he arrived in his cell. He looked younger, more innocent then. The dark beard suits him, distinguishes him from the man who had been dumped, drugged, bruised, and sliced in the cell across from me.

“I don’t think I will.” His voice is nearly as rough as his appearance. Unlike me, they never made him shave. “Are you going to spend all night staring at me, or do you think you’ll kiss me?” He’s teasing me again.

I tilt my head, like I’m seriously considering my next move. My mouth aches to touch his, and he must know it. He’s wearing his arrogance on his lips.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” I might have to make him wait for it. The little twitch of his eyebrow when I show him my defiance wakes my insides. My belly trembles when his eyes darken. The uncertainty of his actions shoots a tiny thrill down my spine. It’s been so long since the electricity running through me was anything but pure pain.

He slips his hands beneath my arms and hauls me from the bed until my feet touch the floor. My hands are drawn up over my head and placed there. He doesn’t have to tell me to keep still, it’s written all over his face. He wants my obedience. As if I could deny him anything.

His fingertips trail down my sides, tickling my ribs as he passes over them.

“So many scars.” He licks the white mark on my shoulder. It’s old, before my captivity. “So much beauty,” he mumbles, then kisses my neck, biting down on my flesh and sucking until I groan from the discomfort as it rises into purity of pleasure.

His hand wraps around my throat, not too hard, but his dominance, his control, is undeniable.

“Now, kiss me.” His voice shatters the sliver of resolve I hold in my grasp. Rising to my toes, I bring my mouth to his, pressing lightly. He squeezes my throat, and I wrap my arm around his neck, pulling him down toward me to deepen the kiss. My tongue pushes past his lips, dancing with his, until I’m not sure who’s kissing who. A nip to my lower lip, a brush of my tongue against his, we dance as one.

He’s the first to break away, throwing his head back and sucking in a long breath.

“Fuck, Dolly.” He’s grappling for his own control. When his control slips, I can tuck myself into him, freeing myself in the process. “I shouldn’t want to do what I want to do.” He’s torn.

I frame his face with my hands and pull him back to me. “I want it too. You’ll never hurt me—never truly hurt me.” I wrap one hand around his wrist and push his hand harder into my throat.

“I won’t be like them.” His voice drops.

“You’re nothing like them.” I squeeze his hand around me tighter. Air moves slightly out of my grasp. “I want you.”

His lips thin into a straight line. His nostrils flare with his harsh exhale.

A decision is made. The war is over.

Keeping his hand tight around my throat, he reaches down to his pants, undoes the buckle and the button and the zipper, and shoves them down his thighs. Without leaving my gaze, he kicks his jeans away from us and shoves me onto the bed, climbing on with me.

He drags me up higher, until we’re fully on the mattress. His hand flexes, and my air is lost. I close my eyes, enjoying the darkness creeping in around the edges.

With his knee, he shoves my legs apart and settles between them. His hard length rests against my wet, wanting sex.

“Breathe,” he orders as his fingers loosen. “Deep breaths.”

I suck in as much as I can before he squeezes again. I don’t know how long he’ll keep me under, but my gaze flocks to his. Locked in his blackened expression, I’m consumed by his energy.

Light begins to dance on the edge of my vision, and he releases again.

“Breathe in.” He hasn’t moved his hand away. He’s not finished.

---