Page 107 of Scars and Burns

Together, we watch the skin begin to close. Seeing the gashes stitch back to one.

There’s not even a scar. No evidence that he was once bleeding out from a wound that would have killed him.

I gaze at his chiseled chest. Covered in exquisite tattoos. One piece of art on top of another. But what’s odd is there is an empty space. As if he left that part of his body alone for a specific reason.

It’s his sternum.

He slowly lifts his head. His eyes instantly find mine. I didn’t think it was possible but in the shadows from the fire in my room his eyes look even more deep and mysterious.

He grabs my hand and places my palm on his chest. “Thank you,” he says. Soft sincerity in his voice.

I smile and clear my throat. “I have a tunic that will fit you.” I begin to rise and go fetch it from my closet but he stops me. I pause, looking down at him.

We stay there, frozen for a moment. Then we’re crashing into one another again.

He pulls me on top of him. Hands finding coverage on my back. His body is huge compared to mine. Trying to straddle him the best I can. I’m flexible but not that flexible. I grasp his face in my hands. Feeling our bodies pressed together once more.

I feel him beneath me, never ending growth it would seem. He doesn’t bother unlacing my corset this time. He’s ripping it. His strong hands grip it. Tearing it in half like a piece of paper. He tosses it aside. Lifting up my tunic next. Raising my arms as he takes it off of me. I haven’t even had a chance to bring them back down before he’s grabbing me by the waist and flipping us over.

The breath hitches in my lung from the thud. But it doesn’t matter. He’s already consuming my mouth with his again in a bruising kiss. Stealing my air as his own.

I don’t have time to stop what we’re doing before he’s working his way down my body. His hands gripping and rubbing all at the sametime. Touching me in every place but the one that I need. I reach down and feel him.

That’s not even possible. No, one is this size.

I undo his slacks but he stops me before I can push them down. I look up at him and all I see is a smirk on his face.

“Patience my estrella. You are mine to pleasure first.”

I swallow, not sure how I should feel about the nickname he has given me but I like what he is saying.

He takes my hands and places them above my head. Holding my wrists together with one hand. While his other caresses down my body. I close my eyes as I feel his fingers trail along my skin. Grazing my cheek to my neck. Finding purchase on my breast as his lips ascend up my neck. He doesn’t stay there long. Continuing on his path, feeling him palm my waist as his fingers press into me. Pulling me closer toward him. I arch into the movement. Dropping my legs from around his torso as his fingers easily undo my slacks. Pulling them off me, along with my lace covering. More like ripping them off me. I don’t have a lot of clothes as it is and now two articles are torn. Though I can’t find it in me to care. His tongue envelopes mine and I almost cry out when he removes it.

Breathing the same air. Our moans mixing with one another as his lips makes their way down my body. Kissing and nipping at my skin, I’m lost in the ecstasy that is him.

I arch my back wanting my body to press into his even more. Needing to feel him skin to skin. With each touch, warmth spreads through my body. Fighting off the chill that has corrupted my soul. Filling me with an insatiable desire.

He releases my hands. They immediately find his hair. Soft and silky. Thick and full. I lace my fingers through it. Trying to move him closer to my center.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he tortures me. Working his way down my torso. Taking my nipples into his mouth. Twirling his tongue over each one. As his fingers graze over my center. Brushing along my folds ever so lightly, but never diving in.

Kissing and nipping at me again. I feel his lips and teeth graze over my lower stomach and inner thighs. Circling my center. Drawing closer each time but never close enough. His tongue peaks out ever so often and I moan in frustrating, longing for more.

I press the balls of my feet into the bed. Lifting my hips off of the mattress, toward his mouth. Attempting to grind myself against his tongue. I get close. I feel it against me. I feel his tongue catch some of my moisture that is dripping out of me at this point. But he pulls up, forcing me into this tortuously slow but ever so enticing pleasure. I flop my hips back down in frustration. We bounce on the bed, the mattress giving way to the force of my weight coming back down.

My breathing is shallow as I try to utter the word ‘more’.

He weaves his arms under my legs. Reaching up, I feel him grasp my breasts in his hands. Squeezing, twirling their weight in his palms. Twisting my nipples with the tips of his fingers. His coarse callouses causing just enough friction over my skin as he brushes them over my body. Grazing down my stomach.

I falter slightly when I feel him land on the scars on my thighs. Arms wrapped under my legs and his hands gripping my upper thighs. I was not worried about him feeling the scars on my torso. Those ones are larger and can easily be explained away from training mistakes. But the ones on my wrists and thighs that no one is meant to see are harder to brush off. Not quite as deep. Not near as thick. These scars are tiny, short, quick cuts without number on my skin. No one has grazed their fingers over them long enough to realize what they are but Aeron. Aeron is taking his time.

I almost pull away but I can’t bring myself to deny this want anylonger.

Closing my eyes and throwing my head back into the pillow. I get lost in the pleasure that is him. I can feel his eyes on me. I can feel his gaze never wavering. Taking all of me in.

He kisses my knee and down my thigh. His tongue hovers and brushes around and over my center.

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