Page 104 of Forbidden Lessons

I leave the hoodie pulled down her shoulder, picking up her wrist, turning her hand over in mine, examining it. Some dirt under her nails, embedded deep where only a nail brush could have reached. Another small tear in her skin, near one knuckle.

The smell of my body wash on her skin is inebriating. I inhale deep as I press my lips to the small cut, as I lick her finger.

My cock was already hardening in the bathroom after I examined her underwear. It bobs as a fresh wave of blood is pumped into it.

I set her hand down, my gaze already gliding down her body, hungry for more. A predator deciding where to tear open its fresh, succulent kill.

Her bare feet twitch as I stare at them, but she’s unconscious, trapped in sleep.

Resting. Healing.

Her ankle bone is a sharp point in my palm as I lift her leg, my knees sliding onto the mattress beside her so I can get closer.

To examine her.

To heal her.

She washed her feet, but there are a multitude of small cuts and abrasions on her skin. How far did she walk to get here? I didn’t see her car, but I wasn’t driving, so it’s possible I simply missed it.

“Poor baby,” I murmur, closing my eyes as I inhale her scent, the tip of my nose trailing along the elegant arch of her foot. “Why did you do this to yourself?”

I kiss one of her cuts. Trail my tongue along a scratch.

There’s a bruise on her shin. I lavish it with my tongue, inhaling deep. My fingers dimple the flesh of her calf, then her thigh.

That’s when I see the scratch marks on her inner thigh.

Four jagged lines, livid against her pale skin.

My cock drags over her ankle as I roll her onto her back. Settles heavy and hard between the cradle of her shins as I lean on one arm and peel back her thigh with the other.

I crouch over her like an incubus, angry sounds rumbling out of my throat as I run my thumb over that blatant evidence of violence. I claw my hand, spreading my fingers until my nails are the same distance his was.

This must have hurt.

I stroke my nails down her thigh, her damaged flesh warm against my fingertips. Then I duck my head, nose touching her skin.

She washed herself here too. Familiar scents from my body wash linger on her.

I drink in a long breath before tracing each scratch with my tongue.

My hips rock, grinding my cock against her shin bones, the pain making me flinch as I lick, and lick, and lick.

I taste blood in my mouth, but my eyes are closed, and I can’t stop. It’s not just the pressure building in the base of my spine the longer I stimulate my rock-hard cock with her inert body…it’s the smell of her hitting my nose.

Not my body wash.

Not fresh blood from the wounds I’ve licked open.

Her.

I’m inches from her pussy. The heat of her closed legs, my body covering her legs, I can feel it radiating against my face, and with it, her scent.

I don’t know at what point I could have stopped myself.

Before I picked up her underwear?

Before I walked back in here, naked, determined to see how much damage she’d suffered?

---