Page 49 of Eden's Deliverance

She throws her head back when I tuck into her neck, peppering kisses along the expanse of her chest and throat. “I don’t know…what if it’s weird? What if our parents—”

I clamp my hand over her mouth, kissing up to her ear in the way I know she goes crazy for. Whispering against the shell of it, I say, “Think about yourself, for once. Or better yet, stop fucking thinking.” I hoist her off the counter so quickly she squeaks in surprise, giggling into my neck as I carry her to my room.

Huh.

I’ve never heard her laugh like that before. I guess I wouldn’t, seeing as I really only have been a jackass to her. Maybe one day, she’ll forgive me.

Her lips keep drawing me in like a magnet, so plump and red that I want to steal the color for myself. I want to take some of her red and store it away, because when I inevitably lose her all over again, I’ll need something to keep me going. If I could bathe in it, I would. If I could trap her in my bedroom forever, I would.

I’d do anything if it meant having her to myself.

She plucks sweetly at my bottom lip, tugging it between gentle teeth as she grinds senselessly against my cock. That would be fine and all…if I wasn’t trying to open this fucking door with her wriggling all over the place.

I slam her against it, trying to hold my balance when I reach for the handle, but she notices my struggle and takes pity by turning it for me.

Once we’re inside, it’s all easy then.

I don’t even have to remove my tongue from her mouth when I throw her down onto the bed and cradle into the opening of her thighs, giving her thefriction she’s been seeking this whole time. I’m in the middle of some of my finest dry-hump maneuvers when I get the notion that only one thing could make this moment better.

Music.

My laptop is still open on the desk in the corner of the room, connected to my wireless speaker from before I stepped outside to have that cigarette. I’ve been religiously listening to Sleep Token’s discography on repeat, so I reshuffle the playlist and choose “Sugar” to play first.

The mood is set. The girl I’ve been pining after for a year is in my bed. She wants me. She’s ready to go. I’m ready to go. Fuck Julian. FuckThePrince. This is mine…sheis mine.

“I like this, it’s nice. Who sings this?” she asks, sitting up from where she was lying on the bed to stare at me.

I take a moment to share how I found the band and even some of my favorite songs, but when I lock eyes on her again, I see the hesitancy. She’s stalling.

Nope.

We’ve come too far to quit now. Stalking towards the bed, I grab my shirt behind the neck and rip it over my head before tossing it on the floor.

Her eyes go wide for a second before she exclaims, “Oh! Let me see how your tattoo healed. Did you have any trouble with it? Any blowouts or—”

“Scarlett.” I reach the bed, plant a knee beside her, and crawl up the length of her body. As I get closer and closer to her face, she leans back in tandem with my own positioning.

“Yeah?” She looks nervous, but it’s not clear whether she’s still feeling doubtful or she’s just anxious to do this. I’ve never called her by her real name before—except asBroodyon her birthday—so the shock on her face is bittersweet.

“Shut the fuck up.”

I grab her by the jaw and press my lips against hers. It’s hungry and wet and sloppy, but our tongues work together now instead of fighting.

When we’re like this, we move in perfect unison; her mouth opening for me when I need to taste her, my lips closing around hers when she needs to take a breath. Our bodies exchange pleasure like a currency, each of us receiving while the other prospers.

She claws at my back, so I growl into her ear and send goosebumps across her skin. I suck on her neck, and she whines so softly that my dick twitches against her throbbing clit. She bites my lip, so I tug gently at the hair on her scalp where my fingers are threaded. I lift her shirt to suck on her tits, and she wraps her legs tighter around me until there’s not an inch of space separating us.

She breaks away for a second, crossing her arms to grab the bottom of her shirt before slowly peeling it off. Now, I’ve got plenty of room to kiss the length of her body without obstruction, but I’m focused on how fucking pretty she looks when she’s sprawled out like this for me. The curves of her waist fit my hands perfectly, and the heat radiating between us is intoxicating.

Then, I see it.

It’s faint enough that a passing eye would miss it, but I’d recognize it anywhere. I was there when it was made, after all. Bringing my lips to her left breast, I kiss the scar before trailing down her stomach, being careful not to linger suspiciously.

Having her as myself, without the disguise, is better than I could have imagined. I don’t have to tease her. I don’t have to edge her out. If I want to eat her pussy, I’m going to treat it like a fucking buffet.

When I wedge the panties down her legs, there’s no more reluctance on her face. Our eyes don’t break away from one another, so I see it all—the intrigue, the anticipation, the desire. It’s all for me.

I just hate that Julian had her first.

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