Page 23 of Poisonous Savage

"Rosalind, you don't gotta do this," he murmured, his voice gravelly, "Notif it's just 'cause?—"

"Marco,Iwant you,"Icut in, eyes locked on his, "Justas muchIcraveHunter'sdarkness,Ineedyour gentleness."

Hisgaze burned into mine, fierce and warm all at once.Henodded, understanding without needing the words, carrying me and lowering me to the edge of the bed.Hisfingers traced my inner thighs, coaxing them apart.Thesight of him there, ready to worship my body with his mouth, sent a surge of anticipation through me.

"Jesus,Rosalind, you're fucking beautiful," he breathed, almost in awe, before his tongue made contact.Warmthflickered, then roared to life as he tasted me, his movements deliberate, attentive, knowing exactly where to linger, where to press, where to tease until pleasure coiled tight inside me.

"Marco..."Itwas an exhale, a surrender, as ecstasy unfurled, washing over me in waves that pulled me under.Whenthe tide ebbed,Idragged him up by his shoulders, greedy for the feel of him, the weight of him.Heslid inside, his cock stretching me deliciously before he paused.

"Harder,"Iurged, nails raking down his back, marking him.Agrowl rumbled in his throat, and he obliged, finding that balance between possession and prayer, each thrust a statement of his claim and a question of my desire.Hethrust into me harder, but not so hard it felt likeI'dbreak apart.Hewhispered praise into my ear as his eyes searched mine.

"Damnnear perfect," he grunted, his rhythm relentless but measured, giving me allIasked for and pushing me toward the brink once again.

Igroaned and lifted my hips, feeling the build-up once again. "Slowfor a sec,"Isaid as he obliged, perfecting his pace, in and out as his breathing increased.

Thecrescendo built quickly and fast, and when he spilled his come onto my chest, it wasn't just a release—it was an affirmation thatIcould belong to both worlds: the dark and the tender.

Hecleaned the evidence of our union with a soft cloth, movements meticulous, before tucking me into bed and kissing my forehead.Then, he moved to the chair by the window, silhouette outlined by moonlight, whiskey glass in hand.Therewas peace in it, a promise of protection even as the world outside teetered on the brink of chaos.

Ilay there, the bed sheets cool against my skin, still flushed fromMarco'stouch.Icouldn't help but wonder howHunterwould simmer come sunrise.Wouldhe regret giving me whatIasked for?Wouldhe begrudgingly accept it?Whatwas he doing right now?

Fingerstraced the pathsMarco'slips had taken, the tender worship he'd lavished between my thighs still a ghostly sensation that made me shiver with need.Mymind wandered, danced with the dangerous musings of what itmight be like ifMarcounleashed himself upon me—not with care, but with the same ruthless dominance thatHunterdid.

Asmirk curled my lips.Eachman a half to my twisted whole, a dance of light and shadow.AndhereIwas, the center, the balance between their compulsions.

Eyelidsheavy,Ilet the day's chaos slip away as dreams beckoned.Butbefore sleep claimed me, a resolve took root in my heart.Iwanted more than whispered promises and stolen moments;Icraved their truths laid bare, the men behind the monsters.Aproper date with each.Preferablymore than one, butI'dtake whatIcould get.Especiallybefore the peace holding by a thread unraveled and became a blood-stained war between my father's clan and the one he sold me to.Iwanted to see them, know them, beyond the blood-stained legacy of theCinderCrew.

Thebed's softness cradled my aching body, but my mind raced, churning with the what-ifs and maybes of tomorrow.Hunter'swrath... would it face me as the sun broke the dawn?AndMarco, as gentle as he's been,Isensed the potential for storms just as fierce.Whowouldn't be a brute when faced with the choices they've faced?

Asigh escaped me.Mypast, a naive girl who'd craved the shadows without knowing their depth, their pull, seemeda distant memory.Shehad shattered, piece by piece, under the weight of who she became.Andnow, hereIlay, fragments bound together by the very hands that broke me.

Fuck.Iwanted them both: the pain and the pleasure.Butat what cost?Withevery touch, every moment,Isank deeper into their life, becoming the very personI'dalways tried to stave away by standing in the sun.

Tomorrow,Itold myself,I'dpeel back their layers and seek their truths.Datessound so fucking normal for lives steeped in blood and betrayal.Yet,Icraved that glimpse of normalcy, the chance to seeHunterandMarcostripped of their armor, bare and vulnerable before me.

Howwould we navigate this shit?Thequestion lingered, unanswered, as dreams pulled me under into a sea of what might be.Whatcould be… so long as myKingofSinand myKnightofRighteousnessget along.

MARCO

Morninghit me like a truck.Ihardly slept.Couldn't.Notwhen sunshine lay in my bed.Myarm was wrapped around her, her body curled into mine like she belonged there.Thewarmth from her skin seeped into me, andIabsorbed it all like a starved hound.

Shemoved, her dark lashes fluttering open, and those big doe eyes locked onto mine.Contentmentwarred with a gnawing unease in my gut.Thisthing between us was thrilling but dangerous as hell.Ihalf expectedHunterto be sitting in my chair, ready to sink that knife into my gut.

"Marco..."Hervoice was husky from sleep, hitting me right in the chest. "Whydo you like me?"

Fuck.Thatquestion.Itwas simple but loaded.Isearched for words, but they were slippery bastards.Mythroat closed up, every muscle in my body tensing.Clearingmy throat,Ihoped to buy some time.

Itraced the line of her jaw with a calloused finger, trying to communicate with touch what my voice couldn't manage.Thecurve of her cheek felt soft under my rough skin.

"Rosie,"Ifinally managed. "You're...you're... you make me feel likeI'mmore than the manIam.Eversince the momentIlaid eyes on you.Theway you'd stare at me...Ifelt like the sun was shining directly on me."

Itwas true.Shedid.Butadmitting it felt like handing over a loaded gun—with my heart as the target.Shedidn't say anything, just waited.Couldprobably tell the war going on in my mind asIwrestled with whether or notIshould tell herI'veloved her most of my life.

Myhands, scarred and weathered from years of bloodshed, cradled her face, the stark contrast between my life and her innocence never more apparent.Theweight of my confession hovered between us.

"Sincewe were kids,"Imurmured, gaze locked on hers. "I'dsee you withLucia, all smiles and laughter.Itfucking killed me."

Herbrows furrowed, confusion lacing those depths that saw too much yet not enough. "Butwhy?Whyeven bother with someone like me?Youbarely know me, yet you were willing to die to defend me.Why?"

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