Page 121 of The Oath We Give

“My pussy,”I mutter, sinking into the mattress beneath me, content to let the plush material absorb my thoroughly fucked body. My inner walls contract, squeezing around his shaft, feeling those barbells rub against the skin inside me.

Jesus fucking Christ. Like he needed the piercings with a dick this fucking big.

“That’s right, baby. It’s all mine, all fucking mine,” he grunts with brutal, short thrusts, his hips slapping against my sticky skin as he loses pace. “Fuck, gonna fill you up. Gonna fill this cunt. Fuck, fuck—”

When he comes, pumping stream after stream of warm cum into my pussy, it’s a beautifully raw moment. There is so much emotion on his normally passive face.

Brows furrowed together, teeth digging into his bottom lip, head tilted back in pleasure as he continues to lazily pump into me, fucking his cum deep inside of me.

I’d had sex before. Before everything.

Lost my virginity my sophomore year of high school to Ian, but that wasn’tthis.

I’d been able to fully remove my mind from the equation. Forced my head to empty, and all I could do was feel. My body hummed, twisted, and pushed toward him, hips meeting him thrust for thrust. I was lost in a cyclone of pleasure, slowly drowning in a pool of ecstasy.

There was no fear. No memories.

Absolute, all-encompassing bliss envelops my mind and body. Silas is better than any Ecstasy I’d ever taken. There’s no drug that could equal this. Nothing bad can touch me here. With him.

When there are only our heavy breaths echoing in the darkness of this bedroom, my stomach begins to quiver. My eyes burn with tears, and I know I’m going to break a cardinal rule of hookups: do not cry after sex.

But I can’t help it, not when I know I’m falling for him.

Not in a brutal, brazen form that feels like fists cracking through my bones and teeth piercing my flesh, not the way love has felt in the past. Not in the way my mind convinced my love was before him.

“Coraline,” Silas says, peering down at me with worry in his dark eyes. “Hey, talk to me. You still here with me?”

In this sickly sweet, soft way that makes me fucking cry.

Why now? Why him?

So many times, I have begged to be this beautiful, wanted woman who is gracious and kind. Nights I fell to my knees and prayed to any god who might listen to be the person worthy ofreallove.

I was instead told I was cast aside. Fated to be only bitter nights and tainted mornings. My entire life was to be spent cursed as one damning thing, unlovable.

But Silas takes his time with my name, like it’s his favorite word he wants to keep in his mouth for as long as possible. He does not rush it like a bad omen. He instead speaks it like a prophecy that was destined for his mouth.

Silas does not make me feel cursed.

He makes me feel loved.

“Why won’t you let me save you from me?”

Book made for [email protected]

TWENTY-EIGHT

THE CURSED ONE

SILAS

Coraline iswrappedin my hoodie when I come back into the bedroom. Tucked and hidden away within the black fabric, she sits against the headboard of the bed with her knees pulled up to her chest.

From the door, she looks so small,this fragile, tiny soul, and I find it hard to believe anyone had ever been afraid of her.

The warm mug in my hands produces steam as I walk toward her, sweats hanging loose on my hips as I sit on the edge of the bed, giving her space but reaching the cup in her direction.

“I don’t drink coffee,” she mutters, wiping her face with the sleeve of the hoodie. Redness stains her cheeks, tears still falling from her eyes.

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