Page 87 of Echoes of War

My tongue circled every sensitive spot at her center, making her wiggle, fighting to stay upright. Her eyes fell closed and I’m not sure why, but that pissed me off.

“Look at me,” I ordered.

They whipped open, heat lingering in her gaze. Wetness gushed over my tongue and I grinned, the whisper of my small laugh driving her wild.

“Fuck,” she purred, urging me on.

I didn’t stop until she broke free from my flame, hands curled within my hair and she dragged me up. When met face to face, I noticed a smear of red still stuck on the side of her face.

“Missed a spot,” I chuckled, my tongue running up her cheek, removing the blood.

She paused, and for a moment I thought I fucked it all up. A wicked grin formed on her face and she grabbed me, her tongue intertwined with mine. “You like that?” she asked, her voice hoarse.

Before I could answer, she was on her knees, hand reaching for something within the pile of clothes, water sloshing beneath her. Her fingers curled around the item she was feeling around for, one of her blades.

Amaia held my gaze. If I had ever known what awaited me, I would have not come to Monterey to kill her, but to worship the ground she walked on instead.

Slowly, she kissed up my body, stopping at my chest, waiting for my permission. I nodded, gripping the back of her neck. Leaning my head against the wall, I watched as she carved letters over the inkless space above my heart. My memories flickered back tothe ritual, the smile I’d tried to bite down from the satisfaction the pain of the bloodletting offered me. Of course she had noticed, because she thrived in pain, too.

Amaia

I grimaced through the ecstasy of the pain. Groaning as my dick pressed aching into my pants. I bit my lip, embracing the cold, piercing sting of the metal against my flesh. Her eyes danced when she finished, a burning heat rising to my face as she examined me through lowered lids. She twirled the knife in her hands, slamming it against me to pass the torch.

Hesitantly, I took it. Studying her, making sure she was certain. Fuck knew I wouldn’t be able to stop if we went this route. One look at her pleading eyes and I was reminded how similar we were. In pain, there was pleasure, and she would always have as much pleasure as she desired.

Amaia pointed to a space near the lower part of her right hip, drawing a line across the scar that marked her death. She placed her finger on where she wanted me. This scar was the trigger of a story that led me here. The reason I both hated and loved her. She kept her eyes steady on mine, bracing herself for the kiss of the knife.

It didn’t make me nervous to disrupt that perfect blemish on her skin. I’d done enough tattoos in my day. My hand was steady as I got to work.

I watched her with each letter, making sure she didn’t want me to stop. She whispered moans at the white-hot pain, finding a thrill in the coursing throb of all nine letters. When I was done, I admired the beauty of my work, now sporting on the most delicious body I’d ever laid eyes on.

Alexiares

Dropping the knife, I grabbed her hips. Amaia pushed my head forward, applying pressure as I licked her wound like each strokeof my tongue had the power to heal her. I don’t know what tasted better, her blood or her wetness.

The only way to find out would be indulging in both options. She stopped me before I got another taste, pushing me toward a lounge chair next to the couch. Leaning back, I spread my legs, resting my arms on the side. Amaia crawled over to me, finally relieving the tension from the clothes that restricted me.

She took my dick into her hands, tracing her tongue around my tip, then dove right in. Amaia took every inch as I fucked her throat, choking as my fingers laced through her curls, pushing her head down. Little moans escaping when I let her up for air, squirming at the absence of her lips around my dick. The sound was music to my ears.

At the sensation of me pulsating inside her warm mouth, Amaia pulled back a moment before I found my release, a dark smile crossing over her plump, reddened lips. I leaned forward, wiping the spit from around her mouth.

“Bend over, beautiful, that wasn’t very nice, teasing me that way.” I tossed her into the lounge chair, switching positions so quickly she yelped in surprise.

I stared at the curves of her body, admiring it. Questioning what the hell I’d done in life to have the privilege of ending up here with her.

She smirked back at me. “Now who’s teasing?”

I broke out of my trance, slapping her on the ass, proud of the hand print I left behind. Gripping her hips, I drove into her relentlessly. I pulled her head back near my lips, wanting her to hear exactly how she was making me feel.

Her moans grew louder, a hand finding hold of my wrists, her nails digging in and drawing blood. The sight of my blood on her made me painfully hard. A new sense of agony added to all the pleasure that being with her brought me.

She was intoxicating. I got rougher the more she pleaded, begging me to keep going.Harder. Deeper.She screamed her climax, my hand covering her mouth, allowing her to bite down for relief. When my job was complete, I fell into her, breathing heavily for a few moments as I found my release. Every muscle in my body went tense.

It took me a minute to gather myself, finding the strength to leave her warmth but desperate to find her lips again. She rolled over, making space for me within the lounge chair, and I pulled her into my lap. Amaia leaned against me, kissing along my jaw, then placing a few soft pecks on my mouth, stopping at her favorite place, the tip of my nose.

The room grew quiet, the weight of my confession suddenly creeping back in. She turned, tossing both of her legs over the side of the chair, tracing the outlines of her name on my heart.

She kissed it gently, “Now you have a new scar, one with good memories.”

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