Page 66 of Voracious

Soft lips press into my forehead as Dima gently offers, “Do you need to kill someone?”

No. I don’t feel angry or confused. I just feel blank, a good blank where the reel of memories aren’t being narrated anymore. He might scare other people, but he gently pushes all the shit in my head away. The demons in my mind are stubborn and they don’t leave with threats, only with his calm are they silent.

There are no ants as I press my lips to his in answer. He relaxes instantly as though he knows it too. Ever since I stopped skipping my meals and my period has come back, so has desire. I never had the energy before, my mind and body were too focused on survival, maybe it’s because he knows me, and I know he won’t hurt me? Whatever it is makes me move and I moan into his mouth as I grind down. Goosebumps trail across my skin in the wake of his fingertips ghosting over the back of my thighs. Chasing his fingers for more, I push my hips down, but he smirks and doesn’t fully touch me.

Asshole. I can just do it myself. When I try to sit up he grabs my nape and says, “Bring those sweet lips back to me.”

There’s a noise low in my throat that’s half a moan and half a whimper as I do what he said. He massages the back of my thigh, going under the t-shirt and doing the same to my ass.

“Oomnyashka.”1

The praise on his tongue is soft, matching the hand kneading my muscles and my legs drop open, silently begging him to movebetween my thighs. Anticipation has me coiled tightly as he trails his fingertips over the curve of my ass to my inner thighs, but it’s not in the right place. My teeth come out and I bite his lip, hard. It’s not hard enough to draw blood, just enough to tell him to stop playing with me. His fingers flex around my nape and I let his lip go.

“I know, moya krasota, but I need your words.” His coo is like a balm and an irritant to my heightened nerves.2

He thinks I’m beautiful?

All the words I have are pre-rehearsed, I don’t want to use those ones so I settle on a new one.

“Please?”

Not please stop, not please don’t do this like I’ve said in my head so many times. Just please. He smiles and kisses the tip of my nose. Letting go of my nape, he stretches and grabs a pillow before gently tapping my hip. “Sit up for me.”

Doing as instructed, I sit up on my knees and shuffle back expecting his dick to touch me, but he brings his knees up and fluffs the cushion up as he places it behind my shoulders and leans me back to rest against his thighs with my feet planted either side of his body.

A concentrated shot of his cologne hits the air as he uncaps a tube and squirts lotion into his palm. Is he moisturizing his hands instead of touching me? That’s weird and I’ve seen some weird shit. He ignores his dick fighting to escape as he warms it between his hands, and my need turns to angry frustration. I’m not the one who came into his bedroom or touched him first. I was happy with me, the grinder, and my book-inspired imagination.

I not so gently tap the edge of my foot off his hip and ask, “Give me my phone, aliens are fake and they’re better than you.”

He doesn’t react how I want, he’s too calm and in control as he stares at me with his eyes darkening.

“You are mine and I look after everything that belongs to me with the privilege it deserves.”

His hands land on my knees, he doesn’t move past the hem of the t-shirt and remains fixed on my eyes rather than between my legs.

“Take it off for me, lisichka, I want to see you.”

There’s only patience staring back at me, he’s testing me to see if I’m comfortable. Nerves flood my stomach with little flutters but no hesitation as I pull the t-shirt over my head. He continuesmoisturizingme as he massages down my calves.

Does he think I have dry skin?

I look down at my body to check and he moves forward into my line of vision and speaks around a smug smile.

“I want everyone to know you’re mine.”

I think I mumble squeak ‘okay’, and he kisses my cheek before warming lotion between his hands again to cover every inch of my skin in his scent. Reaching my wrists, he takes my hand in each of his and massages it before he goes back up my arm and massages my shoulders.It’s nice now that I’m not checking the dryness of my skin and my eyes close as he introduces every part of me to his hands, and he cups my tits, forcing a soft moan out of me.

“That’s it, malyshka, just relax.”

His stubble graces my collar bone before his lips touch below my ear, he doesn’t go to the unscarred side; he keeps them there right below the brand and softly sucks the sensitive skin between his lips as he massages across my ribs.

It’s comforting to smell like him and he massages across my lower back as his other hand goes to my arm that he hasn’t touched yet. He doesn’t do the same to my hand and instructs, “Make yourself feel good, show me what you thought I’d do.”

I can’t use my hand, it always brings the memories back, and my panic must be written on my face because he holds my jaw and speaks softly, mistakenly thinking I’m embarrassed.

“It’s okay, lisichka, remember it’s just me and you.”

The truth is worse, and I look over his shoulder at the headboard, hating that I’m fucked up as I mutter, “I don’t like the feeling on my hand.”

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