Page 79 of Voracious

Pressing his lips to my hair, he alternates between the hum and telling me I’m okay.

“You were so good for me, my perfect woman.”

I cry harder because he never calls anyone a woman, he once called someone who looked like she was born in the 1800’s a girl and thought nothing of it. But he didn’t say girl because he knows I’m not a child. When my tears finally stop, he holds my cheek, wiping away the tears still on my skin and kisses my forehead.

My raw eyes open, but my body is lighter, and I don’t say anything as I blink up at the person who has always been here. I don’t care that we fought or wished each other death years ago, this Dima is the real one. He uncaps a bottle of water and bypasses my hand as I weakly raise it. I open my mouth and he pours in little sips until I’ve had enough.

Foil crinkles and then something sweet melts against my lip. Looking down, there’s a piece of chocolate held out to me, and he speaks softly.

“Don’t bite it, let it melt on your tongue.”

Nodding my head, I stick my tongue out more than what’s needed, and he laughs, kissing my forehead and feeding me. It helps with gently bringing me down and I’ll always associate chocolate with this moment from now on. It’s sweeter with his lips moving across my face to my nose, my forehead, my cheeks, and eyelids.

His voice is coaxing and softer than the melted chocolate.

“How you feeling, lisichka?”

My smile is easy, and I don’t need to think about my answer. “Better.”

Not just from my tears but life, my brain chemistry has been altered, broken apart and rebuilt. He doesn’t look away from my eyes as he strokes my cheek with his thumb and slowly sits me up in increments.

“I want you to lay down on top of the sheets with your eyes closed when you’re ready.”

There’s no expectation, he’s waiting for me to refuse or agree.

My hesitance lies in my body’s capability, and he shakes his head, answering my silent question.

“I promise I won’t make you come again until your pussy isn’t as swollen and sensitive, I only want you to see what I do.”

Intrigue has me agreeing and we don’t move as we wait for our bodies to catch up and birdsong is coming through the open window – peace. When my shaking has reduced enough to move, he gently lifts me, laying me down in the middle of the bed. The soothing voice comes out again as he presses his lips to my browbone.

“Close your eyes for me, moya krasotka.”

Doing as he said, I lay there without the usual darkness. It’s not a physical darkness but mental, all of it has been slammed shut like it can’t exist when Dima is humming my song and the birds are singing it too.

There’s a soft click and he pauses his humming when I tense. His lips touch the center of my chest as he softly says, “I’m not counting, B.”

My name.

He’s using my name and the bed dips beside me.

“It might be a little cold, but I won’t hurt you.”

My eyes are still closed but it doesn’t mute my conviction.

“I know.”

I suck in a breath, not knowing what to expect. It’s not icy cold, it’s wet and a lower temperature than my heated skin. It soon turns comfortable, and I work out what he’s doing, he’s doodling on me. A laugh shakes my chest as he moves the pen across my thighs, my stomach, chest, and neck. It stops when he does it to my face and the touches are even more gentle. My chin, cheeks, forehead. The wet point that was touching me is removed as Dima strokes my hair out of my face and traces my eyebrows.

“Open those pretty eyes for me.”

I slowly blink, unsure of what he’s drawn and look down at the words on my skin. I can’t make out the red letters upside down and he holds his hand out to me. I’d never refuse to take it and allow him to lead me to the mirror. The letters are flipped, making it easier to read, and there’s a warmth in my chest as he stands behind me holding my waist without breaking any of the words up.

“I told you I’d tell you about yourself, lisichka.”

Both of my thighs have the same word in big letters.

M

---