Page 21 of Martyr
She almost doesn’t look like herself. She’s missing the layers of necklaces, the makeup, thefire. Being here has dulled her, perhaps. Or just the toll of coming off the drugs. There are dark circles under her eyes.
“I need to see you, too,” she whispers.
I nod. I peel off my jacket, then my shirt. My jeans and boxers follow. My socks. Naked, my dick pointing at her once again, I flash back to Terror. To standing in front of her. Waiting. Unsure. There as some sick lesson by my parents, some experiment to see if I’m twisted in the head.
Therapy would’ve been less traumatic.
“How do you want me?” Her husky voice goes straight through me.
I tilt my head.
“On the bed?” She goes back and perches on the edge, slowly parting her legs. She doesn’t touch herself, but I can see her arousal from here. “Like this? Or perhaps from behind…”
Another shift, and she kneels facing the wall.
No.
“Turn back around.”
Her head drops for a moment, but then she does. She rolls, her legs still parted.
I grasp my length and bite back a groan. Now’s not the time to be loud—our voices haven’t risen above a whisper since we got up here. I’m aware of how thin the walls probably are.
A chair under the doorknob wouldn’t stop someone from breaking it down to stop us.
I shake my head and pump myself slowly. “I don’t want you on that bed, golden girl.”
I pull the thin, flimsy mattress from the extra bed. It barely makes a noise hitting the rug-covered floor, and it’ll save us from the giveaway of a headboard banging against the wall when I finally thrust into her.
She bites her lip again but drops silently to her knees. She crawls toward me, not stopping until she’s planted her hands on my thighs and is once again eye level with my dick. She pushes my hand away from it.
I hadn’t even realized I held it again, stroking it slowly.
She licks the precum oozing from my tip, just once, to make it twitch even harder.
“I’m burning up for you,” I admit.
“Then come and take me.” She shifts onto her back, propped up by her forearms.
Her gaze sears, and it’s all the invitation I need to drop down to her level. I crawl over her, my body not yet touching hers. It will soon, in all the most satisfying places, but something holds me back.
I search her gaze.
“One hundred percent sober,” she whispers.
This isn’t a quick fuck with a girl I’m hot for. I notch myself at her entrance, still only a whisper of skin contact. She’s wet, and it makes it easy to thrust inside just a little. The tip is swallowed by her cunt, and I let out a shaky breath.
I pull back and inch forward, testing my resolve.
Her muscles grip at me, but she doesn’t even seem to breathe. She seems as captivated by the sight as me. When I stay still, her hips flex.
“Please get inside me right now,” she begs. “This teasing shit is going to kill me.”
I smirk. “Sorry, golden girl. Teasing isn’t what I was trying to do.”
I slide in deeper, inch by inch, until I’m fully sheathed.
Fuck. It’s been too long. Weeks without has left me sensitive—I can only imagine how it’s been for her. I doubt Saint has been helping her in that regard.
