Page 43 of Ugly Truths
And still, I wait.
The fear in her eyes doesn’t disappear so much as it bleeds from her in a slow leak. It’s as if all the fight in her is being sucked out from the bottom of her feet. By the time her shoulders slump, her gaze locks onto mine, wide and glassy and unblinking, before nodding just once.
It’s all I need.
Our mouths collide. There’s a sharp bite of pain where her nails dig into my chest, and my whole body ignites once again.
We only part long enough to tear off our shirts, returning to each other like magnets before the fabric even hits the floor. I nearly groan at the way her bra drags against me, her nipples stiff beneath the thin lace. One practiced flick of my hand and the clasp gives, the bra slipping down her front and catching between us for a second before it’s gone.
My hands clamp around her hips as I pivot, forcing her back toward the bed. Elena stumbles, knees hitting the edge before she falls onto the mattress.
She’sbreathing unevenly, eyes dragging down my body with the same hunger I feel clawing at my insides. My gaze rakes over the curves scorched into my memory and breasts that fit perfectly in my hands.
Why do I still have to feel this way looking at her?
My descent starts at her mouth when I finally close in, and she gives in greedily—tongue stroking mine with new desperation. I take and take and take, hands roaming up her stomach until I circle one of her nipples, already tight and ready between my fingers as I pinch.
She moans into the kiss, thrusting her chest into my touch. The response sends a wave of satisfaction tearing through me, vibrating through both of us as I pull harder, coaxing another gasp from her lips.
My hand drifts lower until it brushes the button of her jeans, and I break the kiss to follow my own movements like a starving dog. Suddenly, her fingers curl around mine with hesitation.
Frustration flares as I glance up at her, but the panic in her eyes stops me dead in my tracks.
Her grip loosens a little, but she doesn’t let go. “There are scars,” she whispers, small and unsure. “From the explosion. On my backside, mostly below my waist.”
She said in the recordings that she spent weeks recovering at Jeff’s place, but I was too angry to think much about what that could mean.
As if any of that could matter to me after everything else.
Without breaking eye contact, I continue my reach, slower this time, giving her a chance to pull away. She doesn’t.
The button pops open with ease, and I lean forward to press a lingering kiss to her sternum. I take my time, mouthing down the front of her body, pausing at each breast, lavishing both with my tongue and soft sucks until her breath hitches and her fingers tangle in my hair to tug at the root. Her skin is silk under my lips, and I can’t seem to pull away long enough to suck in a breath.
When I finally reach the waistband of her jeans, I drag the zipper down and peel the denim from her hips, tugging her panties down with them in one smooth pull. Only when they're both discarded on the floor do Isee one scar that starts at her left hip. The uneven lines continue down and disappear where her backside meets the mattress.
With too much force, I’m flipping Elena over and tossing her further onto the bed. She lets out a startled yelp from her as she bounces into place, and I can see everything.
Most scars are faint now, healed with time, but some stretch across the curve of her ass and down the backs of her thighs. My jaw tightens as I picture Jeff’s wife treating her in their home. Her body fevered, unable to move. Alone. Sick. In pain.
And I wasn’t there.
It rips through me almost as viscerally as everything else.
My index finger traces every ridge, every curve, marred and perfect. Goosebumps rise under my touch, and Elena shivers.
Over the fullness of her ass, I palm her, watching the skin indent around my hand, and that’s when I realize how hard I am. Aching, straining, fucking desperate. My other hand moves without thought, unfastening my jeans, freeing myself with a hissed breath as I stroke once just to keep from losing control too fast.
Elena lifts her hips slightly, pressing into my touch in a silent permission that nearly obliterates me.
I yank her up by the hips, dragging her into place. Knees wide, elbows down, ass high. And fuck me, the view steals the breath from my lungs.
I can barely see the scars anymore, not with the way lust clouds everything as she opens for me, exposing the pussy I’ve been dreaming of but haven’t allowed myself to think about outside of the darkness of my bedroom. Pink, glistening, and so fucking perfect.
Why does she have to be so perfect?
I grip her thighs and fit my face between them. She’s already trembling when I lean in and give her one, slow sweep of my tongue, from the base of her slit all the way to the top.
She exhales a shaky, wrecked whimper—her whole body shuddering like she wasn’t ready for it. I groan.
