Page 93 of Cinder
He drags his lips from my mouth, along my jaw and down to that sensitive spot beneath my ear. I moan and begin to massage his cock, wanting so desperately to feel it inside me.
He hisses in a rough breath. “That feels real good.”
His words are raspy, and goosebumps spread along my skin. I want to know how he sounds when he loses control. What he sounds like when he comes.
I’m so drunk on what his lips and tongue are doing, I don’t even notice him undo my bra until it joins the other items of clothing on the floor.
“Fuck, Ella. You’re fucking gorgeous,” he says, his lust-heavy eyes sweeping over my naked breasts.
He kisses me again, like he can’t get enough. Like he wants me so badly he can barely stand it. And I melt further into him, addicted to being wanted.
“Lie down,” he says, breaking off the kiss. He walks me over to the bed, and I sink onto the mattress and look up at him.
He kneels before me and reaches for my panties, his eyes connecting with mine as he slowly pulls them down my legs.
“Perhaps I should take a shower—” I say, suddenly self-conscious.
“I want to taste you, Ella. All of you. Not soap. Not anything but you.”
He lowers his gaze, and his brows pull in, and I realize he’s seen it.
My scar.
When he looks up, I see the question in his eyes.What happened?
“Please don’t make me tell you,” I plead.
“Did someone do this to you?”
I look away. I don’t want to tell him. I don’t want this moment ruined because of Luca. For the past ten minutes, he didn’t exist. Now he’s back again, and I can’t stand it.
Stupid fucking scar. It’s a permanent reminder of him. Like he’s etched on my skin forever.
Exactly what he wanted.
“Not now. It’s a story for another time.”
Thankfully, he doesn’t press the subject. But I know I will have to tell him at some point.
“Scars are beautiful,” he says quietly. “They tell our story.”
“Not this one,” I whisper. “Every time I see it, I’m reminded of something I wish I could forget.”
His jaw tightens. But he doesn’t break the spell by pushing for more information. “One of these days, you and I are going to talk about it.”
I nod.One day.
He lowers his lashes and leans in, his lips warm and reassuring, his tongue soft as he slowly works his way up the puckered skin.
Tears prick at the back of my eyes. Because I feel so exposed. I hate my scar. I hate what it represents. That Luca has control over my life, and I feel so powerless because of it. But at the same time, my body reacts to the closeness of Lars and the sweet sensation of his tongue against my skin. I don’t want him to stop at the top of my scar. I want him to move higher. To push my thighs apart and?—
“Oh,” The moan escapes my lips without warning. Because this man is making me feel things I’ve never felt before.
But Lars doesn’t stop. He glides his tongue along the scar, inch by slow inch, his breath warm on my skin, his tongue velvety smooth.
His fingers follow his tongue. Slow, gentle fingers moving higher up my thigh.
I reach for his hair and bite down on my lip. “Mmmmm.” Another involuntary moan.
