Page 45 of Her Name in Red
Then she reaches for the hem of her oversized t-shirt, the only thing she's still wearing, and pulls it up and over her head in one fluid motion. The knife clatters to the floor, forgotten.
Holy shit.
She's naked. Completely fucking naked. Standing there like a dark goddess descended from a place where beauty and danger are the same thing.
“Fuck me,” I whisper, not a request but a prayer.
She's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. Pale skin practically glowing in the dim light, making my mouth water. My fingerprints are stamped on her hips, angry red marks that'll bruise by morning. Her neck is raw from my beard, red patches that'll be a reminder tomorrow of what we did tonight.
But it's the scars that catch my eye—thin, silvery lines randomly scattered across her ribs, just underneath her perfect, perky breasts. Some look old, faded with time. Others seem newer, still pink and raised. I want to trace them with my tongue, learn the story of each one, memorize the map of her pain like it's sacred text.
“See something you like?” she asks, voice dripping with false sweetness.
“Everything,” I admit, my eyes tracking down her body. “Every fucking inch of you.”
Her lips curve into a predatory smile. “Well, you said to make you shut up, so let's do that.”
My cock jumps eagerly. “Oh yeah? And how do you think you're gonna get me to be quiet?” I challenge, but my voice is already rough, betraying how fucking desperate I am for whatever she's about to offer.
Maren moves back to the couch, every step a goddamn masterpiece of female perfection. The way her hips sway, the bounce of her tits, the long line of her spine—it's fucking art, and I'm a starving man at a feast.
She sits down, lounging back like she's on a throne instead of a second-hand couch. Her legs fall slightly open, giving me just a glimpse of pink that has my mouth watering. She crooks her finger at me, beckoning.
“Be a good boy, Number Thirteen,” she purrs, using my hockey number like it's some kind of leash she can yank. “And maybe if you're lucky, I'll let you drown in me.”
Jesus fucking Christ. I try to play it cool, but we both know I'm already defeated.
“Awfully confident for someone who was ready to come all over my hand two minutes ago,” I shoot back, but I'm already moving toward her, already dropping to my knees like the pathetic, Maren-whipped bastard I am.
I shuffle forward until my stomach presses against the edge of the couch, positioning myself between her legs. My hands slide up her thighs, feeling the smooth skin, the taut muscle underneath. I push them apart, opening her up to me.
“Fuck,” I breathe out, staring at her glistening cunt. She's so wet, her folds shiny and swollen, begging for attention. “Look at you, so fucking pretty and pink.”
I lean in, inhaling deeply, filling my lungs straight from the source.
“You just gonna stare at it all night?” She taunts, threading her red-tipped fingers through my hair, nails scraping my scalp. “I thought the point was to shut you up. Less talking, more using that mouth for what it's good for.”
“Shut up,” I growl, but there's no heat in it. I'm too focused on the feast in front of me.
I start with a long, slow lick from her entrance to her clit, gathering her on my tongue. Teases so fucking good I groan against her. Her thighs twitch on either side of my head, and I feel a surge of satisfaction.
“Good boy,” she sighs, her grip on my hair tightening. “Put that smart mouth to better use.”
I smirk against her cunt, but do as I'm told. Her taste is addictive—like some fucked-up cocktail of salt and honey that hits my system harder than any drug I've ever tried. I flatten my tongue, dragging it through her folds, gathering her wetness. My hands grip her thighs, pushing them wider, exposing more of her pink flesh to my hungry mouth.
“Fuck, you taste good,” I mumble against her, unable to keep quiet even when my mouth is full of her.
I circle her entrance with my tongue, teasing her, before plunging inside. Her walls clench around my tongue, and I can feel how fucking ready she is, how much she wants this despite all her tough talk.
“Harder,” she demands, her hips lifting off the couch to meet my mouth. “Use your teeth.”
I pull back slightly, looking up at her through my lashes. Her chest is heaving, her nipples hard little peaks that I'm dying to get my mouth on. But her cunt is calling to me, glistening and swollen, and I can't resist diving back in.
I graze my teeth over her clit, just the lightest scrape, and she fucking shudders.
“Yes,” she moans, her head falling back. “Like that. Don't you dare fucking stop.”
I alternate between soft licks and gentle bites, learning what makes her squirm, what makes her grip my hair tighter. When I suck her clit between my lips, applying just the right pressure, her thighs begin to tremble.
