Page 18 of Bonepetal
First, her lips. One finger dragging slow across, feeling the heat of her. She sighs, lips parting under the pressure. My fingertip smears across her bottom lip, just enough to pull a wet sound from her throat, soft and broken. My dick twitches hard, vision going white at the edges.
I almost spill right there, just from that.
Fuck, I want to taste her. I want to split her lips open on my tongue until she’s crying into my mouth. But not yet. Not until I’ve taken my fill of watching her like this.
My hand drifts lower, cupping her cheek, brushing the drawstring of the hoodie, sliding slow down her throat. Her pulse thrums hard under my palm, frantic even in sleep, like her body knows before her mind does that I’m here. She shifts, thighs pressing together, hoodie riding higher, and fuck, my teeth grind. I want to rip it off, crawl inside her, hollow her out until nothing is left but me.
Patience. That’s the only religion I still keep.
My other hand goes to my belt.
The buckle clicks sharp in the quiet. Leather hisses through loops. Zipper slides. My cock springs free, heavy, veined, already weeping for her. I wrap my fist around it, stroke once—tight, slow—then again, knuckles white with restraint. Precum slicks my grip, drags over the head as my thumb circles, pressing until I hiss through my teeth.
“Salem,” I rasp, voice shredded raw from the grave, from hell, from wanting her every second I was gone.
She stirs. A little noise slips out. Could be my name. Could be nothing. Doesn’t matter. I’ll make it truth.
I jerk my cock again, slower but meaner, twisting at the tip until slick dribbles down my shaft. My hips twitch up into my fist, desperate, my breath harsh enough to echo inside the skull strapped to my face. Each sound is hunger amplified, a predator’s pant.
She moves in her sleep, thighs rubbing together, hoodie stretching across her tits until I can see her nipples pressing faint under the fabric. My cock jerks hard in my hand, veins thick and straining. I squeeze tighter, stroke faster, obscene wet sounds filling the room. My gaze never leaves her—her lips parted, chest rising like she’s gasping for me even in dreams.
I whisper to her like she’s awake, like she’s listening. “You’re mine. Always were. Always fucking will be.”
She whimpers. Rolls half onto her back, hoodie riding high. Stomach bare. Skin begging.
I lose it.
“Mine,” I growl, deep, guttural, and I let go.
Hot ropes spurt across her stomach, striping pale skin, streaking the hem of my hoodie. I pump through it, groaning low, every vein standing out on my cock, cum spilling over her navel, dripping down her hip.
Again. Again.
Thick and white and obscene.
I don’t stop until I’ve emptied everything I am onto her. Until she’s painted in me.
Until she smells like me.
I drag my hand through it, smear it across her stomach, streak her hoodie, paint her like scripture. She shifts in her sleep, lashes fluttering, lips parting, but she doesn’t wake. She just breathes harder, chest trembling like some part of her recognizes the truth.
I lean close, so close my breath stirs her hair, and lick the tear slipping from her eye.
Salt. Mine.
My cock twitches one last time, soft now but aching, the skin sticky with her name. I drag my fist over it, milk out the last drops onto her sheets, then shove myself back into my jeans. Zipper up. Belt buckled. Like I was never here, except I was.
And she’ll wake soaked in proof.
I stand, adjust the blanket higher, tucking it over her like a lie. She stirs, sighs, but doesn’t wake.Perfect.
I head for the window, boots whispering across the warped floorboards, and that’s when I see it. Sitting on the dresser glinting in the moonlight.
The cologne bottle. Empty now, dust on the glass, but it still fucking reeks of me.
I remember the day she found it—going back to where she swore she wouldn’t, breaking her promise with shaking hands just to claw out some piece of me. She wanted something to keep close, something to fill the hole I left in her chest. She thought it would help. All it did was prove she couldn’t let me go.
Even after the amber liquid dried up, she kept it. Just like she kept the tooth I gave her. Just like she kept the vow—until she fucked up and broke it.
