Page 57 of Dead Love
“It’s not much,” he said.
“What is it?”
I turned the knob and opened the door. We stepped forward together, and once we were inside, he let go.
A giant window was open, revealing a blue-lit mountainside. Every surface was covered in green leaves and flowers, tiny lights strung throughout the room. The starred leaves of ivy stretched across the walls. The droplet petals of hydrangeas, blue blurring into white. Roses brighter than what was natural. Daisies that shivered in the breeze. The graceful clusters of lavender. The threaded edges of a lily, fraying at the ends. And though the window let in the cool air, every plant in the room was synthetic. Here, in this room Vincent had made for me, nothing would ever die.
A daffodil was in the middle of the room, just like the one I had found in the field when I had been searching for answers, and found Vincent instead.
They symbolize rebirth and spring,he had said.
And I felt like I was being born again. I didn’t feel like myself anymore, but someone new. More than I had once been.
“Do you like it?” he asked.
I sank down to my knees and I laid down in the blanket of leaves, vines, and blossoms. He stood straighter, looking down at me.
“It’s beautiful,” I whispered. When he didn’t move, I asked in a quieter voice, “Could you lay with me? Please?”
He didn’t move. A tingling sensation swept across my neck and cheeks, and I tried hard to force down the embarrassment, the rejection, but I told myself that this was real. Even if he said ‘no,’ whatever happened—this—everything he had made for me in here, was real. And it was mine.
Finally, he kneeled down, then laid beside me, our arms and legs touching. The ceiling was covered in leafy green foliage, the tiny star lights poking between the vines, the wires shining in the empty spaces between the artificial life. It was strange, and beautiful, like Vincent had wanted to steal the beauty from the world and wrap it up into a place where it would always be mine, forever.
“No one has ever done anything like this for me before,” I said.
I held my breath, expecting him to say that I simply needed to experience more of the world, but he said nothing. He propped himself, leaning on his arm, then he cupped my head, holding me like he wanted to keep me safe.
“Kora,” he said.
I opened my eyes, my stomach clenching with knots. A warm fire burned in my belly. I was melting with need.
“Vincent,” I whispered.
He kissed me, slow and passionate, searching deeply within me this time, waiting to see where I would lead him. And when I kissed back, letting my lips and tongue dance with his, he pressed into me, leaning on top of my body. His cock was hard, pressing into my legs, and I moved my hips forward, trying to tell him what I was too nervous to say.Thank you, for everything. For this.
I lifted my back, letting him pull the shirt over my head, unsnapping the bra, sliding it off of my arms. I reached for his shirt but he took my wrists, gently pressing them down as he kissed my neck, my chest, traveling to my navel, then farther down between my legs. He stared down at me, then he slid off my pants, leaving my underwear on. His eyes were heavy with lust, and he breathed onto my panties, his hot breath tickling my skin, making me shiver. Then he pulled the fabric to the side and licked me there until I twitched against him. He slid my underwear off of my hips and began unbuttoning his shirt. When that proved to take too long, he ripped off the rest of the buttons, yanking his jeans and boxers down over his legs. Muscular and thick, covered in masculine hair like a forest, the scars on his chest and arms and back, creeping up his neck, marks that I had never seen in full: thick white lines danced around his body like thorns. So many thorns.
He kneeled before me, his gaze full of desire.
“I’ve never met anyone like you before,” he said. And though I knew he was a grown man, someone who had experienced far more than I ever had, I held this belief that everything he was saying was real.
He held my hips and legs, moving me until I was level with his cock. I held my breath. He pressed in and I tensed up, the pain seizing me, tightening every muscle. My face scrunched, and once it dissipated, I waited for him, but he didn’t move. He stared into my eyes, reading me.
“Take me,” I whispered. But he was still. Waiting for me. “I’m yours.”
With those words, he plunged in, the pain rushing to my head, but he held me there, waiting for my muscles to relax. His face was expressionless as a statue, and yet I knew that there was nothing icy about him. Vincent was consumed by death, but this? Surrounded by fake plants, by what hecouldcontrol, by what he could make for me—this was life. This was the joy and the pain of living, of sacrificing his own needs to be safe. Of risking himself for what he truly wanted.
I relaxed my jaw, my eyes locked with Vincent’s, and I nodded. He moved my legs so that my feet rested on his shoulders, and he moved me back and forth over his length. He licked his thumb, rubbing it over my clit. My face heated and my body clenched but Vincent never blinked. He was too focused on me, too consumed, as if he didn’t want to miss a single breath. My breathing quickened, and when his fingertips brushed my legs, light-headedness fluttered through me, making me dizzy, like the world was spinning even though we were both grounded, both held down inside of that room. My room. My hands and legs ached to bring him closer, so I wrapped around him until he was completely pressed against me. His breathing was ragged, and his skin rubbed against my clit, making me sink under a building heat. And when that frenzy of pleasure became too much, Vincent didn’t stop. He stared into my eyes, then he kissed me hard, with fever, with more passion than I had ever felt. My body thrummed and tensed; his cock pulsing into me, and we battled forth until I finally surrendered to him like I did every single time. As those waves crashed through me, I watched pleasure decimate him too. That’s when it connected: this was a temple for me, Vincent’s queen, his flower that could give him life when everything else was dead and gone. My breathing slowed as those words hung in my brain: this was a shrine to his last hope.
And that didn’t feel wrong anymore.
CHAPTER20
Vincent
Before the sun rose,I scooped Kora into my arms and brought her into the basement. Exhausted from the night, she barely stirred when I laid her on the couch. I tucked her inside of a blanket, then kissed her forehead.
Everything should have been perfect. But as I left the basement, the truth nagged me: all of this was still a cage, a way to keep Kora happy inside. I truly believed that I was helping her escape from a numbness that was holding her captive.
