Page 62 of His Innocent Muse

He’s not entirely wrong. What little I know of BDSM is from the internet, and how a sub really isn’t the meek, beaten thing porn would like you to believe. And yes, I suppose, I do want to turn my brain off, and hand over the reins to someone who will bring some semblance of balance back to my life.

But he makes it sound like I’d take that from just anyone. All his stammering, his jumping, his guilt, his fleeing… Could he really not understand it’shimthat brings that out in me?Himthat makes me feel safe?

I guess I understand. I did watch him kill someone. But you’d think witnessing that and getting in his car anyway would have been enough of a clue his soul spoke to me and invited me home.

Clearly his former partner didn’t spend much time assuring him he was safe, too. My nose scrunches at the thought, and Ghost pauses.

“What is that face?”

“Nothing, nothing,” I say. “Nothing you said. Go ahead.”

He runs his thumb up my nose, smoothing the creases before running his fingers over my brows again. I close my eyes and force a breath, letting his brilliant hands soothe my unreasonably irritated nerves.

“I don’t blame you for being angry,” he says, almost questioning, trying to lead me into answering. “You have every right to be.”

“I am,” I say. “But not with you.”

I open my eyes to see his narrowing in confusion. “Then…”

I lock my ankles and draw him closer, walking my fingers up his shoulders, finding the ridges I left last night on his back. He shudders at the sensation, and I dig my nails into him, leaving new crescent moons on my scratches.

“Shit,” he hisses, his shoulders flexing under my hands, and I nearly fall off the counter from the power of it all.

“I’ve neverwantedanyone in my life,” I say, holding his eyes as I trace every mark I made on him. “Not once. Not guys at school, not my dad’s friends, no one Chuck brought around. I wantyoubecause you’reyou.Because you, Ghost, make me feel safe enough towantsomething, even if I’m not sure I deserve it.”

He swallows, cheeks flushing, gears firing rapidly as he struggles to regain his composure. His hands slip down my body until they brace on the counter, tendons pushing against the skin as he strangles the cool marble.

I scoot further forward until my butt slips off the counter, wedging myself between his firm body and the kitchen island. He doesn’t move an inch, though his eyes follow me as I lower to my knees.

“I’ve never done this before, you know,” I say, anxious to bring it up again, to remind him I’m tainted. But I trust him. Believing him, that he wants me,he needs me, is simpler than I could’ve hoped, but the demons don’t die as easily as they should. “I wouldn’t let anyone get me here. I fought. And bit, and clawed, and screamed because no matter what they did, I wouldn’t kneel for anyone.”

His muscles jump under my fingertips as I trail them up his legs, his hips swinging half an inch back to give me better access. I tug the strings to keep him close and nuzzle his hard-on through the soft fabric.

The counter creaks under his grip, but still, he doesn’t move, doesn’t make a sound. Those white eyes bear down on me.

“I let you down so completely,” he says. “And you still trust me.”

I can’t help but beam up at him for not phrasing it like a question, and his chest hitches on a breath. I hook my fingers under his sweats, being sure to scratch his hip bones, leaving thin red lines matching the V as I drop them to his ankles.

“Yes, I do,” I say, pushing up to nose the coarse hair at the base. He growls, trembling, doing everything in his power to stay still. “I forgive you, and I trust you, and I…”

I love you.

“I want you,” I say instead, but I don’t hide the devotion shining in my eyes. “I want this. I wantus.”

He peels his sweaty hand off the counter to run it through my hair, tender at first, then demanding, pulling my hand back until the head of his cock brushes my lips. I stick out my tongue, laving the salty weep from his tip, and he hisses a curse through his teeth.

“Can I have you, Sir?” I ask, blinking wide eyes up at him. “Pretty please?”

I barely hear his feral “Yes” before he pivots forward and hits the back of my throat. He blesses me with a moan when I gag around him, and I drop my jaw wide, letting him fuck my mouth while my shaking hands wrap around the places my tongue can’t reach.

Like last night, he doesn’t deny me his noises. Pitching up an octave when I drag my nails on the inside of his thighs, groaning deeply when I squeeze his ass, gasping for air when I swirl my tongue over his head.

I could stay down here forever, just listening to him fall apart.

“Fuck, Lucy.” He tightens his hold on my hair like he’s going to pull back, and the whimper I let out is downright pathetic. His laugh is breathless, trembling, and he pants, “I have to...”

I scrunch my nose and tug against his hold until it hurts, swallowing around him. His knees buckle and he catches himself on the counter again, cursing into his arm.

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