Page 42 of Stray

“Ozzy, I am so confused, baby.” Taking a shaking breath, I nod as I slip the covers down. I unbutton my jeans before looking at him as I slide the front of them down to show the crude letters burned into me. His breath hitches as he stares at it.

“Ozzy,” he whispers before I pull my pants back up.

“It’s what one of the men called me. I can’t… please Jackson.” I look at him, expecting to see disgust or pity. Instead, it’s anger and something else I can’t pinpoint.

He leans over and captures my lips with his. The kiss is so soft and sweet, “I’ll never say it again, ever.” He whispers before kissing my forehead.

“Are you grossed out?” I cringe. I didn’t mean to actually ask that. He looks me straight in the eyes.

“No.” He says, and his voice has no hesitation, but I’m still unsure.

“It’s okay if you are,” I whisper. “I wouldn’t blame you, it’s not pr–”

“Stop it,” he orders. “Am I feeling murderous because of what those sick fucks did to you? Yes. But you, Ozzy, you are beautiful. I am attracted to you, scars and all. And if I have to kiss every one of them to prove that to you, I will.” I feel my eyes well with unshed tears with his promise.

“That might take a while,” I breathe. “There’s a lot of them.”

“I’m a patient man,” my breath shudders as his lips glide over my hand where my scrollwork tattoo wraps around my scarred wrists and hands.

“Jackson,” I moan as he kisses the inside of my wrist.

“Tell me to stop, Ozzy,” he murmurs against my arm as he continues to locate every section of scarred skin and kiss it. “You tell me to stop, and I’m off.” A sob escapes my chest at his reassurance.

“D-don’t stop,” I whisper, the tears rolling as he moves to my shoulder, kissing the butterfly covering the burn scar from a fire poker. He moves to my jaw and then my lips before looking me in the eyes. He’s blurry from my tears. I try to blink them away, but it’s futile as more take their place.

“Ozzy, baby, you let those tears out, don’t try to force them away. You are safe with me, you got it?” He holds the side of my face, and I nod weakly before he moves to my neck. My body stills at the feeling. I wait for him to change his mind and for the flashbacks to start, but nothing happens.

Jackson runs his tongue over the side of my neck, and I feel pinpricks run over me. “You’re so beautiful, baby,” he coos in my ear before slipping down to the other shoulder, running hot kisses all the way down my collarbone, making his way down my body.

“Jackson,” I moan through my tears as I feel the heat pooling in my center. It’s been too long since I felt this way. It’s almost shameful like I shouldn’t be getting turned on over him touching my scars. My marks, my disgusting reminders of—

“Hey,” I flinch at the sound of his voice pulling me out of my thoughts. His eyes are on mine again, his thumb stroking my cheek. “You stay with me, Tink.”

“Jackson,” I whimper out, shame and embarrassment flooding my body. “I am scarred, inside and out.”

“Do you trust me?” He asks, and my eyes shudder. Do I? I look up at him, his body trapped between my legs. How he could easily dominate me, but I don’t fear he will.

“More than anyone else,” I answer honestly, and he gives me a half-smirk.

“Remember to say stop if you feel scared. Not self-conscious though, alright?” Furrowing my brows, I nod as he kisses me softly before trailing between my breasts, never moving my shirt and stopping at my jeans. I stare down as he looks up at me while slipping my jeans down.

“Oh my god,” I whisper, my heart pounding so hard it feels like it will break free from my chest. I force back a sob as he slips my panties down, all while staring into my eyes.

“Stay with me, beautiful.” He murmurs while nuzzling his face over my belly button.

“I’m nervous,” I choke out as the memory of the faint smell of burning flesh hits my nose.

“Ozzy,” Jackson says firmly. “You are in control, and there will be no surprises. I’m going to kiss you right here,” He says, touching me just above the “B.” My lip wobbles, but I nod. His soft lips are on my flesh, sending a current through me. He does it again above the following letter and the next. “You’re doing such a good job,” he praises, his hand stroking my thigh softly. He finishes the kisses and moves back to the beginning. “Now, I’m going to touch the scars, okay?”

“You don’t have to,” I offer softly, even though I don’t want him to stop at all. This feels so good. I don’t know if anything has ever felt this good.

I feel him chuckle as he runs his tongue over the “B” before kissing it. “I cannot believe you think this is some sort of obligation for me.” Oh my god, this is wrong, so wrong, I shouldn’t enjoy this. But I do. His tongue, his soft lips, and kind words, it’s like he’s reminding me that I’m still human, with wants, needs, and desires.

“Oh baby,” he purrs lowly as he finishes kissing above the “Y.” “That little noise you just let out will live forever in my mind, goddamn.” He kisses lower, right above my clit, and I whine in a need I thought I would never feel again.

“Needy cunt, I knew you wanted it – look how wet you—”

“Tink,” I blink and stare up at him, his body over me again. “Baby, let’s take a breather,” It’s now I realize I’m sobbing harder, shaking and covered in a sheen of sweat. I grip him around his strong neck and pull his weight on top of me. I need him: his scent and his warmth to ground me.

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