Page 54 of That Sik Luv

“Briony, don’t,” he warns, grabbing my hand before forcing my back against the shower wall, his body pinning mine. “Allow me this.”

I stare up into the shadow of a man, wondering about his need to care for me in his own peculiar way. Relaxing, I allow him to wash me clean. He takes his time, almost memorizing every part of me as those rough hands now caress my chest, stomach, arms, even my hands lacing his fingers through mine.

I squint as I look up at his shadow again, trying to make out his face, but it’s useless. I can’t see anything.

But I can feel.

I reach my hands up after he washes them of the soap, cupping his chiseled jaw. I feel it clench beneath my palms as he stiffens in place, frozen like a statue. Water splashes me in the face, so I close my eyes, leaving my mouth parted as it runs down my lips.

I touch him, my fingertips running the bridge of his nose, down to his parted full lips. His breath is coming out in hot waves, his erection now resting against my stomach.

I reach up, finding his eyebrows with my fingertips. I feel a smooth rise towards the outside of his left one and my finger lingers there. It feels like a deep scar by the fleshy protrusion. Trailing the length of it, I find it reappears high up on the sharp curve of his cheekbone. Internally, I make up the image of him in my mind. The sharp cut of a powerful jaw, the dark hair, the large scar slashing across his beautiful hazel eyes, the additional scar down by his full bottom lips, and the faint one trailing along the right side of his jaw. I’ve seen pieces of him behind different masks, and putting it all together, I attempt to create his image in my mind.

I’ve just never seen anyone like him before.

“Where did you come from, Aero?” I whisper, my fingers trailing down from his jaw to his neck. I feel the scars littering his flesh, covered by the ink he’s painted over a past too harsh for the likes of me.

“Nowhere good,” he answers, leaning his head against mine as the water trickles down his locks over me.

I gnaw on the corner of my lip, wondering what that could possibly mean. What has this man been through to mold him into the ruthless, psychotic killer before me? There’s a presence of a heart in there. He has some semblance of a soul. It’s evident in the strange way he cares for me, the odd way he protects me from elements unknown.

“But it doesn’t matter where I came from. Because we’re here. We found each other,” he says, his hands sliding down my arms until they reach my wrists. He lifts them above my head, sealing them to the tile behind me. “And you won’t live without me now.”

My eyes widen slightly at his directness.

“I mean it, Briony. You’ll need to aim better next time,” he says in a taunting tone. “If you want a life that doesn’t have me in it, you’ll have to fucking kill me yourself. I’m yours, and you are forever mine.”

My chest caves at his words. It’s so much. The obsession. It’s crazy. It’s toxic. It’s making my body come alive again.

He leans his neck forward, turning his head to the side.

“Lick me,” he demands, placing the wound from my little stabbing incident before my mouth. “Heal your harm.”

He’s so primal. So animalistic by nature. He’s asking me to lick his wounds. The wound I created. He’s insane, and I can’t seem to get enough. Drawn to him like the suicidal moth to a knowing flame.

His hands tighten around my wrists as he nudges his head into me, opening himself for my healing. I stall for a moment, breathing heavily between us. Parting my lips, my tongue darts out, and I lick across the area with a flat tongue. Tasting the bitter metallic of his blood, he groans, grinding himself against me, his erection pressing into my hip.

Standing straight before me again, he drops my arms and they fall hard to my sides. Bending down, he grips behind my thighs, lifting me and slamming my back against the tile wall of the shower as all the air leaves my lungs. He wraps my thighs around his hips before gripping my wet hair with one hand and pulling it back, giving him my neck.

My face is entirely under the shower head now, as I cough, spitting out water. He holds me beneath it, watching, listening with fascination before I feel the head of his cock lined with my entrance. Pushing himself back inside me, a strangled noise leaves my throat. The inability to breathe has my focus elsewhere as the pain of stretching around him again catches up with me. He grips my thigh near my hip, thrusting himself into me again and again as I hang defenseless to his pleasure.

“Show me you can handle me,” he grunts, our skin slapping together violently as he fucks me at his pace.

The pace of a madman.

I feel like I’m drowning. The inability to breathe has me choking on water. His hand releases my hair, only to cover my mouth and nose with his palm. Air is taken completely as I feel myself clamp down on him internally. He groans loudly, the sound somehow entirely exhilarating, causing me to squeeze tighter, the burning pain slowly being replaced by an electrifying reminder of the euphoria I’d experienced.

My vision is blurry, and just as I’m feeling everything around me darken, the burning in my chest and lungs melting into a numbing sensation, he releases his hand, slapping his palm against the tile behind me. Thrusting his hips into me with long, hard strokes, my heavy breasts bounce wildly between us. I gasp for air as he holds me up against the wall with his long, thick cock spearing through me.

I feel the piercing rubbing against that spot again and my eyes roll back in my head as I work to focus on that and not on the sensation of being torn apart by a ruthless man taking what he needs. Primal. Animalistic. Nothing can keep him from me.

Like lightning, I’m struck with the pleasure that overtakes me. It’s quick, but hits me harder than ever. I cry out, piercing my nails into his shoulders, before dragging them down his arms, as sounds escape me I’ve never imagined I could.

“Fuck,” he hisses at my need to tear into his flesh, becoming sloppy with his motions.

He presses into me hard, stilling himself deep within, as he releases inside me.

My back hurts from the friction of the wet tile, my pussy feels swollen, raw, achingly sore, and I’ll surely have bruises from where his fingers dug into my thighs. I’m out of breath entirely as he pulls out of me, setting my feet back down on the shower floor.

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