So I tug on her hand and she follows without a word. Quickly, we go up the stairs in this breathless silence. It’s not tense or uncomfortable. It’s full of expectation.
It’s like a ritual, I think as I open the apartment door and we step inside. Not a creepy, bloodletting one, but a cleansing one. It feels that way with her, and I don’t know why.
Fuck knows I’ve never treated sex with respect before. It’s a relief, a distraction. A way to pass the time.
Not with her. She’s my priestess, my ray of light.
I know I’m falling too deep, that I should rein this back. Or cut it loose. Stop seeing her in that light. But I asked for this, and now she’s here, in my space, smiling a secret smile… and it’s too late.
I don’t want to save myself anymore.
I cup her face and drink in her smile. Fuck, she’s beautiful. I kiss her lips and drag my hands down her neck to her shoulders as I back her against the wall.
“You sure about this, little omega?”
She nods, kissing me back fiercely, hungrily. Her small hands pull on my T-shirt like the claws of a kitten. She’s practically hissing with frustration against my lips.
So I draw back, grab the hem and tear the offensive garment over my head, tossing it aside.
She goes still, staring at my body. I know it’s a lot to take in. All the ink, covering my torso and arms. I’ve been building it year by year, covering my skin. And there are the names.
“Who are they?” she whispers, tracing them with a delicate finger.
They all ask me that.
“My family,” I reply, because it’s the truth. They’re still mine even if I’m not theirs anymore.
Her gaze shutters. “Oh. I didn’t know?—”
“It’s not what you think.”
She searches my eyes for the truth and I let her see it. I’m not lying. After a moment, she nods. “This is a lot of ink.”
I crack a smile. “It sure is. Does it bother you?”
The ink, the names. A few scars, inside and out. A few rough spots.
When her hands trail over my pecs down to my stomach, when she doesn’t move away… I know she’s staying, at least for the night.
My candy girl. My candy doll. She’s made of spun sugar and marshmallow clouds. Soft, so soft. I want to devour her but I let her play with me for a bit, map my chest, look her fill.
“Off,” she says then, surprising me. The marshmallow clouds are hiding a core of fire. “Take all your clothes off.”
I arch a brow. “At your service.”
She giggles softly.
“Before I do…” I put my hands on the fly of my torn jeans. “You asked if I was pierced anywhere else. Well, I have a surprise for you.”
She licks her lips, her gaze focusing on my crotch. “What kind of surprise?”
“Let’s call it… a treat.”
Now her brows arch, too. “I think I’m getting an inkling. Inkling. From ink.” She grins. “Got it?”
I bark out a laugh. “Baby, you have no idea what I’m packing down there. You shouldn’t be joking if you did.”
“Let us see, then.”
