“Too pretty for the likes of me.”
She turns to look at me, a strange look on her face as she stares. It’s softer than normal, like something just changed in her mind.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Yes, I just. . . I don’t know what to say.”
My hands turn her back to look out at the view, both of them wrapping around her waist as I lean on her shoulder and look at it with her. Could have been a different life here, one filled with those people in the park and their dreams of shit that doesn’t apply to me. I kiss the side of her cheek, my own eyes fixed on the waves crashing out there beyond us, and I remember swimming. I can almost hear Mother now, the shrill sound of her calling me in for dinner. I didn't.I kept swimming, burning energy and building my frame into something Father would be proud of, lean and muscular.
Intimidating.
“This is beautiful,” she murmurs, her hands covering mine. “Thank you.”
“Not as beautiful as you.”
She looks downwards, a sigh coming from somewhere. I spin her to me, unsure what the fuck she has to sigh about. Nothing comes out of her mouth for a whileas she continues to look at the floor. She's just quiet, a slight frown on her face, until, “I don't think you've ever said that to me.”
Probably not. “What's the sigh for?” She seems whimsical, like she’s somewhere else in her head. I duck down, getting right in her eye-line and tilting her chin back up.
“Nothing,” she says eventually. “You’ve just worried me, that’s all. You'll be all right, won't you?”
Cute.
I smile and pull her into me, pleased that she’s worried about me for some fucking reason, as I stare out at the sea again. That was never part of the bargain we struck, but it means something to me regardless. It sits down in my stomach somewhere, telling me things I’m not sure I’ve ever thought of before now. Maybe this is what love feels like, closeness that only comes between two people who know each other this well.
Her hands start fiddling with the buttons on my vest, opening them one by one. My brow arches interested in what the fuck she’s thinking.
“What are you up to?”
“Saying thank you,” she murmurs, her eyes looking up at me. I stare at them, a smile on my face as she keeps undoing buttons and tries to push my jacket from my shoulders.
“You feeling dirty?”
“I’m feeling thankful. Help me.”
No. She can feel thankful a little longer, struggle with that shit and undress me herself. I smirk at the tension that flashes across her face at my refusal to help, amused at her thankfulness as she picks at my shirt buttons as well.
My fingers pick her chin up again, mythumb slowly climbing up to that lip and gently running the length of it. The ridge of the cut bumps against my skin, regardless of the makeup. Imperfect.
Because of my hands.
“I want you naked. For once,” she says, eyes hardening at me.
Does she? Slut. I chuckle and slide my hand up to her hair, twining the length of it in my fingers. “Skin, Benjamin. Show me some of it.” Slutty and forward. “I want you all over me. Please,” she says, pulling at my tie a little more forcefully than she’s done before.
She gazes after that, gentle nails trailing over my ink after she's opened everything up. I shrug the jacket off completely and watch her move over me, enjoying something quiet for once. My life is in her hands now, all the memories etched in, all the deaths and murder.
“You've never told me what it all means,” she muses as her head ducks to my chest,lips roaming.
No. I won't either. That's not for her mind. It's in my memory. My scars. My villainy. My hatred. It's enough to have me picking her up, a squeal coming the moment I squeeze my fingers into her ass.
I smile at the sound of it, backing us into the house again and heading towards the stairs. Fuck talking now.
“You want naked, we’ll need a bed,” I mutter, hoisting her up and shoving her across my shoulder. “Forward little bitch.”
She snickers, her hands reaching for my backside. It’s a glorious sound, one that pisses me off and interests me at the same time. Perhaps we'll get into it again sometime. Talk. Not now, though. I smirk and carry on up the stairs, unsure what the fuck it is that I’m doing. It feels kinda nice. Like something’s different about us both here for some reason. Maybe it's the salty air doing something to my head, or the threat of death coming for me.
Whatever it is, it doesn’t stop my teeth from sinking into her ass, or me laughing at her yelp. She wants naked and raw, she can have it, and all that comes with that shit.She can see everything on show for a while. Enjoy it. She won’t be snickering at a goddamn thing by the end of it, because we're both gonna remember this fuck session.
