Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 106003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
I pull him close and hold him, despite my instincts fighting it. This isn’t for me, I tell myself, it’s to soothe him. Then my mind suggests there’s nothing I do can achieve that, but I’m already holding him close, sliding my hand over the back of his head, and it feels so, so good. Like when he hugged me on the bike and I took a detour so it could last longer. Every inch of me craves this touch despite the fucked up storm of emotions within me.
Just like that, we’re close, and I’m tasting the salt of his tears when he strokes my face over and over, as if he needs to remember its shape. “It just makes me so sad… everything you’ve been through. You didn’t deserve that. You deserved someone who would love you and nurture you, and protect you. But I can’t reverse the past and take you out of there…”
“Please don’t waste your tears on me, precious. You’ve done so much for me already. Given me so much.” Now that I’m holding him, I don’t want to let go, and that’s the monster speaking. Offer him a finger, and he’ll take the hand. I slide my arms over his back. Sure, I’ve touched him before, but it feels different now. I know he was just pretending to sleep, I know he allowed it, but to have him here? In my darkness? Giving into my touch so freely?
It unlocks a part of me I didn’t know existed. The human buried within the monster.
“It’s not a waste,” he argues, kissing my cheek, and—oh God—his lips feel like silk-wrapped strawberries. “Nothing I do with you is a waste. I cherish every minute. I’m not afraid of you, and I want you here. You’re such a giving person, someone worthy of kindness. Even if no one saw that in you before, I do.”
“You trust me too much. I snapped before. I could snap again.” But he’s melting me. I don’t even say it with conviction, because while I whacked my aunt’s head with a candelabra until it was mush, I would never hurt Angel. I know it to the marrow in my bones. I’d sooner slit my own throat.
He rubs his face against mine, my stubble pulling on his soft skin, nose slotting with mine as he exhales, rubbing my calf with his bare foot. His scent is addictive, fresh yet somehow otherworldly, as if I can smell stardust still lingering on him since his last dream.
“No, you won’t. You will be good. For me.”
“I will.” I nod absentmindedly, because there’s nothing I want more.
I had no idea how much I’ve craved his closeness, his undivided attention, his freely given touch. I’ve been so elated to get to grope him in all the filthy ways I’ve craved that I didn’t even consider he might want to give back. He’s made attempts to touch me, he’s held my hand, stroked my arms once I felt comfortable about it, but maybe I needed him to cut through my barriers with force. He’s taking what I was unable to give of my own will, and I love every second of it. He sees parts of me the sun has never reached before, and doesn’t let me hide away. I was so afraid the light would scorch me that I didn’t realize it could feel so warm on my skin.
“You will,” Angel repeats, combing his fingers through my hair. “Because deep down you’re good. You’re beautiful. Worthy of care, and attention, and love.” His breathy voice hangs in the tiny space between our lips, tickling my skin like a warm, agile tongue.
I’m too shocked to remember the exact moment the proximity turns into a kiss, but it’s electric, terrifying, so warm, and so very sweet a sob is growing in me too. When he kisses me like this, I believe him. At least in this moment, I do feel beautiful. And good. And loved.
I lose myself in the kiss and explore his warm mouth with my tongue, like I’ve seen people do. Not when he’s limp and unresponsive, but while I face him, run my fingers up his back and let him touch me in return. His mouth is so eager to dance with mine, and when he presses against my thigh, his hard-on is obvious.
When the voice at the back of my head returns to tell me I’m bad, and dirty, and wrong in every way, that I don’t deserve to be here, or in his bed, I push it back. Because we’re not up there. Angel has descended into my shadows and joined me in the realm of nightmares.
He might not be familiar with the dangers looming in the dark, but I’ll protect him even with my tongue between his teeth. I have no idea what I’m doing, but that doesn’t make the soft slide of wet flesh against mine any less exciting. My cock is hard. My thoughts are racing. Blood’s thumping in my skull as my body twitches in a sudden jolt of excitement, because his touch has the power to overwhelm me despite me being so much stronger than him.