Her Shadows, His Secrets - Page 79

My eyes water. “You have the power now.” I lay it down in exchange for the control. Because I have a fragile heart, one that’s been abandoned and bruised. He has the power to completely turn it to ashes in his hands if he hurts me.

What an exchange for two people who never should have ended up here.

“Theo.”

He doesn’t answer me. He keeps kissing me everywhere he can, lifting my dress to kiss my thighs, my hips, my stomach, and more.

“Baby,” I call to him, and he looks up at me, his eyes so worn and filled with fear. “I will take care of you. I won’t let you be afraid.” I test out my newfound control.

“You’re already doing it to me,” he admits.

Reaching down, I have him stand, and when he towers over me, I kiss the spot over his heart. “Take me upstairs; take what we both need. Please?” I ask him, and he doesn’t hesitate. He pulls me up, and I wrap my legs around his waist. He finishes opening the door by kicking it open.

I grab his face and kiss him, tasting his lips, and there is something different behind this one. There is love, and I never knew it could have a taste, but it does. We keep at it as he takes me up the stairs, never once letting our lips separate. Making it to my bedroom, he lays me down and hovers over me.

“You’re beautiful. You know that?”

“No. But I believe you will show me I am.”

He smiles, tucking my hair behind my ear. “Yeah, Hanna. I’m going to do that.” Standing from the bed, he takes my hand and brings me to my feet once again. We don’t speak with words, but when he starts to remove his boots, socks, and pants, I know what I need to do. Taking my dress at the hem, I remove it, left in just my bra. He removes his last item of clothing and watches me remove mine. The lace fabric hits the floor, and we stand in our nakedness. A man who was made of perfection and the woman believed to be built in flaws.

He moves first, sitting at the edge of the bed. I watch him, fighting the urge to cover my body as he peruses and worships it like it’s a temple. Now isn’t the time to ruin that we both just fell in love for the first time.

“Come here,” he says, bringing me to stand between his legs. His hands start at my calves, moving them over all the cellulite and dents, the fat I thought about removing with sharp tools at least once a day.

But he doesn’t treat me like that. If there is disgust like that in him, he wouldn’t love me, right? He gets to my stomach and kisses the flap of skin I hate most, biting it, leaving his mark. Each stretch mark he sees, he kisses, lines it with his fingers, and praises me. Words like “beautiful,” “handmade for him,” and “exquisite.” Words I would never believe a man would call me, especially one so in shape, handsome, and every word related to flawless. I almost feel guilty for not being on his level. He deserves perfection; he deserves the best. Though he is broken and programmed to not know how to love, he still deserves the type of woman worth challenging that for.

“I want you to ride me, sweet puppet.”

I nod, planting my hands on his shoulder and climbing on top of him. We stay sitting, and he lines me up with him. We lock eyes, and in unison we nod, and I slide down.

“Oh, baby,” he praises, and I get teary-eyed. He’s being so soft and sweet it’s overwhelming me. Theo is not this man, so for him to be it for me, it just hammers it home.

I slide up and down, using his shoulders as my anchor. He helps with his hands on my hips. They are lazy strokes. We aren’t tearing and clawing at one another as if we’re rabid. We are taking our time. I feel every vein of his thick length slide against the walls inside me.

“There has never been a better fit. How could you have been made for me so perfectly?” he questions, and I can’t find words. I’m merely surviving while being held captive by the chokehold he has on me. There is no one in this world I will ever love more than this man. And one day, it could happen—he could hurt me. I could stop being perfectly made for him. So I choose silence in this moment. I choose to not let him know what I’m feeling.

My legs start to quiver and shake, trembling from the intense orgasm building and all the work I’m putting into going so slowly so I can absorb it all.

Tags: C.C. Monroe, K.D. Robichaux Dark
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