Wretched Love

Kate

“I need sustenance,” I declared, my voice breathless and ragged.

Which made sense since I hadn’t exactly been using it for conversation these past hours.

Hours.

My limbs burned from exertion. My skin was electrified. My ass still stung. My mind light and heavy at the same time. I’d never felt so exhausted, so satisfied, so starving in my entire life.

The arms around me flexed, and I was moved so I was no longer splayed on top of his muscled torso, moving me underneath that muscled torso.

Swiss braced himself on his elbows, not giving me his full weight. His eyes danced as he caught my gaze, not looking at all tired after everything we’d done together.

The stamina of this man was beyond impressive.

“You need sustenance?” he repeated playfully.

A blush bloomed in my cheeks. I had no idea why his lighthearted tone caused me to blush considering what he just did to me.

I nodded instead of replying.

“Is that your fancy ass way of sayin’ you’re hungry?” he teased.

I bit my lip. “I don’t consider it overly fancy,” I said, a grin teasing the edges of my mouth. “But yes, a more common expression would be to say I am hungry.”

Swiss’s eyes danced with amusement. And something warm. Something that made me feel like someone.

Made me feel worth something.

And that there was the difference. That he was why I could let him hurt me without my trauma triggering me, without having a mental breakdown. It was almost… liberating to take ownership of myself in that way. To redefine the experiences, the horrible ways in which Preston had hurt and controlled me. Because even though Swiss was the one holding the strap, tying me up, marking my body, I felt powerful. In control the entire time.

A therapist would likely have a lot to say about so quickly trying to erase old memories with new ones. And none of those things would be positive. Maybe I was screwing myself up even more.

But I wasn’t going to overthink it. At least, I was going to try my best not to overthink it. I was just going to… be. Follow my instincts.

Swiss sat up in bed, taking me with him and somehow setting me down on unsteady feet. Even though I still needed to gain a few pounds, I was not exactly light, so him lifting me from a horizontal position was pretty darn impressive.

“Let’s go get you some food then,” he declared, kissing my forehead then walking over to retrieve his clothes.

I stood exactly where he put me, watching, rapt as he pulled on his jeans—commando—and slung a tee over his head.

Swiss’s eyes found me. “You keep lookin’ at me like that, standing there naked, food is gonna be a distant memory, darlin’.”

I swallowed roughly, my body needful, despite the—three?—orgasms I’d had not minutes ago. My stomach protested at the pause I made, and I realized I hadn’t eaten but a few bites of a muffin today, and had done more physical work than ever.

I quickly moved to retrieve my clothes, but Swiss stopped me.

“Nah,” he said, circling my wrist that was holding my tank. “Want you in my tee.”

I dropped my tank and straightened, taking the clothing from his hands. Before I put it on, I lifted it and inhaled, smiling at the mix of fragrances that were unique to him.

Then I realized that I’d just smelled an item of his clothing right in front of him, and that probably made me seem like a serial killer or something. I quickly shoved the shirt over my head, my face hot with embarrassment. The shirt was soft. Softer than French silk. It had been washed so many times it was thin, cozy. Though I had curves, I was a good deal shorter than Swiss which meant the shirt was more like a dress on me.

Once I was brave enough to swallow most of my embarrassment, I looked back up at him.

His expression was a punch in the stomach. There was heat in his eyes, yes, but not the same kind of inferno from earlier. Not a desperate, carnal hunger. No. This was something else. Tender. Reverent.

Pure.