Thirty
Present
Skye
We stop walking after our trek out of his cell. The entire time he had held my hand, and I had held it back, squeezing him tightly. His touch is the only thing keeping me from crumbling. And now here we are, stopped and waiting.
I can’t see, but the silence is deafening. My skin warms, and I get the dreaded feeling I am being watched. I hold Savage’s hand so tight, my hand hurts. I feel him shuffle closer. I feel his body press against mine. I can smell the soap from that bath we took in my nose. I can also feel the puff of his breaths on my skin. They’re long and slow inhales. He’s in complete control of himself while I am hyperventilating.
The cover leaves my face.
It’s dark when I blink up at his ruthless face staring down at me. Our eyes connect and hold. Their dark depths are cold, but it’s his lips that are telling a different story. His mouth is softer. His lips are parted, his body impossibly still. His breaths change rhythm and speed up, but only for a few inhales.
He’s there—Hunter is there.
I can sense it.
I can feel it.
He looks away from me, his expression heavy with thoughts. He begins to turn me in the opposite direction, away from him so that my back is turned to him. I make to move in that direction, following his lead—
His hand grips mine impossibly tight. One second, I’m turning to face something, the next my body is shoved face first into him. My head hits his bare chest, and his arms come around me, caging me, holding me tightly. His body shakes with emotion I can’t read. I don’t know if he’s angry—fearful—violent. I want to look up at him, but he’s forced me against him so strongly, I feel like he could be warning me not to move.
I press further into him, shutting my eyes briefly because, as fucked up as this sounds, despite the morbid setting and situation and fucked up turn of events, I feel so fucking full in his arms. My heart—what the fuck—it’s happy.
I swipe my tongue against his chest, tasting his skin. It’s the smallest taste, but I need him on my tongue, running through my veins. His heart thumps harder as he holds his breath, peering down at me. Is he startled by me? Is he feeling as emotionally undone—
His cock hardens against my stomach.
He drops his head down. I can feel his breaths against my face, and then his mouth at my ear.
“Mine,” he whispers.
Hunter is back.
My chest inflates.
Hope emerges.
“Yours,” I whisper back.
He takes a deep breath at that, shutting his eyes briefly. “I need you to trust me.”
“Okay.”
“Do as I say.”
I repeat, “Okay.”
He opens his eyes. “On your knees.”
My heart jumps in surprise as I stare at him, wide-eyed. He stares back, that ruthless edge returning.
He is playing the part, and I need to play mine, too.
Slowly, I drop to my knees, and all of a sudden, there it is, the past is looking down at me, too. Taking me back to a moment when Hunter felt equally helpless.
“Suck me,” he orders next.