Page 141 of Almost Ravaged

I drag my hands up his calves, then along the curve of his muscles and tendons over his knees before continuing up his thighs.

Before I reach my intended destination, my fingertips graze over puckered skin, the sensation giving me pause.

My breath catches. The difference in texture is significant. Calloused, raised bumps adorn both his inner thighs.

The large splotches of ink decorating his skin are visible, and I noticed his thigh tats once I had my wits about me in the tub, but I can’t imagine tattoos would leave this kind of scarring.

My heart aches as understanding clicks into place.

I don’t want to ask. Ruin the moment. Pry into something he doesn’t want to discuss with me. But by the way his legs are tensing, he knows I’ve discovered them; I can’t just move past without an acknowledgment.

Before I can formulate the proper words, Mercer clears his throat. “They are what you think they are,” he tells me plainly.

His candor brings a little wave of relief with it.

He didn’t push me about my nightmares. I have no intention of pushing him about this. But I respect him too much not to show my appreciation for his willingness to share.

“They’re part of you.” I gather my hair over one shoulder and angle lower. “Part of your story. Thank you for not hiding from me.” I kiss the mottled skin of his left inner thigh, then switch sides and plant kisses all over the right as well.

He tenses on contact, but he doesn’t stop me. Nor does he use a safe word. Already, we’ve formed the kind of trust in one another that allows us to be vulnerable. That’s the beauty of having established our dynamic so early, I suppose. I know without a shadow of a doubt that if something isn’t working or doesn’t feel good, he’ll tell me right away.

I move up his thighs, leaving sloppier, wetter kisses as I approach my final destination and give his shaft a quick, tentative tug. When he groans quietly, I do it again, this time using both hands, one on top of the other, sheathing him completely save for the little bit of tip exposed at the top.

Like this, my grip firm but not tight, I lick and lavish the crown. After a few seconds, he hisses and rolls his hips, seeking more.

With a smile, I remove one hand and give the tip another lick, then work it up and down, up and down. I take him deeper, and deeper still, coating him with my saliva. Then I give him a few quick pumps, straddle him once more, and line his length up at my entrance.

He’s right there. At the precipice. The warm, wet stiffness of his erect cock nudging between my lips, teasing and begging to slide inside.

With a deep breath in, I drop my weight, taking several inches of him in one go.

“Incredible,” Mercer whispers through the dark.

As I roll my hips, taking him deeper, we both let out quiet, desperate groans. I’m wet and needy, still filled with his cum, making it easy to envelop him completely.

When he’s fully seated inside me, I lean forward and drape my softness around his solid chest, then capture his mouth in a kiss. “This is what I wanted.”

Him, buried deep inside me.

Us, together in bed, our bodies molding into something bright and new while drawing pleasure from one another.

He bites my lip and tugs. Once he’s released me, he smooths my hair off my face with both hands. “I’ve never felt anything as exquisite as your warm, wet, needy little pussy. You’re taking me so deep I feel like I’m a part of you.”

I clench around him, locking him in place and kissing him again. He follows my lead, plying me with slow, drugging kisses that make my pussy flutter. Sweet kisses that cause butterflies to take flight behind my ribcage.

When I can’t take the fullness for a moment longer, I arch back and roll my hips forward.

This angle is different and delicious; a sharp contrast to the way he fucked me out in the cornfield.

I roll my hips again, my inner muscles tensed, taking him with me.

On a quiet groan, he picks up on my rhythm, his smooth upward thrusts hitting just the right spot.

He builds me up. He drives me higher. He goes slow, stays quiet, and never takes his hands off me.

When I’m right there—so close I can hardly stand it, so high I want to cry—he pulls my body flush against his and buries his face in my neck. Then he fucks into me, chanting praises.

“Just like that, sweetheart. Come for me. Let go for me. You’re safe with me. I’m so glad you’re here.”