Page 92 of Asking for Trouble
“I told you, I like to show, not tell,” he explained opaquely. “So I’m showin’ ya.”
I realized as he moved to another section of my torso, the curve beneath my bare breasts, that he waswritingon me with some kind of pen. I burned to know what he could be inking onto me, but I kept my eyes closed because I loved being his good girl.
He was mostly quiet as he worked, eventually relieving me of my shirt, carefully helping my arm through the sling and then the fabric. Next went my boxers so I was laid out like a naked canvas for his work. I shivered and moaned as he sucked each nipple long and leisurely, the pen constantly moving over my neck and torso. When he moved his mouth down to my mound, I moaned low and long at the first swipe of his tongue through my folds, shocked by how turned on I was by this experience.
By the sensation of being utterly worshipped.
He held me still with one arm across my hips as he alternated between feasting on my pussy and bending to write more words on my thighs and calves, all the way down to my toes.
When he finished my front, he helped me turn over onto my knees, braced on my elbows so I didn’t hurt my left hand, and then he went to work covering me in his love again.
By the time he finished, I was shaking, on the edge of an orgasm that threatened to devour me whole.
“Please, Bones,” I begged, head hanging between my shoulders.
Every atom of pain and exhaustion had been swept away by the building tide of pleasure he’d coaxed out of me.
“Hold on a minute, baby,” he said as the sounds of photos being taken filled the space. “You look so fuckin’ beautiful. Can’t wait to see what you look like tomorrow, next year, in a decade. Know you’ll just be more and more beautiful to me as I fall deeper in love with ya.”
I’d always bear the scars of my past, physical, mental, and emotionally, but they seemed so much more bearable under the weight of Aaron’s love written on my skin, kissed into my most sensitive places, whispered into my ear.
“No one could ever love someone as much as I love you,” I admitted as he helped me turn over and I reached for him blindly, hauling him close when my fingers brushed his shoulders. “I’d take every hardship all over again if I knew I’d end up here with you.”
The shape of his smile pressed to my mouth before he whispered, “Open your eyes, love.”
I opened them, waiting for them to adjust in the darkness to the sight before me.
He’d propped a frameless mirror against the counter across from me so I could see the way the neon pen strokes glowed against my flesh in the dark. I gasped at the colours, pink andblues and purples, my shadowed flesh brought to life by bright hues the way Aaron told me I’d brought colours to his greyscale world.
The words were backward in the reflection, but I could still pick some of them.
Brave, bold, beautiful, selfless, kind,funny, silly, sweet.
And along my jaw under my wounded cheek:bone deep.
I laughed as happiness dissolved the last of my tension, feeling free and beautiful and so in love with the man before me I thought I might cry from the sheer enormity of it.
I fumbled for one of the discarded pens by my hip and pulled off the cap with my teeth so I could write one thing over Aaron’s heart.
My love for you is electric.
He grinned down at me as I wrote and then laughed at the design as if he couldn’t contain his happiness any more than I could. His hand worked between us for a moment, pulling down his grey sweats so his cock was freed, hard and ready for me. As if the act of loving me was the biggest aphrodisiac.
I clung to him with my right arm around his shoulders and shifted as he pressed his length against my wet pussy, sighing as he slid through my snug channel unerringly until he was fully seated. The stretch and burn of him took my breath away, but he held me close as I adjusted to the sensation, and when he started to move, making love to me in a way I’d never experienced before, I knew this was it.
The ever-after shit he was talking about.
“I love you,” I whispered against his mouth. “No matter what comes.”
“Love you, my blue-eyed, blue-haired girl,” he murmured. “And I’m never lettin’ you go again so long as you’ll have me.”
For all his joking and charm, Boner was serious aboutme. Faith Cavendish, the good-for-nothing daughter of RoosterCavendish, the asshole set on burning down everything Boner knew. Yet he saw me only as Blue, the girl who loved beauty and fashion magazines, who was low-key addicted to curly fries and chocolate milkshakes, who searched for the fun and loveliness in life with zeal because it distracted from the constant ache of ugly terror I’d lived with at my heart.
He loved my curves and my hard edges. The scars and the soft places.
He loved me enough to burn down the world for me, and I loved him enough to trust he’d keep me safe even when the monsters came back to haunt us.
They would, I knew, but instead of fear, pressed tight to Aaron’s strong, sure form, filled with his cum as I called his name like a benediction when my own climax hit seconds later, I knew they could come for us again and again, and we’d survive every time.