Page 27 of Deep Feelings & Shallow Graves

Carson

The water’s running, steaming up the mirror behind her, but I can’t take my eyes off her face.

Not her body. Not yet. That war’s already lost, I just haven’t surrendered. It’s the look in her eyes. Hollow and wild, soft and vicious. The kind of look that says I did what I had to. The kind of look that says touch me and mean every goddamn inch of it.

I mean it.

My hands are careful when I slide her jacket off. It’s ruined, spattered with blood that’s not hers. Thank fuck. I drop it to the tile like it’s made of thorns, then reach for the hem of her top. My knuckles brush her skin as I lift it, and she shivers, but doesn’t pull away.

That’s permission enough.

I peel the shirt off, slow. Let it catch just a second on her elbows so I can step in closer and breathe her in. Blood and sweat. Fear and fury. And something else under it all, something hot, alive. Like the violence isn’t over yet, just shifting forms.

“You okay?” I ask. My voice sounds like it’s coming from my teeth, not my throat.

She nods. Then again, smaller. “Yeah.”

It’s a lie. That doesn’t matter. I’m not asking for her story. I’m asking if she still wants me here. And she does. Her hands curl in the fabric of my shirt like she’s about to strip me, too, but she waits. Lets me lead.

I work her pants down next. I kiss just above her hip, then the inside of her knee. Not because I’m trying to seduce her. Because I saw her with blood on her hands and I need to remind her, she’s not just a weapon. She’s still mine to hold.

“Get in,” I say, once she’s bare and I’m stripped down to skin and nerves. “I’ll follow you in a second.”

She steps under the water without a word.

And I take a second. One breath. Two. Because if I go in there right now, I’ll devour her. And I need to be sure, dead sure, that she wants that.

I grab a towel. Wipe the red from her fingers. Then the washcloth, soaked and hot, dragging over her spine, her throat, her ribs. Her eyes close.

She tilts her head back and sighs.

“You’re still shaking,” I say.

“Yeah,” she whispers. “Not scared though.”

My cock throbs, vicious and sudden.

“Good,” I say. “Because I need to touch you like I might never get another chance.”

And then I step under the water and put my mouth on her.

The water beads across her skin like it doesn’t deserve to stay. I catch a droplet with my tongue, just beneath her collarbone, and her breath stutters like she wasn’t expecting that. She still doesn’t get how fucking precious she is to me.

I take my time with the washcloth. Rinsing blood off her arms, down her sides, between her thighs.

I make sure to be gentle. But I’m thorough, too, too thorough maybe, because she presses her thighs together when I linger, and her fingers curl in the fogged-up glass behind her like she needs to brace for impact.

“You’re allowed to feel good,” I say, voice husky against her hip. “After everything. You get to come back to your body now.”

Her breath hitches. She nods. And when she parts her thighs, it’s invitation and surrender all at once.

I let the washcloth fall, and then I slide two fingers between her lips, teasing her open.

She’s already slick, already needy. And fuck, she smells like skin and sex and hot water and home.

“God, sweetheart…” I groan, mouth at her neck. “You’re soaked, and it’s not the shower.”

“Carson,” she says, and it’s breathless, desperate. “Please.”

I slide my fingers in. Curl them just right, slow and steady, until her knees start to give.

I support her with my free hand, thumb circling her clit, and watch her.

Watch every gasp, every flutter of her lashes, every roll of her hips against me like she’s trying to fuck herself apart on just two fingers.

“That’s it,” I whisper. “Just like that. Let me feel you melt.”

She bites her lip. I bite her shoulder. Her body arches into my mouth, into my hands, into the need.

When she comes, it’s quiet and sharp, head back, thighs trembling, pussy clenching around my fingers like she’s trying to keep me inside her.

“Good girl,” I rasp, burying a kiss in her hair as she shudders. “You did so good for me.”

She sags against me and I hold her up, rinsing her off while she comes down, letting the water wash everything away except the heat burning low between us.

She’s still warm from the shower when I lift her into my arms, her body limp but pliant, like she knows I’ll carry her wherever she needs to go. And I will. Through blood, through fire, through every fucking mess the world wants to throw at her, I’ll carry her.

But right now, it’s just to bed.

The lamp’s still on. Soft. Golden. I sit her down on the edge of the mattress, lean in, and kiss her, still trying to taste the echo of her climax on her tongue.

I reach for my hat on the nightstand. The same damn uniform cap I threw off earlier like it didn’t matter. It does now.

I settle it gently on her damp hair, the brim tilted just enough to make her look fucking dangerous. A queen in stolen armor. And I sink back onto the mattress behind her.

Flat on my back. Eyes locked on hers.

“Now,” I say, voice ragged, “sit on your throne.”

Something hot and wicked sparks under her skin, and then she straddles my chest like she was born for it. She slides forward slow, wet heat dragging up my sternum, and when her thighs cage my head and I feel the weight of her settle over my mouth, I groan like it’s a prayer.

She’s already soaked. Already swollen.

When I grip her hips and pull her down like I’m starving, I mean it. I devour her. Tongue dragging through every wet inch, lips latching onto her clit like I’m afraid someone might take her away from me if I stop.

She grinds into my mouth, hat shadowing her eyes, head thrown back like a fucking goddess receiving her due.

“That’s it,” I growl into her cunt between licks. “Use me, sweetheart. Fuck yourself on my face. Drench me. Feed it to me.”

She does. Fuck, she does. She rides me like she owns me, and maybe she does, because I’d let her. I’d beg her. I’d die for this.

Her fingers tangle in my hair. Her thighs clamp tighter. Her hips start to stutter, her rhythm breaking as the pleasure overtakes her, and when she comes, it’s like lightning splitting her open. Her whole body quakes above me, voice cracking around my name like a curse and a prayer in one.

I keep licking through it. Lazy little circles until her thighs go slack and she collapses forward, hat half falling off her head.

I catch it before it drops. Set it back on her crown.

“Queen,” I say into her hair. “Every fucking inch of you.”

She laughs, glowing. A little ruined.

But I’m not done yet. Not even close.

She’s still catching her breath, thighs trembling where they straddle my chest. I trail my hands up them slow, from her knees to her hips, and I grip her gently, easing her down over my stomach, her wet pussy dragging heat across my skin.

“I need to be inside you. Need to feel you all around me,” I rasp, voice rough as gravel.

Her eyes meet mine, cheeks flushed from her high, and she nods like she’s entrusting me with something sacred.

I help her shift up, and I grip my cock in one hand, guiding the head through her slick folds until she shudders above me.

“That’s it,” I whisper, rubbing her clit with the tip, smearing her arousal all over. “Show me how badly you want it.”

She sinks down in one slow, devastating slide, and fuck. Fuck. I grip her hips, tight enough to bruise. She takes me like she was made for me, her walls wrapping, pulsing around me.

My head falls back against the pillow. “Jesus,” I hiss. “You feel so fucking good. So warm. So tight around me, like your pussy missed me.”

She rocks her hips once and I grunt, hips jerking up into her instinctively. She smirks down at me, hands braced on my chest, and that smile? That’s trouble.

“Keep going,” I groan, thrusting up into her. “Ride me. I want you to take what you need.”

She starts moving, slow at first, letting me pound up into her with every rise, every fall, the clap of skin meeting skin echoing through the room.

“You like that?” I pant, one hand sliding up to palm her breast, the other gripping her ass to guide her rhythm. “Like feeling me deep?”

She whimpers and nods, nails dragging down my chest.

“You’re so perfect,” I say, hips slamming up harder. “Look at you, dripping down my cock like it’s where you belong. You own me, sweetheart. This dick? Fuckin’ yours.”

Her head falls back, that hat still cocked wild on her hair, and her body trying to pull me deeper.

“That’s it,” I whisper, breath hot. “Come on my cock. Let go. Soak me.”

She rides me harder, matching my thrusts, her moans turning high, desperate, and then she shatters with a cry as her pussy spasms around me, soaking me in waves of slick heat.

I sit up in one surge of motion, arms wrapping around her, and flip her under me like the beast inside me’s done pretending to be tame.

She gasps, still quaking from her orgasm, but I don’t stop. I can’t. I haul her hips up, face to the mattress, ass high, legs spread, offering.

“Fuck,” I pant, lining up behind her, cock still glistening with her. “You don’t know what you do to me.”

I slam back inside her in one inhuman thrust.

God, she’s still so fucking wet. So tight.

I grip her hips hard, skin slapping skin as I fuck into her raw, no rhythm, just need. Just the blinding, overwhelming want to be deeper, deeper, like I could crawl inside her and live there.

Her hands clutch the sheets. Her body jolts with every thrust.

“You gonna come again for me?” I snarl, hand sliding up her back, fingers wrapping around the back of her neck as I fuck her down into the mattress. “Gonna let me ruin you properly this time?”

She sobs out a yes, and I groan, low and filthy, grinding in deep, balls tight, the curve of her ass smacking against my thighs as I pound into her.

My free hand smacks her ass once. Hard. She locks up around me and it’s a goddamn death grip. I’m about to lose it.

“That’s it,” I grit, leaning over her, mouth to her ear. “Come for me again. I wanna feel it. Wanna feel you milk me while I fill you up.”

She shakes beneath me, crying out as her pussy pulses again, squeezing so hard around my cock I snarl through my teeth and grab her tighter.

I fuck her through it, chasing the edge until it hits me like a sledgehammer, my orgasm tearing through me like a goddamn explosion, thick spurts flooding her as I slam deep, hold still, and just spill into her.

I stay there, buried to the hilt, both hands on her hips, panting. Possessive.

She collapses forward, and I follow, blanketing her body with mine, breath ragged against the back of her neck, still twitching inside her.

“You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me, sweetheart,” I whisper, kissing her shoulder. “And I’ll die grateful.” I press a kiss to the nape of her neck. Then another. Then one to her shoulder, softer still. My hand slides up her spine, grounding her. Grounding me.

I shift gently, easing out of her, trying not to jostle her too much. She whimpers at the loss, and I shush her, palm on her lower back, soothing.

“I’ve got you,” I say. “You’re okay. I’ve got you now.”

I pull back just enough to see her face, her eyes half-lidded, dazed, lips parted and swollen from earlier. She’s never looked more loved.

I cup her cheek. “You still with me?”

She nods, but I see the fatigue, the overwhelm, the flickers of something darker still haunting the edges of her gaze. Tonight wasn’t just about sex, it was blood and death and survival. And now... she’s in my arms.

My responsibility.

My everything.

I leave her just long enough to wet a soft cloth and then begin to clean her gently, wiping between her thighs with slow, careful strokes. “I’m not going anywhere,” I say quietly. “You’re not alone anymore. You hear me?”

Her eyes shimmer when she looks at me. No walls. No shields. Just that raw, aching want to believe me.

I lean up and kiss her, soft and sure. “You don’t have to carry anything by yourself now. Not the guilt. Not the fear. Not the mess.”

She swallows hard.

“I’ll carry it with you,” I promise. “Every fucking piece.”

She leans forward, arms wrapping around my neck again, and I hold her tight, rocking her slightly, letting her bury her face in my shoulder.

Eventually, I slide in behind her so she can lean against me, her back to my chest. My arms around her. My mouth brushing her temple every now and then, just to remind her I’m here. You’re safe. We’re okay.

And we just... breathe.