Page 60 of Deviant Illusions (The Memento Trilogy #2)
My chin has barely moved when he shakes his head. “Don’t look at me. Not yet. That’s for sunrise.”
My eyes burn at the reminder of how things used to be.
Kane doesn’t even realize that we were both the same; I just wore my toxic shit openly.
He hid his behind the soft-spoken boy who didn’t want to hurt anyone.
But we both did it, without force or coercion.
When everything else in our lives was manipulated, we found each other and now we’re doing it again despite knowing that it’s still toxic.
And just like then, I want him to stop the rest of the world. He grounds me, makes life less daunting, and he’s the only person who cares. So I lift my t-shirt, pulling it over my head while staring out at the sky, then lay back down.
“Fuck, pretty girl,” he breathes out in awe. “You’re even more beautiful like this.”
The sheets are slowly pulled down so they’re only covering up to my knees and it’s like the clouds are being controlled by it too as they slowly move over the shining, silver moon. Kane widens my thighs and softly kisses down to my chest as he makes circles on my clit with the pad of his thumb.
I push my hips down, searching for more while he’s content in the slow movements.
Even his mouth follows the same pace as he flattens his tongue over my nipple, massaging instead of tugging.
My back arches on a low moan as he groans, “That’s my good fucking wife.
” He pushes two fingers into me, rewarding me.
His arm is still injured, so I curl my fingers around the sheets, grabbing them in my fist to suppress the urge to touch him as he slowly fucks me.
A moan escapes when he kisses over the swell of my chest and sucks the skin underneath my nipple between his teeth.
There’s definitely going to be a mark. It gets harder to keep looking at the sky the longer he does it.
“Call me baby again,” he begs. “Make me real, Delilah. Bring me back as yours.”
I trap the tip of my tongue between my teeth because that’s one thing I refuse to do.
He fucked up, but I refuse fall into old patterns.
They’ll destroy me if this is another game, and I won’t give him the satisfaction of having anything other than physical from me.
This is where we thrive—our bodies, not emotions or mentally, when we only take from the other.
I keep quiet, refusing to do what he wants.
And he proves it was the right decision when he removes his fingers to slap directly over my clit, gritting, “Delilah.” It’s quickly followed with another slap.
It’s taken me all this time to finally come to terms with the fact that Kane is gone.
We were both wrong and right. He lied and said that Kane was dead; I lied and said that he was still here.
But he isn’t dead and he’s still not here because the real Kane wasn’t violent or demanding.
This Kane is. He groans as he stands, grabbing my neck and pulling me towards the window.
It’s slower than he would normally move.
I don’t fight him. I do what he wants—continue to look at the stars.
He pushes me headfirst through the window so I’m staring up at the sky and my shoulders are flat against the stone ledge as he leans over me. “This is your chance, koukla mou.”
“Let me fly.” I smile, pulling my arms through the window opening to hold them out.
His fingers flex on my neck as he roughly shakes his head. “Death won’t take you away from me.”
“Prove it.”
My throat constricts as he tightly massages up my neck to grip my jaw, his thumb digging into the joint until I open my mouth.
He spits down in a line, then growls, “Mine.” With his hold on my jaw, he pushes me further out of the window, trapping my legs inside the room as he steps between my thighs, spreading his legs.
“My filthy little pain slut.” The window ledge digs into the back of my thighs, but the little bite of pain is good.
I prefer this version of Kane: the angry one that doesn’t speak to me softly or make me miss the old version.
He roughly pushes three fingers into me, and I moan, uncaring that he can hear me now.
It pisses him off and he hooks his two middle fingers over my teeth.
The pressure against my jaw increases as he snaps, “Don’t make a fucking noise. ”
Stretching my arms out like a scarecrow, I smile up at the stars, more alive than I’ve ever been. He’s hard against my inner thigh, but he doesn’t remove his boxers as he bites into my tit and fucks me harder.
He curls his fingers up, pressing more of his weight against my body. I don’t know what changes, whether it’s the calm atmosphere or feeling his warmth covering me, but he builds me up to my climax faster than ever before.
Making circles on my clit with his thumb, he pushes another finger into me, and the burn forces a moan out of me as my head drops back.
“You want to be my fucking slut?” He spits into my mouth as he drags my head up. “I’ll treat you like a filthy fucking whore.”
He bites my cheek, my neck, any inch of skin that he can find is greeted with his teeth. His elbow hits the edge of the open window in quick succession as he fucks me harder, faster, more violently.
I can’t push my hips back to meet him, so I clench as I arch my back.
One bright star is unveiled with the clouds floating out of its path.
My eyes widen at the beauty of it, of that one singular source of light outshining the others that neighbor it.
It’s big enough to feel like I can reach out and snatch it for myself, but Kane stops me as he abruptly lets go off my jaw.
A scream is ripped from me at the sudden movement as I drop through the air without anything to catch me, and he grabs my nipple between his first two fingers, twisting and tugging with gravity pulling me down.
The fear of falling, the pain, and the way his fingers press against a sensitive spot inside me make me come with his name on my lips.
“Kane!”
My legs are trapped so I don’t fall over the edge.
He catches the back of my head before it can slam into the stone edge.
His features are darker, turbulent, as he leans over me and drags me up to meet his lips.
His kiss is just as violent and claiming.
I have to hold the window casing as he slows his fingers, still fucking me, still laying claim to me.