Page 193 of On Edge

My songbird, who knows my darkness and loves me anyway, scars and all.

Her skin is so smooth, and her hair in my hands feels silk. The air smells of lavender bath bubbles and those damm Christmas candles she keeps buying, and she tastes of soap and cinnamon and all things too damn nice.

When I’m close, I thrust myself into her, hard and shudder, a groan escaping my lips. She cries out, tightening her legs around me.

“Oh fuck, Troy, oh my god.”

I feel her orgasm around me, and then I’m coming too, leaving my mark deep inside her.

After we lie there tangled in the sheets, I glance at the clock.

“We can still make the party.”

“You want to go?”

“Yes. I know you do. I can see it in your face.” She’s desperate to go and won’t tell me why. I’ll have to pry it out of her later. It’s something to do with her friends, I know it.

“Is that the only reason?” Her voice sounds unsure, and she looks exhausted, but there’s a freshly fucked smile on her face as she takes me in.

“Because I want to show you off. Want everyone to see that you chose me. That somehow, impossibly, you’re mine.”

“Possessive much.”

“Always.”

I pull back, look at her under me, naked in all her glory. “Come on. Get dressed. I want to see you in that red dress.”

“And then?”

“And then I’ll spend all night thinking about taking it off you when we get home.”