Page 40 of Rose

“Your moan is so fucking sexy,” he murmured, eyes locked on hers.

Ahzii laughed, breathless, her lips still tingling. “Still tense?”

“Yeah,” he said, licking his lips slowly. “But you helping.”

She smiled, and he leaned back, his hands now kneading her calves. “Now it’s your turn. Give me a fact about you… something no one knows.”

She narrowed her eyes. “It don’t gotta be deep, right?”

“Ms. No Emotional Attachment?” he teased. “Of course not.”

She rolled her eyes but gave it a moment of thought. “Hmm… I don’t know if people know this, ‘cause I never actually said it out loud, but… I want to open my own art museum one day. Same name as my shop. I want it to showcase my work and feature artists from all over the world.”

As she spoke, her eyes lit up, and Savior didn’t miss it. He watched her like she was the most fascinating piece of art she’d ever dreamt of hanging on those future museum walls.

“Damn,” he said with a smile. “I thought you were gonna go with something basic—like a favorite color or something.”

She laughed. “I think you already know my favorite color.”

“First color, red. Second, black.”

She blinked, surprised. “I was joking. How the hell you know that?”

He smirked. “It’s obvious. Your favorite flower’s a red rose. Your bike and your car are black. I bet your tattoo room, and most of your shop, are decked out in red and black too.”

Ahzii stared at him, then laughed, shaking her head. “Whatever. You only know that ‘cause you a stalker.”

“Nah,” he said, voice smooth. “I’m your man. I pay attention to everything about you.”

“You’re not my man.” She smiled despite herself. “Just a fuck buddy.”

“I love seeing that beautiful smile.” He ignored her words, letting his thumb trace lazy circles on her ankle. “You act like your mouth says one thing, but your body already claimed me.”

She didn’t argue. Not because he was right—but because she didn’t trust herself to say he wasn’t.

“Whatever,” she said, popping a grape into her mouth. “Give me a fact about you.”

He didn’t hesitate. “I’m an assassin. And the dangerous family I work for? It’s my own.”

She stilled, but not from fear—just intrigue.

“You only kill bad people, right?” she asked, her voice cautious but steady.

Savior nodded. “The worst of the worst.”

She nodded too. It tracked. Nothing about him screamed remorse for what he did, but there was purpose behind his violence. Morality, in its own twisted way.

Tonight, she saw more than the unhinged, bold man who crashed his way into her life. She saw the quiet in him. The ache he carried in silence. The protector. The observer. The man who survived by adapting, the way she had.

Maybe, just maybe, they were two broken pieces that didn’t feel jagged around each other.

And that terrified her.

“Want another pineapple?” Ahzii asked, holding up the bowl with a lazy smile.

“Yeah,” Savior said, voice thick and low as his eyes stayed trained on her lips rather than the fruit. She grabbed a slice and handed it to him, but instead of eating it, he bit into it slow, letting the sweet juice pool in his mouth. Then he held it there—no chew, no swallow.

Before she could even question him, he pulled the pineapple from his teeth and set it down, shifting on the couch. She barely noticed, too busy scrolling through Netflix.

That is, until—

“Fuck—Savior!”

She jumped, a squeal ripping from her throat when his mouth wrapped around her big toe. Her head snapped down, eyes wide, and he didn’t flinch. His lips moved like he was savoring something expensive, tongue sliding slowly between each toe like he was tasting her soul.

“I been craving to taste these fucking toes,” he murmured against her skin, kissing the arch of her foot before popping the pineapple into his mouth and chewing like nothing happened.

Ahzii sat frozen, lips parted, chest rising like she’d just sprinted. That shit felt… sinful. And too damn good.

“Why you looking at me like that, Allure?” he asked, eyes still on the TV like he hadn’t just fucked her head up with his mouth.

“Nothing,” she said quickly, trying to hide the tremble in her voice and the heat curling between her thighs.

“If you want me to do it again, just say that.” His smirk was cocky, unapologetic.

“Nope. I’m good.” But her toes rubbed together in betrayal, and he noticed .

Without a word, Savior lifted her legs off his lap and stood, but didn’t let go. Her feet stayed in his hands as he stared down at her like a lion deciding what part of the meal to devour next.

“Savior… what are you—”

She didn’t finish. She couldn’t. His lips were already back on her toes, sucking each one slow, deliberate, like he was imprinting her taste in his memory.

His tongue slid between them like he had all night to worship her feet.

Her head fell back into the couch as her mouth parted in a breathy moan.

“Mmmm…” she whimpered.

And he wasn’t done.

He reached into the bowl, grabbed a strawberry, and pushed it into his mouth. The juice painted his lips red before he bent again and started kissing and sucking her toes like they were dipped in his favorite dessert.

Strawberry juice ran in rivulets down her foot, sticky and sweet, and still, he didn’t stop. His tongue lapped it up. His mouth covered her arch. He groaned deep like her taste turned him on more than anything.

“I could eat you alive, Allure,” he muttered against her skin, his voice guttural, sinful. “Starting right the fuck here.”

Ahzii couldn’t think. Couldn’t speak. Her body betrayed every boundary she tried to keep. She was soaked, aching, and completely at this man’s mercy—all from the way he kissed, and sucked her feet like they were something to worship.

And worst of all?

She wanted more.

Savior dragged his tongue along the arch of her foot, then kissed his way up her legs—slow, deliberate, savoring every inch like her skin was made of something he couldn’t ever get enough of.

Her tight grey shorts clung to her body, rising high on her thighs as she shifted under his touch, breath catching the closer he got.

When he reached the soft flesh of her inner thigh, he paused.

A burn mark—small but visible—made his lips still for just a second.

Ahzii saw it too. Her heart dropped. She instinctively tried to pull away, to hide it, to cover it like she always did—but his grip only tightened, gentle but firm. Savior didn’t flinch. Instead, he leaned in and kissed the mark.

Soft. Intentional.

Again. And again.

His hands massaged her thighs while his lips stayed right there, showering the spot she tried to run from with tenderness she didn’t know how to receive.

“Savior…” she moaned, unsure whether it was a plea or a warning.

“You so fucking beautiful, Allure,” he murmured between kisses. “Every inch of you. Every stretch mark. Every scar. Every burn. That shit just tell your story... and I want to read all of it.”

Ahzii’s breath hitched, because it was what he said, and how he said it. Like he meant it. Like he saw her completely, and still wanted to taste her anyway.

He slid her shorts down slowly, revealing she wore nothing underneath.

“No panties?” he asked with a wicked grin, before pressing his lips to her already glistening lips. She gasped, caught off guard, but too far gone to resist. Then, as if he needed to see all of her—he lifted her shirt, revealing her c-section scar .

Her body stiffened immediately.

She moved to cover it, shame rising fast, but Savior caught her hand and traced her fingers over the scar.

His eyes never left hers.

“It’s a—” she started in a panic.

“You don’t have to tell me, Allure,” he cut her off softly. “Tell me when you ready... not because I see it. I’ll wait.”

Then he leaned forward and kissed the scar too—slow, reverent—before moving back between her thighs like a man starved for her.

He spread her legs, groaning low at the sight of how wet she already was. “Damn, hey baby Allure,” he whispered to her pussy, kissing her lips like he was greeting an old love.

Ahzii closed her eyes. He was taking his time, and it was fucking with her head, making her feel everything she tried to bury. And then he dove in.

“Fuuuck…” she moaned, her breath hitching as his tongue slid deep, slow strokes against her clit, her lips, everywhere. Like he wasn’t just eating pussy—he was worshipping it.

He reached into the fruit bowl, grabbed a cold slice of watermelon, and laid it right on her clit.

“Shit!” she cried, body jerking from the sudden chill. He popped the fruit in his mouth and chased it with her pussy, slurping the juice and her arousal like it was the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted.

“Ohh myy fuuuck,” she moaned, arching her back so hard her spine curved off the couch.

Savior didn’t let up.

“Is this my pussy, Allure?” he asked against her clit, not stopping the slow, devastating rhythm of his tongue.

She was too breathless to speak, too gone to answer.

“Is this my Baby Allure?” he asked again, voice muffled but possessive.

“Yes… fuck… yes… only yours,” she gasped, barely able to hold herself up as her body shook.

“You know you beautiful, right?” he murmured before diving back in.

“Uhh—Sav—” she panted, eyes rolling back as her orgasm crept up fast.

“Say it,” he growled. “Tell me you’re beautiful.”

“I’m… mmm… beautiful,” she moaned out, broken and breathless, right as she came.

Her legs trembled. Her body bucked. And Savior stayed right there—tongue deep, lips locked—licking up every drop of the mess he made, like he wasn’t done until she was completely undone.

Ahzii was still catching her breath, her chest rising and falling in soft waves as the aftershocks of her orgasm trembled through her limbs.

Savior stood and scooped her into his arms effortlessly.

Her legs wrapped around his waist out of instinct, her hands clutching his shoulders, but she refused to meet his gaze.

“Look at me, Allure,” he said gently .

She hesitated—just a moment—before lifting her eyes to his. The burn of tears threatened behind them, but she blinked rapidly, refusing to let them fall. Vulnerability wasn’t something she showed easily, not even to herself.

“You’re beautiful,” Savior said, his voice quiet but steady, like he needed her to believe it. “If I gotta remind you of that every day until it sinks in, I will.”

Her throat tightened. She looked deeper into his eyes, searching for anything that might hint he was just saying what she wanted to hear, but all she saw was truth. Pure, unfiltered truth.

“Scars and all?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Scars and all, Allure,” he said without hesitation, like the words had always been waiting in his chest.

She leaned into him, resting her head against his shoulder as he held her in the middle of her living room—no rush, no expectation. Just his arms and his quiet presence.

In that stillness, the silence said more than words ever could.

He didn’t try to fix her. He didn’t ask for anything.

He just held her—through the storm spinning in her head, without knowing she was anchoring him through his too.

They both were wrapped in the same kind of ache.

Different pain, same weight. And in this moment, it wasn’t about sex or power or even comfort.

It was about being seen.

Fully. Scars and all.

And loving anyway.