Page 44 of Under Your Scars

I think about it for a long time.Do I?Everyone wants to believe they exist. Everyone wants to believe that there’s someone out there that was always meant to love them.

“I think if two people are meant to be together, then they will be. I don’t know if that makes them soulmates though. I feel like a soulmate implies some sort of…divine intervention. I think the best love stories come from the people who say that love came out of nowhere for them, not from the people who were looking for love in the first place.” I squeeze his hand in mine. “Doyoubelieve in soulmates?”

The corner of his mouth tilts into a smile. “Not until I found you.”

CHAPTER 13

THE ANGEL

The past few days have been a fairytale and I don’t think I’ve ever been happier.

The sun is shining bright over the island, and I consider it a good omen. It’s never sunny in Meridian City, New Jersey.

The elevator opens to my shared office, and I raise my eyebrow when Christian is lounging in his chair, feet propped up on his desk with a cigarette in between his lips at 8:45 in the morning. He gives me that brilliant smile that makes me weak at the knees and I quietly set down my purse.

“What, no good morning kiss?” he purrs.

I narrow my eyes at him and take a seat in my office chair, propping my feet up on the desk just like him and lightly nip at my nail on my index finger. “Seems like your mouth is already preoccupied, Mr. Reeves.”

He blows out a long puff of smoke. “I’m a wonderful multitasker. Come here and I’ll show you.”

I roll my eyes. “I have work.”

“Your job is to sit there and look pretty, Elena.” He looks me up and down from his desk, his gaze predatory and dark. “You’re very good at it. Now come here.”

He puts the butt of his cigarette in an ashtray and takes his feet off the desk, sitting now like a king on a throne. I suppose he is, in a way. The King of Meridian City. The King of the East Coast. The King of the World.

I decide that I’m in a particularly mischievous mood. I push back from my desk and then slowly slide to the floor on my hands and knees. I watch his eyes turn hungry. He leans back into his chair with his arms behind his head and watches intently as I crawl to him, his only indication of approval the tent now in the front of his slacks.

“Seems like crawling is an activity beneath royalty such as yourself.”

I pause just inches away from his legs, sitting back on my heels. “Do you want me to stop?”

“Fuck no,” he growls back, his voice husky. “Crawl to me, Ellie.”

I cock my head slightly, and I hear him breathe out an ‘oh fuck’ as I bite my bottom lip. “Say please, Mr. Reeves.”

Christian reaches forward and shoves two fingers into my mouth, like he did that first time at the club, and pushes down on my tongue. His cheeks are flushed red with desire, and it’s something that makes me drenched every time—the way his face always gives away how needy he is. I wonder if he even knows he does it.

I let out a whine as he tugs me forward, until I’m directly in between his legs. “Elena, if you don’t stop fucking calling me that–”

I shake my mouth free from his grip and lick my lips. “What will you do?”

“Do you want to be punished? Is that why you’re being so goddamn mouthy today?” His hand grips my chin. His hold is firm and commanding, but far from painful. I tilt my chin down and suck his thumb into my mouth, and he groans. “Since you’re down there already, might as well make yourself useful, yeah?”

With blush-stained cheeks, I reach for his belt first and then his pants, popping open the button, tugging the zipper down, and freeing the full length of him from the fabric. It bobs invitingly in front of me, and the mere sight of it has my face flushed as red as Christian’s is. My eyes go to the thick vein prominent up the underside of his cock, and my mouth waters.

I glance up at Christian from under my lashes and his hand goes to my hair, grabbing a gentle fistful and tugging my mouth exactly where he wants me. I lick my lips and brace my hands on his thighs, and I keep eye contact with him as I lick up that throbbing vein, from base to tip, and then suck his angry, leaking head into my mouth. Christian throws his head back and lets out a satisfied grunt.

“This is a much better use of that pretty mouth of yours, Elena.”

The praise has me even more determined to take more of him. We’ve barely begun, and my jaw already aches. His eyes screw shut when I take in another two inches. I quietly moan as I pull back and then try to take more of him.

He can’t help himself. His hips buck forward and cause me to gag, but he holds my head firmly in place. My eyes begin to blur as tears prick in my eyes and I dig my fingernails into his thighs to try and brace myself as he begins to thrust into my mouth. He goes slow at first, telling me how pretty I am, telling me how perfect I am, and once my jaw relaxes, he gathers my hair and stands up to chase his pleasure, and I do my best to keep up with the relentless pace.

The room fills with filthy grunts and my desperate gasps for air. Saliva breaks free from the corner of my mouth, dripping down my chin and onto my chest, webbing sloppily between my mouth and the base of his cock.

I force myself to look up at the man before me, and I try to keep myself from going stupid at just how fucking godlike he appears above me. Here I am, on my knees for the richest man in the world, and I’m lucky enough to call him mine. His face is twisted into a beautiful piece of artwork, jaw slack, cheeks red, sweat gathering on his furrowed brow.