Page 23 of Scorched Veil
“What are you doing?” I gasp.
“Marking my name on your skin with my cum,” he says matter-of-factly as if this is normal, not psychotic.
He writes his name K-A-I-R-O in thick, deliberate strokes. The letters are messy and obscene against my skin, glistening in the morning light. He takes his time, coating his fingers again when he needs more, spreading the warm, sticky fluid across my belly like a signature.
“Mine,” he murmurs, almost to himself, tracing the last letter with his fingertip. His voice is low, rough, and satisfied.
I lie there, chest heaving, watching him mark me like it’s the most natural thing in the world. The sight is filthy, degrading, and yet my body clenches at the possessiveness of it. He leansdown and presses a slow, open-mouthed kiss right over his name, tasting himself on my skin.
“Perfect,” he whispers against my stomach, voice rough with lust.
He gathers more of his cum from where it’s leaking out of me, scooping it up with two fingers. His eyes are dark and hungry as he brings them to my mouth.
“Open.”
I part my lips, and he slowly traces his cum across them like gloss, painting my mouth with the warm, sticky evidence of what he just did to me, then he pushes his fingers between my lips.
“Suck,” he orders softly.
I do, and I taste us together, salty, musky, slightly sweet. He watches my tongue swirl around his fingers with intense focus, breathing heavier.
“Fuck, Summer … taste that?” His voice is low and filthy. “That’s how good we taste when I fill you up.”
He slides his fingers deeper, fucking my mouth slowly while I suck them clean. When he pulls them out, a thin string of saliva and cum connects my lips to his fingertips. He groans at the sight.
He scoops more cum from between my legs and drags it up my body, circling my nipples until they’re shiny and coated. Then he leans down and licks them clean, slow, measured strokes of his tongue, sucking each nipple into his mouth until I’m arching and whimpering. He does this again and again, gathering his release and painting different parts of my body just to lick it off me. My stomach and my tits, then the hollow of my throat. Every time he tastes us together, he makes a low, satisfied sound like he can’t get enough.
Finally, he moves lower as he pushes my thighs wide open and buries his face between my legs again. His tongue is greedy,licking and sucking his own cum out of my pussy with long, filthy strokes.
“Look at you,” he murmurs against my soaked folds. “So full of me. Such a good little wife, letting me mark you inside and out.”
He eats me like he’s starving, licking deep, sucking gently on my clit, cleaning every trace of his cum from me while I shake and moan above him. When he’s satisfied, he crawls back up my body, his cock hard again and leaking. He pushes inside me in one smooth, deep thrust.
This time, he fucks me slowly and possessively, eyes locked on mine as he fills me up again.
“Gonna keep you like this,” he rasps, grinding deep. “Full of me. Marked by me. Mine.”
Breakfast is on the terrace,there’s fruit, eggs, bacon, coffee, and the ocean glittering beyond the pool. He sits across from me in a white T-shirt and shorts, barefoot, hair still messy from bed. He looks almost normal.
"I'm all yours today," he says over his coffee. "No work. No calls. Whatever you want."
I’m stunned. "Whatever I want?" I ask, excitement hitting me.
"Within reason." The corner of his mouth lifts. "Don't ask to leave the island."
Dammit. "Can we go into town? You said there's a town."
"There's a village, it’s small, but yes."
I can’t believe he said yes. “I’d love to see it. Maybe do some shopping. Walk around and try some local food.”
He studies me for a moment and nods. "Get dressed, I’ll organize it. Wear something comfortable and bring your bikini, too. I have an idea.”
Kairo seems excited about the idea. I don’t care what it is as long as I am out of this house.
He drivesus in an open jeep down a road I haven't seen before, through the jungle, past the gates, along the coast. The guards wave us through without a word. The village is small with brightly painted buildings along a harbor. Fishing boats bob in the shallows, and a market with stalls sells fruit, fabric, and handmade jewelry. People look at us but don't stare. They know him here, I can tell by the way vendors nod and people step aside. Not in fear exactly, maybe respect mixed with I don’t know.
He buys me things without asking, a bracelet made from sea glass. A bag of mangoes so ripe they're almost bursting. A scarf the color of the ocean that he wraps around my shoulders and steps back to look at, tilting his head like he's framing a photograph. I catch myself smiling. I also catch myself reaching for his hand without thinking. I pull back as I’m not sure we are there, but he notices, and a look crosses his face before he grabs my hand and entwines our fingers together.
