Page 83 of Requiem
My hands tightens on his shoulders.
His head tilts, his lips pressing against mine so gently that it makes my chest hurt. And when he finally deepens the kiss, it’s like something inside him exhales, and the sound he makes ignites the wildfire in my blood. It’s almost a whimper.
I feel it then.
The moment when the old programming tries to claw its way back up.His shoulders instinctively tense hard beneath my hands, and his breath stutters. For half a second, I think he might break away. But he doesn’t. Instead, he forces it down, his tongue sliding over mine. And there’s something so wild about the fact that he can’t even touch me. He’s just sitting beneath my body, his own, rigid and fighting for control.
“Tell me if you need me to stop,” I whisper against his lips.
“Don’t stop, Emma,” he pants. “Don’t ever fucking stop.”
So I don’t. I kiss him deeper, my hips moving on their own, grinding into the hardness that’s pressing against me. And a small whimper leaves me when I feel him grind back, our breaths heavy between kisses.
When we finally separate, it isn’t sudden like before, when he ripped himself away from me. It’s slow, reluctant, like neither of uswantsto stop. His forehead rests on my cheek for a moment, his breathing strained, still fighting something that no longer has full control over him.
When he finally pulls back just enough to look at me properly, his eyes don’t drop this time. They stay. Locked right on mine. My eyes burn with the realization that he’s choosing, again and again, not to let the darkness take him. And in that victory, I kiss him again, harder this time. I don’t care if they can see us on those monitors outside, becauseI cannot stop.
“Em,” he rasps into my mouth. “Wait.”
I pause, pulling away to look at him. As his eyes connect with mine again, I feel his shoulders tense.
“For months, he’s hurt me for looking at your beautiful face,” he whispers, my heart clenching at the vulnerability in his voice. “So give me pleasure instead. While I look at you.”
I swallow hard, realizing exactly what he’s asking of me. The thought alone sends a sharp, liquid heat straight to my core. “Are you sure?” My voice is a breathless sound. “I don’t want to…I don’t want to push too far.”
His gaze searches my face, even as a tremor runs through his shoulders. His hazel eyes are dark, pupils blown with a need that seems to terrify him as much as it consumes him.“Please.”The word is ragged. “I need this. I need…you.”
I swallow a sob. I missed his gentle soul from the moment he left me on my front porch years ago. He’s far too kind and pure to have gone through anything he’s been put through. I nod, and only then do I realize my hands are trembling where they rest on his shoulders. I can feel the solid muscle beneath his shirt, the heat of his skin bleeding through the cotton. I close my eyes for a moment, truly enjoying the warmth I’ve missed so much.
Slowly, I ease off his lap, my knees feeling weak. My eyes flick once, instinctively, to the small, dark lens of the camera in the corner. He’s watching me, his breathing shallow. I remember how gentle he was with me for my first time years ago. He took it slow and checked in with me with every movement. He ensured I wassafe.
My turn.
I reach for the hem of my shirt, pulling it over my head in one slow motion. The air is cool on my skin. His gaze scorches a path from my collarbones down to the waistband of my jeans. I unfasten them, push them down my hips, stepping out of them until I’m standing before him in nothing but my underwear.
His jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek.
I hook my thumbs in the lace of my panties and slide them down, letting them pool at my feet. I am completely bare for him. His eyes sweep over my naked body—the curve of my waist, the swell of my breasts. He just stares, his chest rising and falling with control.
My trembling fingers go to the buttons of his jeans. He just watches my face as I work the first button free, then the next, until I can ease the fly open. I slip my hand inside, and he sucks in a sharp breath.
I wrap my fingers around him, freeing him. He’s thick and heavy in my hand, and a possessive thrill shoots through me.
He’s mine. He’s always been mine.
“On your knees.”
I still, the order sending a jolt through my system. But I do what he says, and sink down before him.
“Look at me,” he demands, his voice strained.
I lift my eyes to his. The conflict there is evident. There’s panic, need, self-loathing, and love. It’s all swirling in the hazel depths. He’s holding onto his control by a thread.
I don’t give him time to overthink it. I lean forward, my lips parting, and take him into my mouth with a slow, deliberate glide of my tongue.
“Fuck—”The word is a ragged gasp. His entire body jerks.
I hollow my cheeks, sucking as I draw back, then sink down again, taking him deeper. A broken groan falls from his lips, his head kicking back, exposing the long, beautiful line of his neck.
