Page 32 of Beautiful Disaster

“Yes.”

“Why? Because you haven’t had sex in a long time?”

I chuckle. “If only. That’s part of it. Mostly, I don’t want to hurt you. Not physically, but mentally and emotionally.”

“You might.”

I suck in a gasp at his brutal truth. He doesn’t placate me at all. “I’m aware.”

“But I might hurt you, too. Not that I want that.”

“You might,” I mimic. “I’m prepared.”

I press my lips to his, and our tongues dance in each other’s mouths. He relinquishes control of the bedding and reaches for my face, deepening our kiss. My cock grows solid and heavy.

I drag my hand down his smooth body and cup his swollen cock. When he thrusts into my hand, I wrap my fingers around his length and give it a few gentle tugs. It’s as smooth as the rest of him.

His eyes close as I stroke him and press kisses to his cheek and throat. I move down and bite one of his nipples delicately, then I suck it, pulling a groan from him.

I’m giving him softness and tenderness, letting him experience pleasure without fear.

One of his hands is back to gripping the sheets, the other is clinging to my hair.

“Have you ever been kissed by a man, my pet?”

His eyes blink open to a dark sea of blue. “Once… he did. Phillip. But I like your kisses more. I like your scruff against my face. You’re a much better kisser.”

“I’m asking because while we’re together, as you reclaim your body and power, having firsts will help.”

He nods and closes his eyes again as I work my way down his body, pressing kisses here and there, then run my tongue through his navel. “Can I kiss your scar?”

“Uhm… yeah. Sure.”

Instead of double-checking, I choose to trust that he’s being honest.

The scars are appalling. They’ll always remind him of what he’s gone through. He can heal his mind, but his body will always be marked by his past. Every time he looks in a mirror, his body will never let him forget. By kissing them, I’m hoping to change the way he views them.

“Your scars are about survival, Jinx. You lived. You learned. You’re here, free from pain,” I whisper between each kiss on the long laceration. “I won’t say they’re beautiful because they represent abuse, but they also represent life. He couldn’t kill you. Now, they represent freedom from that abuse. You’re a survivor. You’re strong.”

As I kiss him, I keep watch on him. His eyes are closed, but his mouth trembles slightly.

“Just… just fuck me already.”

There’s that defiance and fight against heavy feelings.

“No. I’m going to take my time and love on you. Worship you. You’re so beautiful, my pet.”

“I’m not! Just… shut up. Stop it.”

I don’t take his biting words personally. I understand the root of his anger. But it’s a good reminder that being with him won’t always be easy. His girlfriends were too young and immature to see his true nature and inner strength. This is where the gift of age comes in.

Once I’ve reached his hips and pelvis, I kiss both sides. His cock is still solid and leaking sticky pre-cum on his abs.

I swallow him down to the root. He gasps and thrusts hard, touching the back of my throat. I breathe through the gag. His hands rush to my hair, tugging hard, and he thrusts again, but I’m ready, steadying him with my hand on his stomach.

I lick along the underside of his length and swipe my tongue over the cockhead, savoring his bitter pre-cum. His stomach rises and falls rapidly from his panting. I wonder if he even realizes he’s making these cute little noises.

“Fuck, you’re good at this…” he rasps.