I find it hard to sleep after hearing about Magnus. It sucks that a name has been attached to that monster. That man wasn’t a father. He was an abuser who got what he deserved from The Council. I’m actually thankful that they got Caz out of that situation, and glad they fulfilled some kind of purpose.
After telling that story about his biological father, Caz sleeps soundlessly next to me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him sleep, but we’re on Earth, where there are no red or black tablets to swallow to fight it. It’s as if rehashing those awful memories and talking about them lifted some of the weight on his shoulders.
With all this talk about family, I’m left wondering about my own. I feel like I’m further away from figuring out where Warren is. Is he still alive? Has Decius gotten to him? God, I hope not. I miss my brother and I swear after we figure out how to deal with Decius, I’m going to find out where Warren is…dead or alive..
I let the thoughts of my brother drift for now and sit up with my knees to my chest, watching as Caz rests on his back, one hand on his bare chest, the other tucked behind his head. He breathes evenly, and I can’t help thinking how beautiful he is. His lips are full and pouty, the sharp angles of his face and nose god-like. His dark lashes caress his upper cheekbone like gentle raven feathers. I see why his mother called him her raven-haired boy.
My eyes fall to his upper body, and I study the scars on his chest. They’re all over him, marks from men who tormented and abused him. It’s no wonder he’s the way that he is. He was taken from his mother and forced into a life he never wanted. I sense he was a carefree child at one point, happy and full of wonder and light, and then it was all snatched away. He was tossed into darkness, left with no option but to drown in it, or in his case, learn to swim the treacherous waters in order to survive. That’s my Caz. A survivor.
I drop my legs and trace the pads of my fingers over his scars. I start at the top of his chest, near his collarbone. This scar is jagged and raised, like a knife wound. I rub it gently, as if that’ll take away whatever pain he endured, then carry my fingers down to the center of his chest. There’s a large wound here, round and slightly raised, probably from a bullet. I don’t know why I have the urge to kiss it, but I lean forward, placing my lips on it. Then I move to the next scar, right above his ribcage.
Caz exhales, and one of his hands comes to my head. He buries his fingers in my hair, and I look up to find his hooded eyes on mine.
I push to my knees and climb between his legs, continuing the kisses, laying them thick on each scar, and he makes a throaty noise. I work my way down until I’m at his pelvis, kissing him there. When I look up again, his eyes are wider, glinting from the moonlight. I pull the hem of his boxers down, freeing his dick.
“Willow,” he whispers.
“Is this okay?”
His face softens, and eventually, he nods. “Yes.”
I slide the boxers lower down his hips, then take him into my hands. He’s already semi-hard, and he tenses as I wrap my fingers around him. He has a beautiful dick, thick at the tip, with a girthy shaft. My mouth aches for him, so I part my lips and take him in, and all the tension melts from his body.
The noise he had trapped in his throat comes out in a guttural groan. I take him deeper, and he sits up on his elbows, watching me with tired fascination and heated lust. I hold his gaze, and his lips part as I swirl my tongue around the head of his dick. He brings a hand down to my head, pushing some of my locs back and caressing my ear with his thumb. One side of my face is cradled in his palm, the tips of his other fingers pressing to the nape of my neck, and I take him deeper, deeper, and he moans. Pulling back up, I lap my tongue around his tip, then slide it down to his balls. I suck each one gently, lick them, lap them up, and he throws his head back on the pillow as if it’s the best thing he’s ever felt in his life.
“Fuck, Willow. That’s good. You’re so good.”
Before I can drag my lips back up to wrap around him, he grabs a handful of my hair and tugs it lightly to stop me.
“On top,” he commands, and I don’t hesitate to climb up his firm body as he rests his head against the headboard. I take off my shorts and panties, then squat above his hard dick as he grips the base of it.
I sink down on him slowly, and with each inch, his mouth parts wider. I hold his attention, pleasure pumping through me as he fills me slowly. When he’s all in, a hiss slips between his clenched teeth, and he cups my ass in his hands.
“Ride me.” The words come out in a hurry, heated and quick.
I rock my hips forward and backward, and he sinks his perfect teeth into his bottom lip while his hands skim up my waist. He drives his hips upward as I ride him, and I feel all of him.
I lean forward to kiss him, coaxing his mouth open so our tongues collide. He buries his fingers into my waist as I rock my hips, and his grip sparks a painful pleasure. I want him to hold me like this every time he’s inside me, just so I know he’s there. Just so I can feel him.
He sits upward, bringing himself chest to chest with me. His hands slide beneath my ribcage, gripping me as I work my hips in slow loops.
“You’re so sexy,” he rasps. “I love seeing you like this, on top of me.”
I keep riding, keep kissing, and when it becomes too much for me to bear, I gasp and bite my bottom lip, draping my arms around his shoulders.
“Look at me,” he whispers, and I do. “I want to watch you come.”
His voice. It’s always his voice that gets me, so deep and orgasmic. The fact that he’s just woken up only enhances it. The sound of it is so raw and primal. I moan, and I swear he feels bigger inside me. He cups my ass again, shifting his hips upward to propel himself deeper, and it’s more than enough to make me shatter.
“Oh, Caz!” I moan. “Shit, I’m coming!”
“Mmm. I feel it. Talk to me,” he rasps. “Tell me how it feels.”
“It feels so good,” I pant. “You feel so good inside me.” I drop my forehead to his, rocking my hips, breathing faster.
“I could spend all night inside you,” he murmurs. “I’m so hard right now after watching you suck and fuck me.”
My hips don’t stop. It’s his voice pushing me to the climax again.
“I’ll come inside you like this if we don’t switch positions,” he warns.
I smile. “I’m protected.” Fortunately, from the shot.
“Very well.” He keeps one hand on my waist, the other wrapping around the back of my neck, and as we look at each other, eyes locked and unwavering, he holds me close and releases a guttural groan.
“Oi, Willow. Do you feel that?” he rasps. “Only you can make me come like this.”
I rock my hips gently, letting him finish, and he groans as I drop my mouth to his, kissing him once, twice, three times.
When the kiss breaks, his blue eyes find mine again, and he cups my face in his hands. He watches my eyes, studies them, then focuses on my lips.
“You’re a literal dream come true,” he breathes.
“As are you.” I smile, and he flips me onto my back, kissing me deeply, still inside me, soft and warm. When he pulls out, he rests his head on my chest, and we breathe in sync.
After several minutes of peaceful silence, he says, “I think I’ve fallen in love with you.”
His words instantly bring tears to my eyes. I blink them away, stroking his hair, his soft cheek, and then his upper back.
“I’m in love with you too,” I whisper.
Another silence, only for a few seconds.
“You fought your attraction to me so hard.” I laugh as he looks up at me.
A smirk claims his lips. “I didn’t think I deserved it.”
“But you do now, right?”
He plants a kiss on my collarbone. “I do. There’s no doubt in my mind that you’re mine.”
He sits up just enough to claim my lips, hardening again as he rocks himself against me. The ridge of his dick rocks between the lips of my pussy, gently grazing my clit and sending a hot wave of pleasure through me.
When he’s fully hard, he thrusts into me, and his mouth descends to the crook of my neck as he levels his breathing. As he thrusts again, he murmurs, “You’re everything I need, Willow.”
