For the Taking ✅

60 • Gold

⚠️ This chapter is full of smut. If this isn't your thing please ignore lol. For all you smutty readers indulge and enjoy 🥰. It's been a long time coming. ⚠️

I kissed him, like I could kiss the years and years of pain he endured. I kissed him like my touch was healing, god I hoped it was. The hurt on the plains of his face twisted my insides. I wanted to take it away, make him feel safe and understood.

There was a time I would have hated myself for trying to understand him. He was rude, aloof, stubborn, and withdrawn when we first met each other. If someone months ago would have told me I'd be willing to sit down and understand him as a person I would have laughed in their face, but now- now it just felt like the least I could do for him.

I didn't think anyone truly stopped understand who Siris was. I don't think anyone, or very few, have tried to see Siris as a person with a wretched past that left him a shell of a person.

So when I moved to pull away he followed the motion with me, effortlessly placing his wine glass on the floor while wrapping his arms around my waist and up my back. His touch was needy as his fingers traced the edge of my bra. Though his hands were massive against my body in comparison they were gentle tracing a line against the straps and my hot skin.

My back arched against the arm of the sofa his lips hungrily pressing wet kisses from the corner of my mouth down across my jaw and further down my neck.

Siris's hands moved to my waist and I couldn't tell if it was the wine that was giving me confidence or the bond that burned inside my vines. It was as if the bond caressed my mind, it coaxed the tension from my muscles, allowing me to just be in the moment. Be with him.

I allowed myself to accept this new found part of my being, that I was both frightened by and avid on discovering. So I let myself go and I eagerly began to explore his body for the first time, without guilt, and without shame.

I took my time savoring the feeling of his skin again my soft fingertips. One of my hands dug into his hair as the other found its way beneath his shirt. Solid muscle flexed against my touch, a reflex no doubt, from the brush of my fingers.

Arousal surged from my core to my head. Something about that flicker of involuntary movement made my mind burst with confidence.

I was doing this to him. I was making him shutter at my every touch.

My hands moved on their own volition, tangling my finger between his strands and tenderly pulled his head back. His lips lifted free from my collarbone where he was dazzling electric kisses against my burning skin.

His eyes connected to mine instantly and his expression threw me off. I was expecting longing, desire, or excitement, or even a man drugged up on lust, but that's not what I saw. His eyes gazed at me, they were wide as they scanned me over.

"Are you-"

"I'm alright." I murmured pained at the worry on his face.

He moved to back away from me, offering me space he thought I needed now. I could see the turmoil swirling around in his eyes. He felt guilty. "I-I'm sorry, after what- I shouldn't ha-"

I kissed his lips again pressing myself against his body until we were falling into the cushions of the couch. I knew what he was about to say and I didn't care to hear it, not right now, and if I had anything to do with it, not ever again.

If I could wiped my memory I would. I never wanted to remember what had happened to me, what was forced on to me, what was taken from me. Never again.

His felt massive beneath me and frankly comical in comparison to the couch. His one shoulder hung over the edge, how he kept from sliding off was beyond me.