A Kiss of Bleeding Fire

24

GARRETT STAYED with me the whole night. We talked about random stuff. I asked him some personal questions I was afraid to ask— most likely his favorites. I never asked about the tattoos. The cut in my chest was still fresh and I could still feel the pain scraping through my bones. 

As usual, he spooned me when we slept. I tried distancing myself from him by facing away from him and getting myself at the side of the bed. But Garrett moved toward me and carefully spooned me with his warmth. White-hot sadness and longing coiled around my chest and I had to severely bite the bottom of my lips to stop the sob from slipping out of my mouth.

Would there be a time that I could speak to him about what lurked in my head? About the questions I feared to ask because the truth might ruin me beyond repair? But the thoughts I bottled up in my chest were slowly festering me and I was slowly losing my grasp on my sanity.

I woke up the next day with him eating me out. Garrett made it his hobby to wake me up with him between my legs, lapping and sucking me dry until I cried out his name to the point that it felt like losing my voice.

Just like today, the morning light filtered through the window, giving some faint yellow glow throughout the room as Garrett was busy sucking my clit. Soft moan rippled into sensual succession as I tugged on his hair.

My core pulsed as my body shivered from the threat of orgasm. I closed my eyes as I moaned his name. Garrett growled as he lapped and fucked me with his tongue and fingers and then stars exploded behind my eyes. My body spasmed as the earth-shattering release extracted from my body.

"G-Garrett . . ."

"Your cunt is so fucking sweet, my little fire," he sucked every drop of juice I released, "It is my cunt, isn't it? Who owned this cunt, my little fire?"

I chewed the bottom of my lips as I pushed his head against my throbbing folds. He growled as he lapped my juices and my arousal just heightened even though I just released minutes ago. Looking at the moisture around his mouth as he devoured me dry was eliciting something monstrous inside of me— something so wanton and twisted.

"Who owns this cunt, Lilith?" His authoritative voice was laced with demanding undertones. Something twisted and dark coiled around my throat, spreading through my chest.

"Y-you, G-garrett. You own my cunt," My lips quivered as he pushed three fingers into my pussy.

"I own this cunt and no one can have this aside from me, are we clear?" He mumbled as he busied himself burying his mouth in my folds.

"Y-yes, Garrett . . ."

Fuck it. Last night, I was feeling sad and on the verge of breaking down because of this man, and now I was moaning his name as he fucked me using his tongue and fingers. I was so twisted and fucked.

His fingers fucked me with dexterity as I came undone around them. My moan muffled and Garrett mounted and captured my lips with his. I tasted my essence from his mouth and a wanton part of me basked in the taste of me in his. Finding pleasure from it as his fingers continuously fucked me with merciless pumps.

💠💠💠

Something had shifted after that day. After I learned that the meaning of that tattoo was the name of my sister, something changed. Weeks had passed and my pregnant stomach was so large I could barely see my feet.

Every time he fucked me, hard and raw, I could not help myself but look at the tattoo. Despite how I chastised myself to stop doing that, to stop torturing myself by looking at it as he slammed himself into me as his goin slapped my skin painfully but deliciously. Was I a masochist? I didn't know but the mere fact that he fucked me as the tattooed skin slapped against mine was enough to make me feel the rusted spear pierced through my chest.