That Sik Luv

Briony

The Devil’s Doll.

They used to call me that.

My parents, behind closed doors, in wisps of whispers that echoed throughout our family home.

My porcelain-white skin that never held the same pigment as theirs. The deceivingly stark black hair that stood out in our family photos like an inkblot. The dark stain of condemnation.

After his revelation, Aero wasted no time getting us into the shower. He stripped me of my ripped and ragged clothes, tossing them into the pile alongside his.

As we stand beneath the water, I study his naked torso, noting the sizable upside-down crucifix along one of his ribs. It reminds me of the ring he wore or a similar design. Aero is most certainly against all pillars of organized religion. He shows it in his actions, but professes it with his sharp tongue. My eyes trail further down the divots of his hard, toned abdomen and further still, following the light trail of dark hair that leads to the large exposed organ hanging between his legs. The glistening of the barbell piercing at the tip causes my chest to flutter and my thighs to quiver in remembrance.

As he does, he washes me beneath the comfortingly warm water. The hands that were roughly gripping my hair out in the woods are now weaving through mine, lathering up every crevice with a delicious, rich vanilla soap as he stands before me.

His touch suddenly stalls as his striking gaze peers down at mine while water from the rain-style showers pours over our naked bodies. Fingertips brush up along my rib cage until hands mold over my breasts. His eyes darken as his digits roll over my pebbled nipples, the sensation causing my lower abdomen to tighten in response.

My eyes suddenly fixate on the way his erection grows before me. Bobbing between us, he’s quickly hardened again, shameless in his inevitable attraction. He washes himself with the soap, covering every inch, but I grab his forearm, stopping the motion when he finally reaches his chest.

His brows furrow as his frown sets in place. I pull his hands from his chest, replacing them with mine. Slowly running my sudsy hands up his broad pecs, I graze his collarbones, gliding up to his neck leisurely, but with intent.

He takes a step back, roughly pushing my hands away until they drop between us. Turning, he quickly shuts off the water and, in the blink of an eye, leaves the shower entirely.

He’s uncomfortable with any form of gentle contact. Any embrace that deems him loveable literally scalds his skin like acid.

Returning a second later with a towel draped low on his hips and another in his arms, he reaches a hand in for mine to help me out of the stone shower. I brush past him, walking naked and dripping wet into his bathroom in search of my own towel.

I’m affected by it. He freely touches me at his will, however, and whenever he wants. I’m his doll, as he says, and yet he still remains a world away from me. Yes, this may be new for him, but it’s new to me, too. I’ve opened myself to him, to his way of thinking. I’ve submitted to him entirely, putting faith and trust in a man I didn’t know, and yet he still feels he can’t do the same with me.

Finding a towel in a cabinet, I drape it around my body before finding another to dry my hair.

“You’re upset with me,” he declares against my shoulder, making me jump.

I didn’t even hear him approach me. Lost in my thoughts, I suppose.

“I’m not mad, I’m just…” I sigh, not knowing how to justify any of my feelings at this point. “I don’t know what I am.”

I want to be upset, but I have no idea what this man has been through to make him the way he is. My empathy outweighs my need for more, knowing he’s already broken down walls he’s never broken in his life for me. He’s exposed the truth of who he is, and that alone is a lot. But not only that, he has blood on his hands. For me.

His fingers travel up along the edge of my shoulder, making the hair raise, awakening my flesh, until they wrap around the back of my neck. I hear him inhale my scent near my ear as he presses himself against me and his grip tightens.

“I don’t do well with gentle hands on me,” he says firmly.

“I’ve gathered,” I say under my breath, rolling my eyes before breaking away from him.

I run my fingers through my hair in the mirror, trying to comb out the tangles, when he slams a brush down on the counter, making me jump.

I swallow, reluctantly taking it from him to finish brushing. He wasn’t kidding when he told me everything I’d need was already here. He has it all. A toothbrush for me, brushes, robes, clothes, shoes…everything in my size. My eyes trail back up to my reflection, and I see his unfortunately handsome glare set behind me as I finish.

I set the brush back down when he crowds me again, his front sealing to my back, hard eyes staring at my reflection, direct enough to shatter glass.

“You have no idea what the fuck I’ve been through,” he growls against my ear. “So roll your eyes at me again, Briony,” he urges, his nostrils flaring.

My eyes pinch in the corners at his threatening behavior.

I send an elbow into his ribs behind me, pushing him off my back. He pushes against me harder, but I spin, shoving him in the chest again to distance us. He looks to the floor as his wet hair hangs before those dark eyes, then back up at me. His brow cocks in defiance as he takes a step towards me again.

“You’re right,” I say suddenly, causing him to stop in place. “I don’t. I don’t have a fucking clue what you’ve been through, and yet you seem to know my story entirely. Isn’t that right?”

He stares at me with hatred behind his gaze. There’s so much on his mind he won’t reveal.

I glare back at him. When he doesn’t answer, I continue, “You sabotage me, expose me, threaten me, force me to turn my back on my religion and everything I’ve ever known, simply to force me to rely on you and you alone. But what makes you think you had to do all that just to gain my trust? Would the truth not have sufficed? Am I that much of a lost little sheep to you? Am I too ignorant to accept the disgusting facts I’ve seen? That ignorant to need further explanation and reasoning before I can see the light, as you say?”

He doesn’t answer, just absorbs my words intently.

“You think I’m an idiot,” I say matter-of-factly, my face burning with anger.

He takes a step forward. “I know you’re—“

I slap him across the face before he can finish, striking the words from his mouth with a burning palm. His face snaps to the side, his hair dancing over his eyes, before his tongue runs along his teeth. His lips pull into that handsome, wolfish grin as his dangerously narrowed eyes turn to find mine.

“I may not know what you’ve been through, Aero,” I begin, with venom on my tongue. “I don’t know the first thing about your past, but you know nothing of my future. So let’s not pretend we know each other.”

He tilts his head back, eyeing me curiously. I can feel his thoughts dancing around dangerously in his mind. His lip twitches and I watch as he holds himself back from whatever he instinctually wants to say or do. I brush past him, cautious about his retaliation, but it doesn’t come. He actually lets me walk away from him, and it feels damn good.

Searching the hallways, I find a dark open room with a king-sized bed and walk inside, shutting the door before locking it behind me. Dropping the towel, I crawl beneath the bedsheets that were clearly placed here for me.

The colors resemble my bedroom at home, and there is even a vase of budded roses on the nightstand. He knew he’d be bringing me here at some point. He’d envisioned me sleeping here, just like he knew the bishop was going to kill me, just as he knew Jacob would try to harm me, just as he knew they would sabotage my ceremony.

I curl onto my side beneath the soft pillow-top comforter, and before I can even attempt to rein them in, the tears fall like rain. I cry until I’m a sobbing mess. I cry for a life that I no longer know. A past that’s been wasted and a future now unknown.

I cry until my eyes are so heavy that sleep cradles me with the comforting embrace I seek.

A soft groan vibrates against me. My eyes flutter open, and I forget where I am. It’s still dark outside, even with the heavy drapes hanging over the room’s floor-to-ceiling window. I’m at Aero’s home.

I hear another groan from behind me, causing my heart rate to spike.

I’m not alone.

I roll over to face him sleeping beside me. Of course he got in here. Why this place even has locks is beyond me. He must’ve crawled in alongside me once I fell asleep.

It surprises me, his need to sleep next to me when I know his hatred of intimacy.

Another soft groan leaves his soft, pouty lips, and he shakes his head quickly, causing his inky hair to toss over his eyes. He’s clearly in the middle of some sort of dream. I readjust myself on my side to face him; the moonlight slipping through the drapes just enough to see the outline of his face again.

He’s disturbingly handsome. Those dark eyebrows, the one carved with the scar directly through it, those long thick lashes that rest, fluttering along his upper cheek, the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw, and the scarred lip I find myself wanting to kiss.

He’s not big on kissing, but the reminder of him telling me to suck his tongue gives me that same tightening in my belly.

Without a second thought, the urge to touch him in some capacity comes over me. I brush the backs of my fingers against his cheek, trailing the scar there that somehow makes him even more beautiful and raw. His bare chest expands before a deep sigh leaves him. See? My touch calms you. You just haven’t figured that out yet.

In a split second, the energy in the room shifts entirely. Hands circle my throat as Aero’s eyes snap open. I’m thrown onto my back, the weight of his body between my legs pressing me deep between the pillows. I scream against his hold until it’s nothing but a dry, cracked cry. Slapping his forearms, his dark, deathly stare pins me in place as his firm grip takes away my ability to breathe. There’s no life behind his eyes. Only a pure, calculated killing machine. He’s dreaming, and he’s going to kill me.

His eyes trail from my face down to his hands, and then down to my naked body, fighting back beneath him, clawing at his corded forearms. I dig my nails into his flesh, trying to break him from this trance.

The feeling of absolute fear is replaced with pain when I feel the crown of his firm cock pushing roughly against my opening as he makes his way between my thighs. He fills me immediately, and my eyes close tightly, watering, as my body accepts him with friction.

He sighs as he tries to collect his breath. As if he finally realizes where he is and what he’s doing, his grip loosens on my neck and his face, once filled with passionate hatred, shifts into one of dark lust.

He rocks his hips into mine, slowly pulling out just to thrust into me harder in the next breath, until he’s fucking me wildly. His earlier groans, resembling pain and discomfort, turn into groans and gasps of pleasure that claw their way from his throat.

“You’re wrong,” he says breathlessly, the scent of whisky on his tongue as our bodies slap roughly together. “You’re so wrong, Briony.”

His words make little sense to me. As does this tightening in the pit of my stomach from another pending orgasm making its way out of my body. This is what he does. He coaxes out my pleasure, my pain, my confusion. My reality.

He keeps one hand around my throat, his strong grip cutting off my air supply as I see the rippling, defined muscles in his abdomen flex with each roll of his hips into mine. My body does what he says it would, and I feel wetness seep out of me and around him, allowing his thick cock to slide in and out of my dripping center with ease.

“Aero…please. I can’t…” I choke out my words, breathless as my vision clouds and I feel myself falling into the light-headed feeling of passing out.

My body tightens as he stares down at me, the long, fast strokes of his thick cock tearing through me relentlessly as I feel the euphoric wave strike through me like a shocking current.

I scream a throaty, soundless cry as my body is literally taken to another place. Another realm. A place where the most intense pleasure is given only by handing your life willingly over to another.

His grip releases and I gasp for air. He loses himself inside me, only to pull out, stroke his length, and coat my chest and abdomen with wet, warm ropes of cum. Panting, he pushes himself back into me again, laying on top of my naked body. His forearms circle my head, and a strange new look finds me beneath the dark light of the room.

“I’ve never thought you were anything less than what I know you to be,” he declares, short of breath, a passion in his direct stare that has me holding my breath. “You are the fire that burns stagnant, the coals and ash yearning for the chance to ignite, ready to burn cities to the ground in your fierceness. A force more powerful than any man that came before you. You are my fucking existence, Briony. I live and breathe for you alone. I am yours eternally, entirely at your mercy.”

I stare back at him, my lips parted and my choppy breaths meeting his in the space between us, before he leans forward, capturing my lips in the most mind-bending, erotic, and forceful kiss. A kiss that connects us more than the act of sex alone ever could. A kiss that tethers my wildly beating heart to the lifeless one residing in him.

He’s always known, beneath the surface of the religion I professed, that there was a woman whose thoughts ran wild. A mind that outdated codes and morals couldn’t detain. A woman who sought truths along with realism and unfiltered revelation.

A woman who was ready for the war on the brink of her horizon.