warning: this chapter is 30 pages of, you guessed it, sex.
from this moment onwards, there are going to be more sex scenes.
I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR ANYTHING, SO DON'T BLAME ME.
I want to dedicate this chapter to my brown readers (upon request) who have hysterical crushes on this fine white man.
apparently derek is a win for women of colour.
but just wait till you meet tanner and luke's lovers ;)
enjoy
🌺
Derek
A man born into entitlement, birth rights, and privileges must have his phone on, regardless of how vital a circumstance is. Aunt Marlene and Luke have the rectitude to call me in the night, enlightening a list of duties that must be ticked off before the slit of sunrise.
Tonight, I do not give a fuck about the possible blockages. Unforgettable significances require me to have my phone switched off, to shut out the melodies of the birds and the city and luxuriate in her melodies. Tonight, I am embodying the quashed selfishness. No one is permitted to enter the 70th floor and above of the Industry Tower. I have given my Security three days off.
In the caliginous dome, I reverse the incarnation of belle and adroitness to the dense doors, my arms encircling her slim waist and ensuring the lock is sealed. It is spellbinding how she shudders as I close in on her, detecting the pupils of her warm irises diluting and constricting in anticipation. Instinctively, her arms laze on my half-stark chest, her fingertips skimming the undersides of my chiselled collarbone. She bevels on her toes for the hundredth kiss of the night — the night that confirms our relationship. Our passion. Our love. This creature keening to relent.
We kissed gradually, cossetting the present for as long as we could, the connection persisting to be as tranquil as the starred nirvana. My right-hand pilgrimages the bow of her ass, the bow of her spine, and hold her neck, wedging her into the metallic entrance. She cups my left cheek in her supple palm, the pad of her thumb soothing that forsaken, traumatic lash that almost blinded me. Permanently. Begun at the low tip of my left eye, to the left corner of my bruised mouth.
I have always believed that scar horrified me. If I look in the mirror, it is one feature I hate about myself. It made me look gnarly to appreciate. Wherever I go, in events, people seem to rumour and gossip about it. Frightened. Pitiful. Sympathetic.
April loves it. She falls in love with it. Why? How? Does it do something to her? Is that treacherous blemish truly enchanting?
She abrades the gentle kisses into French ones, inducing my deep-rooted resound of amusement. I laterally cant her head, accessing a slope and gifting bites and pecks that swiftens her painful pulse. Discovering that sensitive spot directly behind her ear, she back twitches at the ticklish splash, and I smirk against her skin.
"If I do something that you do not like—" I rub her clothed back. This dress has to come off. Black is my favourite colour, and she is the exact reason why. In that bright-red lipstick, mascara lashes, and feline eyeliner, she frightens femme fatale, looking as if the world works in her favour as if her God works in her favour. Her God should. He is not supposedly God if He does not. "—do slap me. Kill me."
She sigh-giggles as I gather that sensitive spot between my teeth once more.
"I am serious," I murmur, my nose grazing her ear lobe. "I rather not hurt you."
YOU ARE READING
Trying To Heal
Romance{ BOOK 2 of the SANITY SERIES } A man's power dies to mark itself as the most infectious killer of time. To control the disease is godly strength. Those who manipulate with the wrong hands cause those to ignore the truth out of fear and ignorance. T...