08| 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐞

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She's the breath that I steal when the night is cold, the fire that burns through every part of my soul.

She's the breath that I steal when the night is cold, the fire that burns through every part of my soul

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She's sitting on my lap. My little rainbow. The one thing that can bring me peace and chaos in the same breath.

Finally. After all the waiting, all the watching, she's here-exactly where she belongs. Sitting in my arms, on my lap, with her warmth pressed against me, my face buried in the soft curve of her neck. My beautiful baby.

So precious. So divine. And mine.

The thought alone sends a surge of heat through me, possessive and primal, tightening every muscle in my body with a satisfaction so fierce it borders on violence. Every inch of her, from her trembling breath to the rapid pulse thrumming beneath my lips, is mine. Mine to claim, mine to protect, mine to destroy if I choose. But I won't. Not yet. Not when she's finally here, within reach, so close that I can feel her body tense against mine, fighting the very thing she's beginning to crave.

She feels it too.

I can sense the battle waging inside her-the fear, the uncertainty, the innocence that's trying so hard to resist. But her body betrays her. Drawn to me. To this pull between us. She won't admit it, not yet, but she will. I'll break down every wall she tries to hide behind. She'll surrender, just like she's doing now, without even realizing it.

Her scent invades my senses, delicate and intoxicating, a drug that fuels my obsession. I nuzzle deeper into her neck, breathing her in, feeling her shudder under my touch. Fuck, the way her body reacts.

It's like a silent invitation, like she's begging for more even though she doesn't know it yet. My lips graze the sensitive skin of her throat, and she inhales sharply, the sound of her gasp sending a thrill through me.

"You made me wait so long," I whisper against her skin, my voice low, rough, dark with need. "To have you like this. To feel you."

I know my words will confuse her, make her mind swirl with questions. But that's exactly what I want. And it works, because she pulls back, taking that sweet scent, that refuge of mine, from my reach. And I don't like it. Not one fucking bit.

My gaze travels from the soft curve of her neck, where I've already left a mark, a claim, to her onyx eyes staring back at me, wide and questioning, filled with fear. She doesn't understand-she thinks this is all a dream, a nightmare maybe. She doesn't yet know it's her new reality.

My hand moves on its own, fingers reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, needing to touch her again, to feel her skin beneath mine. But as soon as my fingers brush her cheek, her breath hitches, a sharp gasp escaping her lips.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬Where stories live. Discover now