✍︎ 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞-𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐧 [dark psychopath x FBI romance] | 𝟏𝟖+

𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝟣𝟣

𝗦𝗬𝗕𝗜𝗟𝗟𝗘

TW: graphic psychotic episode & a form-of-self-harm

I lost my kiss virginity at fourteen. It was the unappealing, quiet student Timmy who had the honor of disrupting my cheap gloss, bought for three quid, and a promise to swipe a cigarette from caretaker Henrietta. His tongue was slippery, his lips were chapped, and not to mention his irremediable skin problems – I distinctly remember how I vomited in the toilet for ten minutes after that encounter and swore to myself to never succumb to his ugly face again.

But now, over four years later, my lips are being roughly caressed by a man twice my age.

Is that wrong?

Heavens, no.

Not at all.

Not when a moan accidentally escapes my lips, my hands cradling his beard-covered cheek.

I inhale through my lips, feeling Davis's tongue exploring mine. His strong hands clutch my hip, the other rests against my scarred cheek, and the man leans harder into me. Clay pinches my lips, greedily hugs my waist, and pushes me against the car. 

I giggle when he gently pulls back and looks at me. The man's eyelashes are coated with raindrops, his hands pressed beside my ears, and his neck dangerously bending toward me.

He looks even bigger, towering over me.

For a moment, I only feel my pulse somewhere beneath the asphalt sidewalk. I inhale, trying to suppress the shame I've built up over the last four hours, but I can't grasp any thought when his touch still lingers on my flushed lips.

Why did I even come here when I could have climbed directly onto him?

I lean my neck against the car door and smile.

"Am I forgiven, super secret special agent Davis?" I mumble, my fingers running over his wet shirt collar.

Clay sighs, carefully grips my wrists, and looks at me.