I lean in close, my breath grazing his ear. "You're mean," I murmur, voice barely above a whisper as I swallow down the whimper threatening to escape-though from the way his smirk deepens, I know he hears it.
That devilish grin spreads across his fa...
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I gaze at his face. It's his is face so effortlessly mesmerizing. Even as he sleeps soundlessly his full lips at there fullest as he sleeps. A dark scar barely visible on his dark pink upper lip. I reach my hand out touching his face gentle I stroke his cheek with my thumb I brush a kiss against his lips. Their so soft I grin. He opens his eyes he doesn't look sleepy. He grabs my throat kissing me hard.
My mouth hurts when we pull away he bites but it's a kinda of good pain. I whine a little He pulls back sucking on just my bottom lip to apologize. I blow him a soft kiss on his cheek.
"You weren't alseep were you?" I ask he shrugs I touch his eye brows. "I heard you get up." "I had to check on Emilia." I say she was awake after I tickled her feet but she fell back asleep after I fed her it's 8 in the morning I don't expect her to be jumping with enthusiasm. that comes at 8:30 am.
"you don't have any scars?" I say softly drawing a circle on his temple. "On your body I mean. You have right one here. I say pushing my thumb against his upper lip. It's faint. I've seen a couple I don't know if I could point them all out. I imagine his child hood wasn't cuddly though. When he switched from Coltino to Colten it's American. I think Colten is Italian but he's born here. I never asked while sober.
"I'm covered in tattoos I have plenty you just can't see them for a reason." I hum nodding "show me?" I ask he grabs my chin gently pulling me closer. "another day." he whispers kissing me gently I frown feeling my bottom lip poke out a bit "are you actually pouting?" I don't answer I crawl on top of him full view of my body as I sit on his abs still hard.
"The puppy face doesn't match the pornstar body," he says, his hand brushing over my stomach, gently pressing me down onto him. "Your belly button ring..."
"Modeling agencies don't approve," I murmur, my voice low. Also—I had a fucking baby.
And if I went for the c-section doctors would be cutting me around there. He drags his finger lower on me right above my vagina so he's pressing hard on my tattoo. Amity. "They approve of this though?" my breathing stops a bit "ouch!" I whimper he hesitates a bit.
"I got stitches there—twice. Be gentle." His hand immediately eases, the pressure lifting from just above my bladder. I don't feel it anymore, not really—not since the stitches were removed.
"You can take pain," he murmurs, as if reminding me. His hand slides up, fingers brushing my cheek. The touch is soft. Soothing. Too kind. I nod. "Doesn't mean I have to," I whisper, eyes dropping.
"Stitches twice?" he asks, a flicker of concern tightening his voice. I give a short breath of a laugh. "Some childhood trauma... and the surgeries. After I became a human baseball for those assholes at the club."
He nods, slow. There's something in his expression—something like guilt, though it doesn't belong to him. But I know better.
"They didn't actually have to cut me there," I add softly, resting my fingers on a different scar, higher up. "Only up here."
