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"You are a work of art

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"You are a work of art. Forgive me for being silent."

A work of art? He kisses my scars, first to the right, then to the left. I stay in place but turn around because I want to look at his face and ... heavens. There is immense warmth in him.

"Raor...do you endure...what you are seeing?"

"I don't see anything wrong. Or rather, what those beasts have done to you is undoubtedly wrong, and I guarantee I will rip open their insides with my bare hands. But I can't stop looking at your back, because it is beautiful. Not even the worst scars could scratch you. I will give you pleasure from behind and in any other position you want. I am in love with these scars, because they are yours."

Tear drops wet the sheet. I retract them, forcing myself not to mess it up, and dry myself quickly.

"I love you." That's what I have the strength to say to him, because he has left me breathless. He loves me like that. With those marks on his back. He just loves me.

"I love you too. Now relax."

The glans of the masculinity sinks in like the knife cutting through butter, the lips of my flower spread to make room for him, and he pushes all the rest in one smooth stroke. I am so ready and wet that there is no need to be gentle. Heavens, I can feel it. He has a stone-hard member and my walls are adjusting, clenching him eagerly.

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