Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Wren

I read aloud from a book,while Six lies beside me on the blanket, his finger gently trailing over my skin.

He pauses to twist my bracelet, the one from Papa, and points at the words spelled out in the beads across my wrist.

“Love.” With a smile, I turn toward him, closing the cover of the book on my finger to hold the page. “Do you know what it means?”

He nods, staring back at me, and pushes the strands of hair behind my ear, as usual.

“Can you write what it means to you on the page?”

Nodding a second time, he grabs the pencil and paper, where various words and short sentences have been written across the page. On a blank line, he writes Wren.

I smile down at my name and back to him. “Do you love me, Six?”

Nodding, he lifts my hand to his lips and kisses the back of my palm.

“I love you, too.”

It’s true. I don’t know if I’ve ever loved anyone as much as I love Six.

He climbs over my body, sliding my hands up above my head, the way he does when he wants us to kiss for a while. I release the book, allowing him to pin me beneath him, and when his lips fall against my neck, I giggle at the scratch of his stubble prickling my skin. He presses his hands into mine, holding me down while he brushes his rough jawline into the crook of my neck. The tickle forces me to tilt my head into him, laughing, as I buck beneath him.

“Six!” I break into more giggles, out of breath with his torment. “Stop!”

He does immediately, pulling his head away from mine.

The bluest eyes I’ve ever known stare down at me while he studies my face.

“You would stop if I asked you to, wouldn’t you? No matter what?”

He nods and dips his head to kiss me.

“I don’t want us to stop this time.”

Every night we’ve explored each other, pleasured one another, but I want the ultimate connection with Six. I want to feel what it’s like to be one entity, so deeply connected with him, and vulnerable at the same time. I want to lose control with him, to feel the sweat and the power of him, the electricity moving inside of me, the way it does when he merely touches me. I want our bodies to move in sync, to communicate on a level that doesn’t require words.

I want to steal a piece of his soul that I can carry with me forever.

Propping his body up from mine, he frowns down at me.

“I want you to show me how much you love me. Will you do that?”

A flicker of something flashes behind his eyes, and I’d give anything to know what thoughts are churning in his mind.

The upturn of his brows tells me he’s worried, and when his gaze strays from mine, I tip my head to guide his eyes back to me.

“If it hurts, I’ll tell you to stop. Please, Six?”

He glances away, the conflict clear on his face, but he nods.

The moment he releases my hands, I push my shorts down, kicking them off and tug my shirt over my head.

Six pushes back onto his knees, his eyes widening, as I lay back on the blanket, raising my arms over my head in shameless offering. As many times as he’s seen me naked now, I’ll never tire of his expression, as if it’s the first every time.

Keeping his eyes on me, he slowly unfastens his jeans, standing up to push them to his ankles before punting them away, and tosses his shirt somewhere off to the side. The chiseled dips in his stomach and arms form deep grooves, shadowed by the muscles across his body.

My eyes trail down to his penis, which stands up from his palm as he strokes his shaft.

A nervous twinge beats through my muscles, the surface of my skin tingling with anticipation. As I spread my legs, he falls to his knees, settling himself between my thighs, and I close my eyes.

His lips create a reverent path from my navel to my neck, until he slants his mouth over mine. Like some kind of ritual, he performs this way every time we partake in something sexual, as if asking forgiveness for what he’s about to do.

He backs himself down the path of phantom kisses still lingering on my skin. Lips clamp to my nipple, and I let out a moan, clenching my teeth with the intense waves of lust beating through me. I reach down and massage the top of his head with one hand, while the other clasps to a tight fist.

Over the sounds of his suckling is a light desert breeze ruffling the leaves above me, while I float on clouds of bliss. A quiet moan slips past my lips, and I remember we’re alone out here. Just the two of us.

Six moves to my other breast, and a second moan vibrates my chest, arriving louder than before, loud enough for him to pause his suckling for a moment.

His tip presses against my entrance, and my body turns rigid.

I open my eyes and find Six staring down at me, his intense gaze silently asking permission.

Swimming in the wash of excitement is an undertow of fear that pulls at my stomach, but I nod. There’s no one else I trust more than Six, and I want him to be my first.

His body sets into motion, rocking into me, slow and gentle, only the tip of him breaching the place his fingers have been.

Shaky breaths beat against my cheek as he trembles in my arms.

“It’s okay, Six,” I whisper.

The slow prodding of his tip creates a slick wetness, and he drives forward again, pushing himself inside of me.

I cry out, banding my arms around his shoulders, and tip my head back.

Pressure hits my womb, as he fills me, sliding back and forth across my tight walls. More juices slick his thrusts. For every sting of pain, is a chasing wash of pleasure, ebbing and flowing inside of me.

The throaty whine that blasts out of me doesn’t sound human, at all. It sounds like an animal being torn from the inside out.

The familiar caress of his tongue, dancing across my nipple, echoes our nights of innocent exploration, tamping down the painful bite as he stretches me with every drive of his hips. It grounds me. Draws me into him, when my body wants to rebel against this new invasion.

My stomach muscles bunch, as if he’s breaching my womb, while my cheeks feel as if I’ve been sitting by a toasty fire for hours.

Sweat glistens across his skin with the constant quake in his muscles, like he’s fighting to maintain his control. He holds himself still inside of me, eyes screwed shut, and breath explodes from his chest on a shudder.

“I’m okay,” I whisper. “I’m okay, Six.”

His fingers curl into mine, holding tight, and I wrap my legs around him when he pushes deeper. Deeper.

“Oh, Gah—” The pressure winds inside my belly, and I arch into him.

His jaw hangs open, head tipped back with his eyes closed, and a look of pure ecstasy claims his face.

He thrusts again. And again.

Hooking his arm beneath my thigh, he slides my leg over his shoulder and pushes even deeper, climbing higher up my body.

“Six.” His name arrives as a whisper, a constant chime inside my head that reminds me who has commanded my body this way.

Wriggling a hand free, I slide my palm across his damp shoulders, the steel of his muscles flexing beneath. He’s formidable and strong, but so vulnerable at the same time.

I want to crawl inside of him and stay there. I want to touch his heart, and allow him to touch mine. Hips driving him into me, Six stares into my eyes, and I drown in that sea of blue, letting it pull me under with him to the dark depths of wherever his mind goes.

Beads of sweat wet his hairline and his face pinches with agony, as if it’s all too much for him. A carnal darkness shadows his eyes, and he pushes my leg away.

His movements turn abrupt. His fingers dig into my flesh, bruising my skin. He flips me over onto my stomach and grabs hold of my hips, slamming himself back inside of me.

I cry out again, but the panic in my voice seems to have no effect on him.

I lift my head, but he holds it down, pressing my cheek into the blanket. A wave of fear washes over me, but instead of fighting him, a voice inside tells me to surrender to it. So I do.

I allow his roughness this time.

His body rails into me from behind, while he continues to pin me down. The grunts and moans remind me of animals mating. I close my eyes and imagine that. The two of us in the wild, with him using my body, rutting against me recklessly.

Everything turns numb, and the sting from before fizzles into a fullness in my belly, as he fills me with his venom. This hate the world has branded him with. The cruelty of his tortures slam into me, consuming me in his sadness.

He’s baring his soul to me. Peeling back his skin to the blackness within.

I could tell him to stop, and he would. I know he would, but I don’t.

Instead, I open my mouth to the familiar sensation I’ve come to know, on nights when he’s gently brought me to climax. It coils low, and I cinch my eyes shut, gripping tight to the blanket.

He pounds faster, and I can feel my breasts jostling beneath me with his coarseness, my nipples brushing against the fabric below me.

The masculine sounds of approval that reach my ears only heighten my inexplicable need for this, and my muscles tighten. I lift myself higher to him, allowing him to push deeper, and a droning sound rumbles in my chest—a cross between pleasure and pain. The thrusting of his hips intensifies, until the last bit of control flits out of my grasp, and I scream.

I curl my fingers into the blanket, as if to keep myself grounded, and submit to the explosion that rockets through my blood.

Six grunts and growls, squeezing my hips as he pounds out the last of his release.

Wet warmth leaks down the back of my thighs when he finally stills, keeping himself inside of me, and collapses across my back.

My body is trembling, my muscles weak, and my tears break on a sob.

It’s not because of the pain—I don’t feel any pain, at all. Yet, at the same time, I feel everything. All at once, and it’s too much. I feel as if I’ve given away my darkest secrets, while taking in Six’s at the same time. The hurt. The anger. The true nature of his being.

I wanted to touch his soul, but I didn’t anticipate the obscurity of it. The way he keeps it hidden behind a veil of pain.

The little girl inside of me clings to the last thread of my innocence—the same one that tells me not to trust love, and that what I’ve done is wrong.

There isn’t a bone in my body that doesn’t desire to have Six—even the parts I’ve been warned about. But I didn’t expect to feel the confusion and shame of knowing that I could’ve stopped him, but didn’t. I climaxed during his roughness, as if a part of me craved it.

He pulls out of me, tucks his head into his knees, and slams his fists into his temples with an agonized cry.

With remorse, I sit up and crawl across the blankets toward him. An ache throbs between my thighs and up inside my belly, but I ignore it, because I know the pain he’s suffering is likely far worse.

The hate he has for himself is written in the tautness of his muscles, and his agonized whimper that interrupts the useless noise inside my head.

Whatever turmoil’s settled over me, it’s not his fault, it’s mine. And I don’t know why I’m feeling this way. It doesn’t make sense to me. The perplexity lies in the black void at the back of my head—the part of my mind that fails to make itself known. The part where voices echo and faceless silhouettes whisper.

He kicks away from me, pushing at the reach of my hand.

Anyone else, and I’d crawl into myself and die at the rejection. But I know why Six is doing this. He thinks he’s hurt me.

Maybe he has. Maybe that’s just the nature of us. I hurt him by inviting him to hurt me.

The world might call us sick. Perhaps even made for each other.

After all, good men are supposed to be made of sturdy bones and steel flesh, but Six is neither. He’s shadows and pain wrapped in a broken husk.

But there’s goodness in him, too.

I’ve felt it. Touched it.

Prying his arms apart, I rise up on my knees, wrapping my arms around his neck, and he pulls me into him, resting his head against my belly. Our sweat-slick skin slides against one another as I hold him, both of us trembling.

“I’m okay, Six. You didn’t hurt me. I don’t know why I’m crying.” I slide into his lap, feeling his arms wrap tight around my back.

His head nuzzles against my breast like he can’t even look at me. His mind must be in absolute hell, and the unknowns swirling inside my head certainly aren’t easing his thoughts.

Against his resistance, I tip his head up to mine and kiss him. All the feelings of want quickly intensify until the electricity hums through my body, like before.

The only way I can make things right in Six’s head is to let him know I want him. I still do. So much so, there’s an ache in my heart at this phantom sensation of regret. It angers me. Doesn’t belong in the place between us.

Wrapping my legs around his body, I drag his now-flaccid length across my swollen sex, and he kisses my neck.

“I want you, Six,” I whisper. “I always want you.”

He pulls me tight to his body, as if he could pull me inside of him and we become a single unit. As connected as two people can be.

We sit with his hardening length pressing into me, until he fills me again, and I slowly rock against him, my arms draped around his shoulders like ribbons tied to stone. With tears in his eyes, he drives into me, studying my reaction with every thrust.

Even at his weakest, there’s something powerful and breathtaking about him.

Six is like a lightning storm in the desert, as mesmerizing as he is dark and violent, with the potential to destroy in one merciless strike. And yet, for some reason, I’m drawn to him by an inexplicable magnetism that electrifies me and sets me aflame.

Two damaged souls trying to figure each other out.

His jaw clenches with every push of his hips as he ruins the little girl I no longer am. Only this time, Six is making love to me.

* * *

Closingthe cover of the book, I trace the image of the young boy and his thick black glasses, as Six and I lie naked on the blanket, our bodies cooling in the desert breeze. “Papa gave me this book a couple years ago. A gift. He found it out beyond the wall.”

Six leans forward and kisses my shoulder. In a matter of only a couple of hours, judging by the position of the sun in the sky, we’ve had sex three times beneath the cottonwood.

“Someday, I want to go out there. To see these things he sees. To learn what happened. That day with the Ragers, it didn’t change any of that. I still dream of leaving this place.” I toy with the scar at his knuckles and dip my head to kiss it. “There’s blackness inside my mind, and I feel like the answers are out there, somewhere. I want to know what happened to my mother.” Resting my head against my propped palm, I peer up at Six, whose eyes are fixed on mine. “We can’t leave Papa, though. And I don’t know if I could kill another to stay alive.”

His gaze meets mine, serious and unflinching. He reaches for the notebook and writes on the page: I wud 4 U.

I stare down at his declaration and nod. “Someday, you and I will leave this place. Somewhere they don’t know us. Where no one will ever hurt you.”

It’s the truth. We’d live wildly and recklessly. I’d kiss him all the time, not just in the stolen moments, but day and night. In the desert sun, and beneath the moon. I’d kiss him in the rain, whenever it rained, just to feel his wet lips on mine.

Taking my hand, he sets my palm to his chest over his heart and gives a squeeze.

With understanding, I nod and smile. “I love you, too, Six.” Rolling onto my back, I pull him into me for a kiss.