Puzzle Pieces

PUZZLE PIECES

X avier twirls the blade in his fingers, looking at it as if it's an old friend. The grin on his face is one of pure delight, his soulless eyes glimmering.

"Red has always been my favorite color. I wanted to see you in it today. You're going to look so, so pretty."

My lips tremble, betraying the absolute horror filling my body.

"Please…"

His smile widens. "Let me hear you say that again. I love it when you beg."

Xavier delivers a sharp slap to my cheek before he plunges the knife into my stomach, a scream ripping from my throat as my arms thrash against him.

"Addie!" A shout, followed by a firm grip on my wrist, jolts me out of my dream. Reality rushes in, quickly and slowly all at once. It wasn't real, but my brain is slow to process my surroundings.

Zade's face materializes above mine, my fist a mere inch from planting into his face. Panting heavily, I realize it was him who slapped me, and I nearly attacked him for it. I tug my wrist out of his grasp, curling my hands against my chest as if to put them in time-out.

It's still dark outside, the moonlight spearing into the room through the balcony doors. I can't have been asleep for more than a couple hours.

Shadows conceal half of Zade's face, only his pale blue eye, white scar, half of his lips, and strong jawline visible.

"Why do I get the feeling you weren't screaming because I was making you come so hard?" Zade asks evenly, breaking the tense silence.

His features blur as tears bubble to my eyes, the remnants of Xavier's evil smile circulating through the forefront of my brain. There's an incessant clicking in the air, and it takes a few moments before I realize my teeth are chattering.

"I'm sorry," I choke out, my cheeks burning with shame.

Zade's quiet for a beat before asking, "Am I supposed to forgive you for something?"

My bottom lip trembles and try as I might to keep my erratic emotions at bay, they're beginning to boil over the edge. "I guess not."

His fingers softly brush a few strands from my face. "What do you need from me, baby?"

My brows knit, and my mind trips over that question.

What do I need?

Do I need to burst into a fit of tears until I can't breathe? Or should I find the closest breakable object and smash it onto the floor? Zade would likely loan me his face or chest as a punching bag. Yet, all those options seem exhausting. And despite my racing heart and the adrenalin steadily coursing through my veins, I don't have the energy for any of it.

"I don't know," I rasp, my voice husky with unshed tears. "All I feel is dirty right now. I'm dirty."

He's pulling away from me instantly, his voice sharp as he commands, "Come here, Adeline. Now."

Grabbing my hand, he tugs me off the bed with him. Then, he grabs the back of my thighs and lifts me into his arms, my legs instantly circling around his waist.

I'm tempted to lay my head on his shoulder and hide my face into the crook of his neck, but I'm intrigued when he carries me into the bathroom.

I was expecting him to take me downstairs. Maybe pour me a glass of whiskey.

He flips on the light, briefly blinding me. I squint my eyes against the harsh light, even more tempted to tuck my face away.

He sets me on the counter, a puff of breath escaping me.

"What are you doing?" I ask, watching him lean past me and grab my toothbrush from the holder. Methodically, he wets it, slathers a strip of toothpaste on it, then wets it again before lifting it to my mouth.

I lean away from it, staring at him with confusion. "Again, I ask, what are you doing?"

"Use your observation skills, baby. Now open your mouth."

My lips purse, that simple request eliciting so many fresh memories—

He nudges the toothbrush against my lips. "Quit thinking so hard about it and listen."

Before I can think some more, his thumb pulls down my bottom lip, encouraging me to part them. My eyes cross as I watch the toothbrush go into my mouth.

Gently, he grips my chin in his fingers and brushes my teeth, directing my head as needed.

I'm so entranced by what's happening that my racing thoughts cease. All I can do is stare. His yin-yang eyes focused, and his brow creasing with concentration as he moves it throughout my teeth.

"When I was a kid, I used to suffer from night terrors," he tells me. "I don't remember what they were about anymore, but it got so bad, my mom slept in my little twin bed next to me. There were some nights that I was shaking so hard, my body went numb. I could never get back to sleep, too afraid I'd be revisited by whatever monsters were haunting me."

His gaze flicks to mine, and I'm curious what kind of monsters could scare someone like Zade, even as a child. It's hard to picture him as a little boy trembling with terror. It's so unlike the man who stands before me now, seemingly invincible.

"The first thing she'd do was take me into the bathroom and brush my teeth. She said fresh breath makes everyone feel better. It was such a menial task that it calmed me down. Then, we'd do brain teasers or put together puzzles until I was too tired to remember that I was scared."

He shifts my head to the side to get the back of my teeth, fixated on his task while I fixate on him.

"I didn't have nightmares when I fell back asleep. And by morning, I would almost forget I had one at all until nighttime came around, and we did it all over again."

An overwhelming urge to cry arises. Emotion clogs my throat, making it hard to breathe as foam fills my mouth.

A small tear leaks from the corner of my eye, and once that one frees itself, more follow.

Noticing my predicament, he silently hands me the toothbrush. I take it slowly, and though he didn't say it aloud, I heed his silent command and put it back in my mouth and start scrubbing again.

His hands move to my bare thighs. I jerk, another tear wiggling free. Frozen beneath his touch, my hand stills.

"Keep brushing," he whispers, his eyes tracking down his white t-shirt I stole in lieu of a nightie, to where his fingers caress my knees.

I dig the bristles deeper into my teeth, not caring if I make my gums bleed.

I tremble as he draws patterns across my flesh, goosebumps rising as he circles up mid-thigh and back down to my knees.

His touch is slow and deliberate. Suggestive. Sensual.

And my body wars with the urge to open my legs or run away. I equally want both, yet don't. I'm more comfortable with Zade's touch, even seeking it out myself, but there are certain nights where the memories are too raw, and all I want to do is curl in on myself.

His fingers leisurely slide up my thighs until he's pushing the t-shirt up. Farther and farther until my white cotton underwear is exposed. My breathing escalates, though my hand continues to move on autopilot. My teeth are plenty clean, but it keeps my mind busy, and his touch feels… good.

The tips of his fingers slide to the outer edge of my thighs before gliding up toward the sides of my underwear. He teases the fabric, waiting for my rejection. But I only brush harder, my eyes glued to his hands. He grips the cotton and tugs once.

Peeking up at him through my eyelashes, I find that his chest is heaving just as deeply as mine, his eyes locked on his hands.

After a moment, his gaze slides up to meet mine. Electricity sparks in the air between us and it feels like I'm breathing in static air. Our eyes stay connected, even as he tugs again. This time, I anchor my free hand on the counter and lift up just enough for him to slip the underwear down past my ass.

I settle, moving the toothbrush again while we continue to watch each other, the sparks burning hotter. Brighter.

The fabric whispers across my skin before falling to the floor. I'm burning from the inside out, sweat gathering at the base of my spine.

Keeping his gaze firm to mine, he reaches over and grabs the empty cup I keep next to my toothbrush and holds it up to my mouth.

"Spit."

I do. Then, he turns on the water, takes my toothbrush, and rinses it off. Afterward, he cups a hand full of water and brings it to my mouth, cold droplets spilling from his palm and onto my heated skin.

I sip from his hand, shivering from the water splashing all over my lap, and swish to cleanse the toothpaste from my mouth. And then I spit it out into the awaiting cup again, wiping my lips with the back of my wrist as he sets it down.

I inhale sharply when he slides his hands up my thighs, smearing the cold water across my flesh, commanding the goosebumps to meet his palms.

Gently, he parts my legs. I resist at first, and he doesn't push—only continues to glide his hands up and down until they part wider and wider.

A heaviness settles deep in my core, and I feel how slick my inner thighs have become. With the nightmare still clinging onto my brain, it disturbs me a little. But I suppose sex with Zade has always been disturbing.

My chest tightens when his fingertips brush across my center, growing bolder while I stay silent. His thumb swipes my clit, and my eyes shutter closed.

He circles the bud while I concentrate hard on that feeling, determined to ride it out. Keeping my eyes closed, I tilt my head back, a breathless moan escaping when he presses harder.

The sensation builds, the static in my lungs spreading until a buzz forms beneath my skin. I pant out little moans, Zade's name teasing the tip of my tongue.

Quickly, he grabs my hips and jerks me forward before hiking both of my knees up, planting my feet on the edge of the counter and spreading them wide.

His thumb is back on my clit, firmly circling again. I hiss through my teeth, the bliss renewed and sharper this time. I'm almost invigorated by the new position, spread open before him as he pleasures me.

Arching my back, my legs widen farther, and the first groan releases past Zade's lips. His thumb dips lower, gathering my wetness, then spreading it back up to my clit, the digit slipping from how wet I am.

"Let me," he rasps, his voice tight and strained.

He doesn't elaborate. But he's wearing his briefs and hasn't made any indication to undress. His eyes are locked on what his hand is doing, which tells me whatever he's asking for, it doesn't involve him fucking me.

I'm more disappointed than relieved, and I take that as an improvement from the sheer terror I felt not too long ago.

"Okay," I whisper.

Zade bites his lip, glancing up at me through thick lashes, his mismatched eyes swirling with wicked delight. Whatever relief I felt seconds ago dissipates.

Oxygen evades me as he bends at the knees, his movements deliberately slow. He allows me to see his intent from a mile away. And while it causes my breath to hitch and my stomach to clench, it doesn't send me into a panic.

His hands cup the underside of my thighs, his hungry gaze dropping to my pussy. His lips part and his tongue pokes out, swiping out like a starved man presented with a meal. My mouth parts, instantly overcome with pleasure.

"Were you dreaming about another man taking this?" he asks, flitting his gaze up to mine.

"I—yeah," I answer shakily.

"Bad girl," he admonishes lightly before placing a gentle kiss on my clit. "Do I need to remind you who owns this pretty pussy?"

I bite my lip, my cheeks flushing hot. "I already know who owns it."

He cocks a brow in challenge, and I can't help but smile when I say, "Me."

He laughs, the sound savage, and I know that I'm done for. My stomach drops a moment before he bites down on my clit, earning a sharp scream.

"Zade!"

His tongue quickly replaces his teeth, soothing the sting and replacing it with pleasure. I cry out, my eyes instantly rolling from the feeling of his tongue spearing inside of me.

An answering groan vibrates across my sensitive core, causing my hips to jerk against his mouth, his intense stare locked on mine while he thoroughly feasts on me.

He focuses on my clit, circling the nub in just the right way that has my back arching and my hands sliding into his hair.

"Tell me what you're feeling, little mouse," he orders, before granting me another broad stroke.

"T-tell you?"

He only cocks a brow, an expectant look on his face. Another flick of his tongue.

"U-uhm. It feels… good. R-really good," I stutter, my voice shaky and unstable.

He hums, unimpressed with my answer, and I jerk from the vibration. And then he does something he hasn't done before. He leans away while his fingers slide back the hood over my clit, exposing the sensitive bud completely before his mouth closes over it.

Another cry releases from my lips when his tongue flicks over it in quick successions, my hips coming completely off the sink. He uses his free hand to slam them back down, holding me in place.

The pleasure is overwhelming. Too much. But he's relentless, and within moments, my cries turn to screams, and my legs violently shake around his head.

The look in his mismatched eyes is nothing short of determined.

"Oh my God, Zade, please, wait," I beg, my legs kicking out as I struggle. He holds tight, and the pleasure is so stark, it borders on painful.

He doesn't relent, and I know him well enough by now that he's waiting.

"It feels fucking amazing," I pant out. His tongue slows an increment, encouraging me to keep going. It's hard to think with the building orgasm just on the horizon, but I power through. "It feels like I'm… alive. Like I'm a goddamn human again."

My voice cracks at the end, but he doesn't let me focus on the rising emotion in my chest. He releases the hood, the sharp pleasure calming, despite his still erratic tongue. And then without any warning, he plunges two fingers in my pussy, curling them and hitting that soft spot that never fails to send me over the edge.

My legs snap closed around his head as I shatter into a million tiny pieces, my screams echoing loudly across the tile. I break over and over, like repeatedly slamming a glass piece against a wall until there's nothing left but dust.

Vaguely, I recall the feeling of wetness splattering across my thighs, but it's lost in the chaos consuming my body.

His fingers continue to draw out the pleasure until I'm sobbing and begging for reprieve.

Finally, he jerks away before standing and crowding over me.

He grips my jaw in his hand, bringing my lips within an inch of his.

"Tell me who owns your pussy, little mouse. I won't ask again."

"You do," I breathe shakily.

"You remember what to do?" he growls. I nod and open my mouth, heart pounding as a trail of his saliva slides across my tongue, my own musky taste blooming across my taste buds.

"Good girl," he croons, before he crashes his lips into mine.

His mouth slips against my own, still soaking wet from his time between my legs. But I don't mind, not when the static in my lungs ignites between our connected lips, and it feels like being submerged in a thundercloud. The slickness from his face mixed with the sparks he's creating is nothing short of electrifying.

He pulls away, breathless and panting as he rests his forehead against mine.

"Did any part of that taste dirty to you?" he asks, voice strained.

I frown. "No."

"I don't want to hear you say you're dirty again. Don't imply it. Don't think it. And don't fucking feel it. There's not a single inch of you that isn't divine . "

He grabs my jaw again, lifting my face up until our eyes clash, while his other hand reaches down and swipes his fingers through my center, gathering my arousal on the tips.

"Don't you know gods only succumb to purity?" He lifts his coated fingers and paints them across my lips. "Drinking from your pussy is like being blessed with holy water. I'll confess my sins if it means you'll be the one to save me."

His words are nothing short of poetic, yet somehow, they make me sad, too. "How do you expect me to save you?"

A smirk glides on his face. "Keep baptizing me with your cum and I think I'll find my way into heaven alongside you." He grunts in amusement. "Or I'll just break down those pearly fucking gates and take you."

Baptizing ? Fire licks at my cheeks when I register that Zade's face is… very wet. And then I remember the feeling of wetness splashing on my thighs when I came.

My mouth parts. "I didn't."

Picking up on exactly what I'm saying, his smirk widens. "You did, baby."

Zade clearly already has a god complex, and now his ego has grown so big, pretty soon I'll be forced to walk next to a goddamn airhead.

"Whatever, I'm going to go find a puzzle now before you go crashing through the ceiling with your inflated head. It'll get stuck in the attic, and I'm sure as shit not helping you there. The demons can have you."

I hop from the counter, pull my underwear on, and brush past him, but not without earning a sharp slap to my backside. I yelp, and he chuckles darkly.

"Baby, my tongue just broke you into pieces. You are the puzzle."

Whatever.