Page 72 of Wild Heart
“I’m alright, baby. Promise.”
The morphine shots Ben’s doctor came by to give me kept the pain at a shallow, manageable level. Soon, it’d be nothing but a memory. A symbol of my devotion. There was not a single thing I wouldn’t sacrifice for mySolnyshko.
“Papa.” His fingertips brushed over the skin on my chest, and then he whimpered, shoving his face into my neck.
His breath coasted down my spine in a way that made my toes curl.Fuck.I was weak for him.
“I need you again, Papa.”
“I’m right here, Solnyshko.” Pressing a hand to his back, I rubbed up and down his spine, slipping my palm over the curve of his ass to push two fingers up inside of him.
He made a wrecked sound and spread his thighs a little wider. They were wet with the come still dripping from his hole. I’d given him two loads this morning, and when the emptiness became too much, he begged for more.
“Take what you need, baby.”
He sat up, hands anchored on my neck. Hazy, blown-out eyes touched down on me, shimmering with need. I was ready for him when he rocked back, my cock slipping past his wet, soft rim. Pressing his forehead to mine, he sobbed when he was seated fully, rocking back against me with moans trapped in his throat.
Christ.
The pain in my hand ceased, and I marveled at the way his body felt, molded so perfectly to mine. He quivered with a want that was magnified somehow, melting across my chest. Pressing his lips to my neck, he sucked on my pulse point and bounced himself up and down on my cock.
Delving my hand in his hair, I yanked, forcing his mouth against mine. Marcos kissed me deep, tongue tangling with mine before he shoved it down my throat. Heels on the mattress, I thrust, groaning in pleasure at the way his body continued to open for me. He panted against my mouth, quivering against the fullness he craved.
“You feel better now, baby?”
He responded with a helpless grunt.
“Yeah, I think you do.” I stroked the hair at the nape of his neck, scratching at his scalp in the sharp way he liked. “You need to fall apart on Papa’s cock so you can feel better again. That’s okay, baby. I’ll give you what you need.”
“More marks, Papa. Please.”
Slapping his hands against my chest, he sat tall, arching his spine and throwing his head back. Curls were everywhere, blue glitter falling like rain down his flushed cheeks. He was a fucking work of art, a goddamn treasure decorated in obsession.
Neck straining, I saw his veins throb beneath lines of sweat, and I surged forward, sinking my teeth into the tender skin. He yelped, clawing at my chest with one hand while the other dove for his cock. Rocking hard against his prostate, I licked over the wound on his neck, and then he was flying.
Body rigid, he gasped for breath. The warmth of his release coated my stomach in thick spurts.
His undoing was its own brand of pleasure, and I wrapped my arm around his waist, holding him against my lap as I filled him again, growling.
A slow, satisfied smile pulled at his cheeks, and then he collapsed forward, curling up against my bare chest. Hips wiggling, he bore down on me the way he always did, begging me to stay, a little afraid of the emptiness.
Cupping the back of his head, I kept him close. “How about we visit Hay Hay tomorrow?”
“You’re not healed!”
“Baby, my hand is doing just fine.”
“It’s been six days.” He argued in a very familiar tone. “You’re not a very good patient. You need to work on taking care of yourself.”
“I couldn’t give two shits about taking care of myself, Solnyshko. The only person I care about taking care of is you.”
“Ivan.”
The muscles in his back rippled with his shudder, and I felt the wetness of his tears caress my skin before they slid down the curve of my chest.
Nowhere on my body was there a wound that could even begin to touch the ache his tears caused. It was a powerless, sickening sort of pain that left me feeling too many things at once.
Rage.
