Page 67 of Scars of Silk

She pulls her lower lip between her teeth and near on undoes me.

“Drop the shirt.”

Her eyes light with desire, a spark flickering in my direction. Slowly, she undoes it never taking her gaze off me.

“And the jeans.”

Without a word she does as I wish. Until she’s just in her white silky underwear

“Come here.”

She does, walking into my embrace. My hands are on her skin, smoothing over it the way I’d wanted to the whole time she’d laid on that chair at the shop.

I search over my shoulder for her lounge, her sofa, and then guide her towards it. “This flat is like a morgue. Where are all your belongings?” On the sofa, I drop my lips onto her neck, brushing them up to her ear, watching as the exposed skin on her throat puckers with a rush of goose bumps.

“I don’t have any.” She gasps as I pull on her earlobe with my teeth.

I almost stop then; the game doesn’t seem fair the more I realise just how lonely and broken she is. But she sighs into the air and I know she wants me to own her, wants me to make her pant as she comes.

She wants me.

“On your knees.”

She turns, a dangerous grin flitting across her face. She’ll be the end of me, I’m pretty sure of that. She’ll break my heart and it will be the end of everything.

I pull on the waistband of her knickers with one hand while my other frees my erection from my jeans and boxers.

She’s wet already. I can see her lips glistening with her desire as I push down her underwear. I don’t bother with foreplay; I just edge myself into her tight space as she widens and absorbs me to the hilt. She groans out loud and I rock deep inside her, my hand running down her spine, palming her with a gentle pressure until she’s face down onto the arm of the sofa, her arse high in the air with me buried deep inside her.

From this angle she’s looks like perfection, and that ink I etched onto her skin shines back at me as I give her everything I have and she meets me with all she is.

Later, she’s asleep on the bed, her dark hair splayed against the white sheets. I stretch from the tips of my toes. It’s been a fair while since I put in a decent day’s work. It feels good.

I slink myself around her, pulling her tight into my side. “Why aren’t you asleep?” she whispers.

“I’m looking at you.”

“Weirdo.” She grins sleepily, her breathing softly returning to low and deep, steady inhalations.

Closing my eyes, I try to sleep, but I’m restless; caught between what the future might bring and old memories best long forgotten. Too many thoughts all at once. Every so often I glance at her tattoo.

She’s like a drug I can’t stay away from. The hit I wanted from my dad’s painkillers but never received. She’s the rush of the fight that never arrived with every punch that landed.

I’m sure that by some fluke of happenstance this girl I was never meant to meet is everything I need.

I kiss her shoulder, breathing in the faint hint of perfume on her skin, warm and musky.

When the phone rings, I reach for mine, but when the screen's still dark I realise it’s hers. Ignoring it, I settle back at her side until it rings again.

“Sienna, your phone.” I nudge her but she bats me away. Sitting, I reach across to the bedside table and pick up her phone, my breath catching when I see Elijah’s name flashing on the screen.

“Hi,” I answer, cringing slightly. It’s not like he hadn’t put the two of us together.

“Dan?”

“Uh. Yeah.” I scrub a hand through my hair.

“Dan, is Sienna there?” His voice is tight and with it the muscles in the pit of my stomach contract.