Wallace
He crooned, so sweetly, and a shiver zipped down her spine as she held his gaze -so stupid, so bold. His iron touch was so gentle, a tender sweep along the lines he'd traced there. She was bitterly reminded how attractive he was when her response curled those lips. A hidden strike of fear flashed through her, so icy cold, but she didn't shy away from him, didn't try to escape the care he gave her as he toyed at her hip.
It felt good, and he knew it.
He continued his path along her side, so knowing, an expert, as he challenged her to turn him away. To turn from the intoxicating fire of his touch. There was a part of her that was surprised even he might want her at all, hungrily drinking in the desire swimming in those silver eyes. Could he really want her? No one else had before him, no one else would after him.
Up and down each rib, he stroked, and her skin twitched beneath the iron. Nobody was here, nobody was ever here for her. But he wanted her, he was here and showing her just how special she could feel. Even for a moment, just a fragment of time. It wasn't love, never that. But she could pretend. Let herself believe someone cared enough to want to make her feel good, to heat her to boiling and tip her over the edge.
A second assault came then; his lips on her shoulder, trailing up her neck to whisper in her ear. Her lips parted in a shallow breath, heavy lids drifting closed. "I'll leave if you want me to..." and she thought he meant it, thought he might give her the power to choose. "Or I could stay... see if I can't prove that apology's worth accepting." Promises she already knew he could fulfill, had already experienced his immense skill. He'd known her body better than she did, had known just what to do to make her want it too. To make her crave it again.
Maybe her body was betraying her like before. Maybe it was taking over her and answering him. Because she could swear he smiled against her hot skin as his lips touched her here, and his iron fingers explored elsewhere. "Tell me, pretty Lacey. What do you want?" Her breath caught in her slender throat, fighting back a guttural sound of pleasure.
Maybe it was the season. Maybe it was him. Maybe she needed to feel wanted; wanted to be touched and he was the only one that would anymore. Ruined. She shifted, barely a step closer to his chest -just to see, just to test if she was bound for him again. But she was free, she could still move, still escape this. If she wanted to.
Her eyes slowly slid open to meet his, the same amount of innocence that he may have left her with -there were no others after him, if there was any, as she reached for his jaw, traced soft lips along that curve with the lack of innocence he'd left her with. Suddenly, proving himself didn't sound like such a bad idea, if it ever had.
What do you want, he'd asked.
I want you to shut the hell up.
