Dark Savior: A Dark Bad Boy Romance (8 page)

It's a weird thing to admit, even to myself, but Sonya's death was far worse on me than the deaths of my mother and father. There was no physical abuse in our childhood home, but the neglect and psychological terror we had to endure because of these two was just as bad. 

Sonya had always been solid as a rock. While she took it upon herself to raise her little sister, I always saw us as a team. I tried my best to become the person I had to become so she would be set free as soon as I turned eighteen and graduated high school. My grades weren't great, but good enough, and I have her to thank for that. I also have her to thank for that place at college. The place I failed to keep up with.

I walk over to the living room window and stare out on the street, a heavy lump in my throat. There are no more tears left inside of me. I've spent weeks and months crying, and now there is nothing but a feeling of emptiness.

I hate myself.

I wish I could turn back time. I wish I could go back to that stupid girl I was a few months back, the girl with that dumb laugh and nothing but fun on her mind. The girl who dragged her sister to a party they should never have gone to. The girl who was about to succumb to the same horrendous habits as her parents. I was on my way to becoming an alcoholic just like them, and I made damn sure that no one, especially not Sonya, would notice.

There are so many things I wish I hadn't done, but on top of that list is my decision to force Sonya out that night.

"You need a little fun in your life," I had told her. "If anyone deserves it, it's you!"

I can still see her face, framed by the same dark blond hair that our mother had as she looked at me and rolled her eyes.

"You go by yourself," she told me. "I'm just gonna’ take a bath and head to bed early."

"But you always do that!" I protested. "Come on! I promise you, we'll go home right away if you're not having fun."

I persuaded her to go that night. We got ready together, dressed up, helped each other with our make-up. I loved every minute of it. We were two young girls, just two sisters getting ready for a party. In all those years that we had been living alone, we never did anything like this. Sonya was always working, and so was I. I took a part-time job in high school to help us make ends meet, so when I wasn't studying, I was watching the kids of families who were better off than us.

This night was supposed to be special. It was my last weekend at home before I moved out for college. Sonya had applied for evening classes earlier and was about to get her undergraduate degree. Everything was going great, we had the world at our feet.

We started drinking before we left the house and were tipsy by the time we left for the party. Unlike me, Sonya was not used to drinking alcohol and her tolerance was a lot lower than mine. We drank the same amount before we left, but once we got to the party, I quickly lost track of her. We were together at first, but she started to mingle on her own after a while. We were drinking, dancing, meeting new people. It was a great night for both of us. Every time I saw her, Sonya had a glow I had never seen before on her face. She was a happy drunk, and there was absolutely no reason to worry.

Until she disappeared.

Tears. I can't help it. I'm standing at the window, my eyes fixated on the road below, but I don't see anything. A shimmering shroud of tears is clouding my view, and I'm lost in this terrible spiral of memories and regrets.

I don't hear the door behind me, and I don't hear his voice. It's not until he places his hand on my shoulder that I realize his presence. I flinch in surprise, accompanied by a pained cry.

"Hey, hey," I hear him say, but his voice sounds as if it's miles away.

I turn around and hide in his arms, burying my face in his hard chest while he holds me in a helpless embrace.

For several minutes, Kade doesn't say a word. He just holds me while I burst out in violent tears, clinging to his shirt as if I was holding on for dear life. Maybe I am.

He lets me cry for as long as I need to, and by the time my desperate wails begin to quiet, I tilt my head back to look up at him. He reciprocates my look with a calm expression. His hazel eyes observe me with their strong gaze, while he begins to stroke my back. I've missed him. I hardly know him, but his smell, his touch, his entire presence brings me to a better place.

I raise myself up on my tiptoes, my movements asking for a kiss, which he gladly provides. I must look horrible with my eyes all swollen up and my face covered in salty streams of tears. But he doesn't seem to care. His kiss is gentle but demanding. What starts out as a soft peck to console me soon turns into a sensual expression of desire. Our breathing accelerates, as we turn into a heaving entanglement of hunger and longing.

"More," I breathe in between our kisses.

He pauses and frames my face with both of his hands, lifting my eyes up to meet his.

"More?" he asks, narrowing his eyes as he locks me in place with them.

"Please," I whisper. "Take it away."

My voice is quivering as a new wave of grief threatens to take hold of me.

He doesn't give me a reply, just watching me as if he's waiting for the tears to appear again.

"Fuck me," I plead, switching to a tone I'm sure he understands. "I need you."

The look on his face changes to a serious scowl.

"I won't be gentle," he warns. I can feel his tension rising to the same degree as my own. His need is just as strong as mine. I don't care if it's just feral lust for either one of us. Right now, he’s all I want, the only distraction that keeps me from falling back into the hell of my own reality.

"Fuck me," I repeat, reaching up for his hands. I slowly pull them away from my face and he lets it happen. I lean forward and kiss the corner of his mouth.

"Fuck my pain away," I whisper, as my lips travel along his strong jaw. "Please."

I can hear his breath close to my ear. He's panting with excitement and it turns me on to no end.

He doesn't say another word or wait for another invitation. Instead, he grabs my ass, lifting me up, and my legs wrap instinctively around his waist, just like yesterday.

My heart jumps, freed from its cage of sadness.

CHAPTER NINE

Kade

She's the one who's taking. She needs me. This is new. Never before has a woman made me feel as if she's taking what she needs from me.

That's my job. I may give them pleasure in return, but I'm always the one taking. I'm selfish when it comes to these things.

Now, I have this beautifully vulnerable elf at my hands, who doesn't wait for me to sweet-talk her, but instead takes it upon herself to make sure that she gets what she needs.

And right now, it seems, what she needs is me. She claws at me with desperate urgency as I carry her over to the middle of the living room. I'm not gonna’ fuck her in my mother's bed, and we did it on the sofa yesterday. I feel obliged to give her something new. If she needs a good fuck, she'll get that, but she deserves more than the same old routine.

Also, I need her naked. Seeing her in my old clothes was charming yesterday, but it's not doing anything for me right now. I want to see her gorgeous, naked body stretched out in front of me, begging for my cock.

I brought us some more groceries when I came back, and I’m thanking myself for not placing the bags on the kitchen counter as I usually would. When I saw her standing by the window, not even noticing me when I entered the room, I dropped them right next to the door and walked over to her.

We're still in the throes of a longing kiss when I place her cute little ass up on the counter. She's a good girl and doesn't let go of me, which makes it a lot easier for me when I lift her up one more time, holding her with one arm and pulling down her shorts with the other. The sound her naked ass makes when I place her back on the surface of the counter provides its own allure.

She obediently lifts her arms when I pull the hoodie over her head. I love that she's not wearing anything but these two things. The thought of her bare pussy rubbing against the fabric of my shorts is a sick thrill and it makes my cock twitch.

"Lie back," I tell her, getting rid of my shirt as she obeys.

Her legs are awkwardly dangling down from the counter, until I grab them, bending her knees and lifting and spreading her legs as far apart as possible. She lets out a desperate moan and closes her eyes in shame.

Her bare pussy is glistening with arousal. What a twisted girl, craving my cock like a bitch in heat even when she's in such a deep hole of sadness. I can't wait to be inside of her and see her lose all memory of that sadness with each and every deep thrust.

But I want a taste of her first. I bend her legs back even further and revel in the deep and needy groan she lets out as I start licking and eating out the wetness at her core. I hold her in place by her legs as I worship her throbbing clit. Her taste is divine, touched by a hint of sweetness that reminds me of vanilla. She's gasping for air when I take her cute little nub between my teeth and nibble on it, applying and releasing pressure in a constant rhythm.

Her pleasure fuels mine, and my cock is pressing against the crotch of my pants, rock-hard and begging to be buried deep inside of her. But I want her to come like this first. I've never enjoyed a woman's pleasure as much as hers. Seeing her squirming and hyperventilating deliriously is the most beautiful sight.

I'm the one who can make her feel this way. I'm the one who's doing this to her, who has control over her in every way. I feel drunk with power at the thought of it.

She doesn't warn me this time, but just lets it happen. The way her breathing changes is telltale enough, but I can also feel heat pulsating under my tongue. She holds her breath as she's overtaken by her orgasm, while I still hold her hot clit between my teeth.

Her moans turn into cries of bliss and she spreads her legs even further, as if she's trying to get even more out of this release.

When her movements start to slow down and cries turn into exhausted whimpering, I straighten up and let go of her legs. She holds her position even without me holding her in place.

I stand before her, taking in the view of her naked, trembling body spread out so magnificently in front of me, her legs spread and her center glowing with need, while I unbutton my pants.

My steel-hard erection springs free as soon as I pull down my pants in one swift motion. She's still in her post-climax daze when I shove my dick inside of her. The sigh that escapes her lips as her tight lips wrap around my cock is the most erotic sound a man can imagine.

She holds on to the edge of the counter on both sides, and her perky tits bounce when I drive my entire length in and out of her with brutish relentlessness. I know, this is what she needs, what she wants. Her entire being is screaming for me to take her, and while I feel like I'm about to burst, I care for her release even more. I want her to come, again and again. I want to see her lose everything, to get rid of that painful sadness that haunts her. Her anguish is part of her beauty for me, but the real fuel is to see it fall apart under my touch.

She closes her eyes and tilts her head back as she takes every thrust like a good girl. I can feel her legs tense up while she tries to maintain a position that feels especially good to her. And just when I thought the view couldn't be any more beautiful than it already was, a grateful smile adorns her pale face.

I slow down, eager to relish every moment of this. She hums with approval as I push in and out of her with long and steady motions, letting her feel every inch of my length when I spread her tight entrance.

It seems as if she's barely aware of my existence with her eyes closed and her head turned to the side, still with that dazed smile on her face. She reaches for her center and starts massaging her clit with her long, thin fingers.

"Don't stop," she breathes, barely able to say the words.

Normally, I'd tell a woman to shut up. I'm the one in charge, I'm the one taking. I've never obeyed any of them giving me commands while my cock is buried inside of them.

But she's different.

With Meadow, I don't have to be the one in command. Watching her get off on my cock and forget about her sorrow is a lot more enjoyable than barking directions at her to secure my own pleasure.

I watch her, continuing with my slow thrusts while she approaches her second release. I'm going to join her when she does. I'm close already and know I will burst as soon as I feel her tight orgasmic clenches around my rod. I don't think I've ever been this hard, this mad with arousal.

Hurry
.

I want to yell it at her, but I don't. While postponing my orgasm takes all the strength I have, I want her to enjoy this and take it as she needs it.

A hearty groan tells me that she's almost there. She opens her eyes and stares up at the ceiling, her mouth partly opened and her face contorted with overwhelming disbelief. She arches her back and rolls her eyes back into her head while her muscles pulsate, massaging my cock with such a strong eagerness that I have no other choice but to join her.

My climax is blindingly intense. For a moment, it almost feels as if I'm about to lose consciousness. I freeze, holding both of us in place, my dick buried inside of her up to the base. Both of us relish the last few waves of our release until we fall back down to earth together.

What follows surprises me.

She laughs. Or so I think.

I can't see her face because she's shielding it with one hand while her body violently jerks on the kitchen counter. There's something hysterical to the sounds she's making, but I can't tell whether she's crying or laughing.

I lean forward, supporting myself on my elbows as I lean down above her, my face close to hers.

"Hey," I say, but she doesn't react to me.

I force her hand aside so I can look her in the eyes. She lets it happen, but presses her teary eyes shut, refusing to look at me. Her mouth is contorted in a way that still makes it hard for me to tell what kind of emotions she's going through at the moment.