Running in the Dark

If you let someone in, you give them power. If you love someone, you give them the ability to break you beyond repair. I carry pieces of my heart with me as a reminder of how lies can maim, impair and break my soul.
— Bessina Darrow

“I know now that I was raped,” he loved that her voice hadn’t waivered, “and killing him won’t change the past, Trace. I want to move on, and I want to heal, and I want that healing to happen with you. Are you interested?”

He nodded in agreement. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was. She was his, for life.

Bessina smiled and slid across the car to straddle his lap. And just like that, his body tuned into her lush, warm body, and gone were thoughts of murder. He groaned and gripped either side of her hips when Bessina’s hands moved to the hem of her shirt. Slowly, she lifted the thin cotton tank until it was up and over her head.

Trace nearly choked on his words. “Damn.” Her pale blue bra and his shirt were gone next. Her warm hands caressed the muscles in his stomach and on his chest. He couldn’t believe she was doing this. She was not shy and demure as she’d first come across, but respectful and strong. And in this moment, she knew what she wanted.

He watched as she got rid of those little shorts and then started on her panties. Trace stayed her hand. “Those little white panties look so fucking hot on you.” He leaned in and took her budded nipple between his lips, drawing a small bead of blood. He lapped at it, losing himself in her rich taste.

Bessina scored her nails through his hair, ripping a growl deep from within his belly. She sat over his hard bulge undulating, warm and wet with need.

Trace lifted his hips to reach for his wallet and grinned devilishly when her head flew back as their cores met. He yanked the wallet from his pocket only to feel Bessina’s finger unbuttoning his jeans. Her warm hand wrapped around his length and he moaned long and loud.

His hands fell to either side of him and he looked down, watching as she pleasured him. His loud growls sounded in the car, drowning out all other noises. With each upward stroke, Trace lifted his hips chasing the carnal pleasure her hands wrought. He was so close he could feel it, and his body tightened and coiled. But when she twisted her hand over the head of his manhood, Trace nearly came in her palm. He wrenched away and grabbed her hand.

Her intense glare had him immobile as she spoke. “I want more,” Her voice was so ragged.

Trace pulled the condom out of his wallet and dropped it in the passenger seat. “You can have it all.” Her glossy lips turned into a sexy smile as his hand made its way between her legs. Pushing the soft fabric of her panties aside, he brushed his fingers along her damp folds.

Her head fell back as a sigh left her lips. “More.” She whimpered as she pushed her center down onto his fingers. “Please.”

Pulling his hand back, he worked on the foil wrapper. Why did he ever think this girl fragile or shy? Why did he believe that after her attack she would be ruined?

She watched him as he fitted the protection over himself then rose up over him. It was his turn to watch and she slowly slid down, taking all he had to give. Trace’s breath left him in a harsh breath as Bessina moved over him. Fire sparked in his blood as he met each of her slow, deliberate thrusts.

He moaned and begged as she moved faster and harder. Trace felt the first stirrings of his orgasm when Bessina leaned in and nipped his neck hard enough to sting. Wrapping his arms around her, he forced her to slow down, then guided her hips over him in long strokes. With one hand, he controlled the pace; with the other, he reached between them and tweaked her slickened bud.

Bessina came to pieces over him, her gasps muffled by his neck, her blunt little teeth nipped and bit at him. He pulled her back to face him. Her glazed eyes took him in. “Bite me again.” Without hesitation, she leaned in and bit his shoulder. Trace moved beneath her, his thrusts becoming sloppy, his words incoherent. The release blindsided him with force.

Trace reached for his coat and wrapped it around them, once again sending up a prayer. But this time, it had nothing to do with being a good man, and everything to do with having many repeats of what just happened.