Mark of the Damned | 18+

Song to the Siren

Song - Song to the Siren by Sinead O'Connor

The cold that has settled into my bones is almost unnoticeable now that we're face-to-face inside my small room.

"Take this off," he says, running his finger along the ruffled edge of my chemise.

My hands tremble as I slowly peel the material from my skin. I've never been naked in front of a man. My heart is pounding so hard against my chest, I'm sure he can hear it. I can barely breathe.

His eyes are dark and hooded, swirling with an intensity that makes my knees wobble. As his hand comes up to touch my skin, I feel flushed and breathless but also full of excitement. So far, every time he has touched me, he has made me feel good. He makes me feel wanted and seen.

I don't know what is about to happen, but I'm anxious for it, whatever it is.

"So soft," he mumbles as he cups my breasts in his hands and rolls my nipples gently between his fingers. I can't hold back the whimper as he does this. I never expected a simple touch to feel so good. My body trembles, and everything pulsates with nervous energy. Between my legs, I feel distinctly wet and warm. My heart is racing, and my head is hazy. It's like I can't see past him. I'm lost in his touch, in his warmth, in the look in his eyes.

I let my gaze move down over his face, over his hard chest and stomach, stopping at the hard bulge pressing against his pants.

His slow, steady breathing makes me feel unusually calm. I feel the anticipation of what is coming, but I'm not afraid. Remembering the motions of his hand from the morning, I reach out, the tips of my fingers touching him.

A low, rumbling growl from his throat makes a shiver run down my spine.

"Take off your pants, I want to see you."

With my eyes glued to his, I push them down, off my hips, and to the floor. Everything is shaky. My hands, my knees, my breath.

When he begins to tug at his own pants, I let myself look, watching as he lets them fall to the ground. Just like this morning, he's standing up, rigid and swollen, hanging between us.

"W-What now?" I bite into my lip. The achy feeling between my legs is growing. Is he going to touch me again?

"Eager?" He smiles, but there is a depth to his voice that isn't normally there. A low rasp that makes the ache worse. "Come here," he holds one hand out while gripping himself in the other hand, just like before.

When I slowly place my hand in his, he pulls me forward, our bare skin touching everywhere. He's so warm. I feel him pressing against me, hard and soft, wet and hot. My wet hair and naked body should be half frozen, but the heat radiating from him wraps around me like a blanket.

He drapes his arms around me, holding me to him as he brings his lips down to my shoulder. His soft lips kiss and suck a trail across my chest, up my neck, and over my jaw to my lips. He starts to move his large hands over my naked body, running the tips of his fingers over all of the places that are too indecent to ever be exposed to anyone. Yet, here we are together.

"Cooper, can you- will you touch me, please?" I'm not even sure exactly what I'm saying, I just need this hot, rising, aching, tingly feeling to go away. It's making it hard to breathe.

He growls and grabs my chin, forcing my face upward. His eyes are so dark as he studies my face. It's like he's waiting for an answer to a question he didn't ask. His eyes move from mine to my lips, then back up.

Without a word, he lifts me off the ground, gripping my thighs tightly. When I wrap them around his waist, he rubs between my legs, and the single moment of friction causes a moan to slip past my lips.