Fractured Souls - Page 40

“We’ll fix you up, mishka,” he says through gritted teeth and pulls my face closer. “We will piece together every broken shard, I promise you. And then, we’ll fucking annihilate the bastards who hurt you.”

I crush my mouth to his. I don’t think I’ll ever go back to who I was before, but I don’t tell him that. Only kiss him.

Pasha’s arm circles my waist, and he rolls us until I’m on my back with his body looming over mine.

“Okay?” he asks, and I nod.

“Just kissing, and nothing else, Asya. Remember?”

When I nod again, Pasha slides down, his mouth landing on my collarbone and trailing a line down the center of my chest to my stomach. His hands roam over my arms, my sides—his touch slow and featherlight.

“No one will hurt you ever again, mishka,” he whispers as he moves down my body, his lips covering every inch of my skin—down my right leg, then my left, all the way to my feet. As he shifts back up, leaving a trail of kisses along my inner thighs, that dreadful voice whispers inside my head.

You are disgusting. I don’t know how he can stomach putting his mouth on something as filthy as you. The only thing you’re good for is being fucked without mercy. You don’t deserve any better.

I squeeze my eyes shut and move my hands down my body, pressing my palms over my pussy. Pasha’s mouth stills on my hipbone.

“Baby? Do you want me to stop?”

I shake my head. “Please don’t,” I whisper. “Just not there.”

“Okay. I won’t do anything that will make you feel uncomfortable.”

“It’s not that,” I say.

Pasha moves up my body and takes my face into his palms. “Give me your eyes, Asya.”

I open my eyes to find him looking at me with concern. I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve him.

“What did I do wrong?” he asks, and I feel the tears gathering in the corners of my eyes.

“You did nothing wrong,” I choke out. “I just don’t want your lips there.”

“Why, baby?”

“Because . . .” I shut my eyes again and squeeze my legs together. “Because I’m dirty.”

I feel the kiss land on my lips. “There is nothing dirty about you,” he says. “You are the most beautiful, pure thing I’ve ever encountered, Asya”—another kiss—“and I will erase every bad memory you have, if you’ll let me.”

The tip of his finger traces along my eyebrow. “Please?”

“Okay.” I nod.

Pasha takes my hand and places it on the back of his head. “Grab and tug it.”

I bury my fingers in his hair and grip the silky strands.

“Harder, mishka,” he says and nods when I do. “Good. I want you to do that the moment you want me to stop. Deal?”

“Yes”

He kisses my lips again before moving his mouth lower, to my chin, my neck, across my collarbone and over my breasts to my stomach, then he pauses. When I don’t do anything, he slides even lower until his lips reach my pelvis, and he waits again, looking up at me. He’s pausing to give me a chance to stop him, but I don’t. I take a deep breath and nod.

A kiss lands at the center of my folds. Then another one. A pause. Two more kisses, and I shudder.

“Asya?”

“I’m okay,” I mutter.