WARNING: Mature for sensual/graphic scenes.
No one else knew about the scar.
No one else knew that it had been created from desire, and not from pain like the rest of them. How could it be a reminder of a good memory? It had to have been caused from a passion-filled fight, didn't it? Just like all the rest.
They had all just assumed that he had gotten all of his marks from battles. What else would one of them have been from? The South had been deadly, so it was a completely realistic and sensible explanation that he had gotten hurt so many times. There was no other logical cause besides that of what he had gotten his scars from.
From war. From rogue newborns that were getting out of control. Maybe even as some type of punishment from Maria.
They never had guessed that the cause had been something completely different.
She moaned in pleasure, her back arching, pressing her body further against his chest. His hands played against her, lighting tracing the form of her bare hips as he pushed deeper into her. They moved lower to cup the luscious curve of her form.
He liked the sound of it; of her pure satisfaction.
Her head rolled back against the pillow, and she desperately clawed at the sheets as his pulsing movements became faster, steel against steel inside of her. His rapid panting breaths shot at her face, the sweet scent the only thing keeping her ground to earth.
Pulling himself out of her opening, is tongue began to lightly trace across the center of her chest, her small, perfect breasts rubbing across his face as he did so; her nipples hard against his cheek. He ran a finger over one in satisfaction.
Her naked frame fit perfectly against his as she forced herself further against him, the juice of her body trickling down his side.
His chest heaving, he pushed his hard flesh back into her body, forcing her to start convulsing in a heavy orgasm below him. Her fingers moved up to his hair, clutching onto his golden locks as he pulled slightly away from her, lingering in the air over the pixie goddess.
The strong emotions of bliss and joy and leisure and delight burst from both of them, keeping each other going; renewing each other's energy in an endless cycle.
Finally, he rolled off from on top of her, but she wouldn't have the separation. Moving back to their original position, she heaved herself onto him, and began sucking at his skin, lingering at his erection. She made her way upward, past his chest, finally making it up to the nape of his neck.
Everyone had assumed that he had gotten all his scars from fighting. From battles. From
She wasn't sure she'd ever really know why she did what she did. Maybe it was just a spur of the moment lust he threw at her. Maybe it was the fact that she wanted to do something spontaneous. Maybe it was just the fact that she had the sudden, plain, pure urge.
It didn't really matter, because either way, no matter the reason, at that moment she bit newborns. From vindictive dictators.
An overzealous wife?
The thought never occurred to them.
And each hoped to God that it never would, because of one main thing:
Emmett.
14. Not all of his scars were the result of hate.
Special shout out to DarkestMorgaine! This chapter wouldn't have happened without you!