Daddies Taste Better
Up close, the damage was really bad with his lip split, cheek bruised, and a shallow cut along his jaw that looked like it came from a knife or something sharp.
His shirt was also torn at the shoulder, revealing more ink and what looked like the beginning of another bruise blooming across his collarbone.
“This is going to sting,” I muttered, tearing open a wipe.
He didn’t flinch when I pressed it to the cut on his lip. His eyes stayed locked on mine the entire time, like he was trying to figure out what game I was playing. I cleaned the blood carefully, dabbing at the split with gentle but steady pressure. The silence stretched between us, broken only by the soft rustle of gauze and our brea