Scars (The Killers #5) - Brynne Asher Page 0,71

agree.

“Cole,” she calls for me, her beautiful tits rise and fall with her quickened breaths.

“Breathe deep. It’ll last longer. I could do this for hours.”

She tries to pull in a bigger breath as I grab her shin and lift her foot from the bed. She moans and, finally, I dip a finger into her pussy. It’s tight but my finger goes in smooth, so I add another, and my cock almost explodes with jealousy.

I can’t wait to bury my face between these legs, but next time. Right now, I don’t want to miss a second of this. I want to watch and burn it on my brain for the rest of my days.

Her legs start to tremble as she tries to bring them together. I don’t allow it. Putting more pressure on her clit with my thumb, I watch her pussy start to spasm around my fingers as I fuck her with my hand, and think my future is looking pretty damn bright right now.

Gasping for air, moaning for me and God—in that order, fuck you very much—her body is even more beautiful when controlled by me. Shaking and convulsing and arching, she presses her pussy onto my hand, and I’m forced to let go of her leg. I grab my cock and have never fisted it so hard. With her juices spread over me, I lean over her, hand by her head on my extended arm as I cage her in, and jack myself off. She opens her eyes and they move down my body, watching what she does to me—what she’s been doing to me for months.

Her hands aren’t timid when they land on my abs and move south. I can’t take my eyes off her face as her thin fingers trail over my fist, moving up and down my shaft. I’m holding off my orgasm as long as I can manage.

“Touch me,” I demand.

I need to take my own advice and breathe deep, because as her thumb brushes the head of my cock, I almost lose it. Even though I’m about to come, I unhand myself so hers can find me. It doesn’t take long—maybe I should be embarrassed—but after all the teasing, thinking tonight was going to be the night, learning her secret, and then making her come, I have little fight left in me.

I engulf her hand in mine and together we jack off my beloved cock harder than I ever have, all over her stomach and up to her tits. Making the best fucking mess I’ve ever made. And that’s saying a lot since I’ve been a literal mess my entire life.

She looks down at her chest as I spread it over her tits before lowering myself to her, my now semi-hard cock dangerously close to her no-man’s land.

“Kiss me,” I demand.

She doesn’t hesitate. Bringing her sticky hands to my face, she pulls me to her mouth.

There are moments you never want to lose, ones you replay over and over and over in your head. The ones that are so big and epic in your otherwise mundane life, you might give your left nut to erase time, go back, and live them all over again.

Every single first with Bella is like that.

Not that the ones following aren’t earth shattering. I am me and she’s the shit. Everything we’ve done together is fucking spectacular. We’re the grand finale on the Fourth of July, lighting up every inch of the horizon.

Until the real world went and fucked it all up for us.

Today was big. Outside of my parents, I’ve only told one other person on earth I love them and that’s Abbott. I’ve said it to Bella one other time, months ago when I begged her to come home with me. I was desperate, but it was the truth.

Desperation seems to be a taste I find on my tongue often lately.

After I made arrangements with Asa to have a twenty-four-seven tail put on Marie Kasey so she doesn’t end up six feet under, I about lost my lunch when we had to listen as Randolph fucked some woman he barely said a handful of words to when she showed up at his door. After a short time—as in really, really short—he kicked her out with her five-hundred-dollar fee and drank himself to oblivion. As much as I wanted to know more, there was only silence from the Senator.

The entire time, Bella didn’t say a word. She stared at the damn ocean for hours, her face blank

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