The Butcher of the Bay Part II - J. Bree Page 0,69

the side.

"On your feet, baby. As pretty as you are on your knees I need that pretty pussy wrapped around me tight as you come."

I practically scramble up and then he moves me over to the kitchen table, spreading me out across the surface and splitting my legs wide so I'm splayed out for him. Then he unzips his pants and grips the base of his dick, pumping it once, twice, three times until I'm begging him to use me. Use my body and give me everything he has.

Even after he slips a condom on, the piercing feels like heaven as he pushes in, dragging against my most sensitive walls and making me see blinding white light as I come, squeeze him tight. He grips my hips tighter, pulling my body further over the edge of the table until I'm balancing between his hands and the table precariously.

I don't feel unsteady, I feel safe and used as his hips move faster until he's pounding into me, abusing me in the most delicious way and when he comes with a roar it pushes me over the edge with him.

Chapter Nineteen

Illi

There’s still no leads for Alcatron and his cartel.

Night after night I go out looking for them but fucking nothing comes back. I’m starting to think that I’ll need to start calling in more favors with old friends, men who were built for blood and don’t like dealing with cartel at all.

Not my smartest idea but I need this list over with.

After yet another night of nothing, I order burgers to take home with me so my girl doesn’t have to cook. I could throw us together something but after my night I just want to shower, eat, and then fuck my girl, slow and deep and fucking hard, before passing out.

Neither of us are sleeping great and I know exactly what the cause is, besides Alcatron being a fucking ghost.

The paintings are killing me.

Killing the mood too, I can’t look at them and contain my rage enough to fuck her right. There’s no way I’m undoing all the progress she’s had by throwing her around the fucking bed and terrifying her, no matter how badly I want to push her around and make her beg for me. I can see in her eyes that she’s ready for whatever I give her but… something has me holding back. She’s not all the way there yet, no matter what she says to me.

If she flinches away from me right now I might fucking lose it, rage out and take to the streets with nothing but my cleavers and an insatiable need for blood.

Not worth it at all.

When I get back to the apartment I punch the code into the alarm, kicking the dirt from my boots and taking the stairs two at a time. I pause at the top, the sounds of music drifting through the closed door.

She never listens to music.

I unlock the door with the bag of food under my arm and a gun in my other hand, ready to unload my clip on whoever is in this fucking apartment with her if it isn’t one of my three friends. Can’t be any of them, I just saw the bikers and the kid is up at that big old school of hers.

No one is here.

But my girl is dancing around the kitchen wearing one of her new dresses, the skirt billowing out as she twirls and sings along to the song in French. Her hair is out, the blonde curls looking that ruffled sort of perfect she always manages to get it, and her feet are bare.

I quickly move to grab my phone and snap a photo but it comes out blurred, she’s moving too quickly to capture this moment for me.

Fuck.

I need this burned into my brain for all of fucking time because she’s perfect, every fucking inch of her is shining and joyful and just fucking happy.

My girl is happy.

She spots me as she turns again, lifting a long strand of hair away from her face as she beams at me like my own personal ray of brilliant sunshine. Fuck, I want to soak up those rays of hers, the heat and light of her exactly what my dark soul needs.

“Bonjour, mon Monstre.” She says, a flirty smile dancing around the corners of her lips. She stalks towards me, her hips swaying along with the music and I nearly go down to my knees for her. Just fucking drop