far coalesced as heavy, urgent weight in my balls.
I wanted to come too.
And I was going to do it all over that pretty angelic face.
The thought blew the dam holding my climax at bay. I pulled out of Bea’s mouth as she groaned in protest, fisting one hand tighter in her hair to pin her in place and the other hard around my shaft. Three vicious pulls and I was coming, pearls of it landing on her smooth cheeks, glistening, swollen lips and small chin. I painted her in depravity and sin, glorying in my ability to do so, feeling like Satan must have when Eve took that first bite of the apple.
“Fuck, yes,” I growled and hissed as I squeezed the last of my seed from the head of my cock, then brushed it over Bea’s parted mouth.
With low lids and heaving breasts, she stared up at me like a fallen angel, dirty with my seed. I panted, hand still in her hair, the other braced against the wall as the water, now cool, continued to beat down my back, and I waited for her reaction.
That sweet, little tongue peeked between her lips then tentatively swiped through the cum glossing them so prettily. When she finished cleaning her mouth like a kitten, she raised a pink-tipped finger and collected a drop from her cheek. She studied it, head cocked slightly, rubbing it between thumb and forefinger, and then she ate that too, sucking the moisture from each finger like I’d seen her do once with a peach.
A shudder wracked my entire body, an echo of my climax.
“You taste good,” she told me in a fluttery, almost giddy voice. “You taste like I always imagined you would.”
“Killin’ me,” I told her as I leaned down to pick her up beneath her armpits and haul her easily into my arms. Her legs wrapped around me naturally, her ass cradled in my hands like she’d been made to sit there.
“Needed that,” I admitted reluctantly. “I hurt you?”
She nuzzled into my neck, then tipped her nose into my beard and rubbed it there, inhaling my scent. “Mmm, just enough, thank you.”
A hoarse chuckle left me. “Right. Got it that my Little Shadow likes it rough.”
“Only with you,” she agreed sleepily, settling into my hold as though she could sleep there.
A residual cramp of panic seized my gut, but I forced myself past it so I could turn off the water and get us out of the thickly steamed shower. She protested in an exhausted murmur when I tried to let her down to dry her with a fluffy orange towel, so I did a half-assed job of it with her in my arms still pressed to my dripping clothes.
By the time I carried her to her canopied bed, she was passed out, soft breath fanning against my throat. My arms convulsed around her when I thought about setting her beneath the pink satin sheets.
I didn’t want to let her go.
I didn’t want to leave the house the way I knew I should, and I definitely didn’t want to let her out of my sight now or ever.
She was mine, mine, mine.
I gritted my teeth as emotions bubbled and boiled in my gut. I didn’t know what to do with them, so I was helpless to act against them. Instead, I sat my ass on the edge of that girly as fuck bed and held my girly girl in my arms for a long time as she slept. The night outside grew darker, Sampson stalked into the room and curled up on a pillow with a little glare at me for stealing his mistress, and still, I couldn’t let her out of my arms.
She fit there.
She fit against my chest, in the space between my ribs, in the hole where there should have been a human heart. Maybe that was it—maybe she was my heart, living wrongly outside my body, and that was why I felt this way.
Like we should never be parted.
Like we should give in to our twin ambitions and stalk each other until the end of time.
Finally, when dawn peeked its pale forehead over the horizon, I made myself let her go. She slipped between the covers with a little murmur and a frown between her pale brows I smoothed with my thumb.
Then I found ways to stay in that absurd pink house with the vintage furniture and the girly décor. I cleaned up that fucking snowman cup, stared at Delilah