down my pants. “It might be tiny, but the fucking thing has feelings.”
Goliath frowns at my wording, but then his gaze warms when I lift my shirt and show off my stomach. “Kiss your baby,” I instruct as I sit on the bed.
Offering me a little smile, he kneels down and plants a wet kiss on my belly button. His tongue takes over, making this affection completely inappropriate for a kid. However, I very much approve of his hands on my hips and his gentle bites along my waist.
“I’ve changed my mind again,” I sigh once I free my breasts, and his lips find my left nipple. “I’m ready for your big dick.”
Grunting, Goliath wraps his arms around my waist as he goes wild on my tits. I stroke his head, offering tenderness against his rougher touch. Not that I want him to change. Still, I always suffer pain in my chest when I think of him growing up with a bitch mom. Did she cuddle with him? Did she hold him when he cried? No matter the truth, I always imagine him left to himself too much, which makes me want to smother his giant ass with all the love he missed out on.
My mothering instinct gets overwhelmed by the sheer force of his giant dick making me come. I forget to cuddle or be gentle. I yank on his hair, claw at his arms, say some weird shit about cupcakes, and just go stupid under him.
Sexually satisfied, I stretch out and admire his powerful body in its element. Goliath never seems larger than when he’s thrusting his big dick into my body. His ripped arms flex as he moves faster. He’s so sexy when he gets close to finding the kind of relief he already provided me.
Goliath hides in his head when he fucks. His eyes are closed as he’s propped up over me. Then just as he’s about to come, he opens them and really sees me. The look in his eyes screws with my heart a little. I instantly want him to need me. Not tolerate my presence for the fucking, but really need me. I want to exist for him like no other woman can.
Except as soon as he comes, I get the feeling that he wants me to leave. I don’t, of course. I remain stretched out on the bed and refuse to move. Goliath is relaxed nearby, but he might as well be in a different room. There’s no cuddling, no warmth. The sex is over, and he’s done with me.
But I refuse to leave. He’ll have to physically kick me out if he wants me gone.
“River is my sorta step-cousin,” I say when the silence gets oppressive.
Goliath’s gaze remains on the ceiling when he asks, “Cousin?”
“His mom and my dad were stepsiblings. Their parents broke up. So they aren’t stepsiblings anymore. But he’s family without being blood-related, and I don’t fuck family.”
“Do you want to fuck him?”
“No. If I did, I would have before he fell for Max. He would have nailed me, no doubt. He was such a slut before he met his woman.”
“Don’t shame him for wanting what he wants. Fucking feels good,” Goliath says, shooting me a frown.
“I shame no one,” I lie. “Did you think that was a dig at you?”
“Nomp.”
“Because you are a slut, right?”
Goliath swallows hard, and I sense he’s considering whether to speak up. Finally, he says, “I used to tell Swamp Thing that I never loved fucking as much as I did killing. He’d put off hurting an asshole, so he could get laid. Said coming was more important than going. I like fucking, but killing an asshole feels more important. I can get off any time I want with my hand. It’s not like I can take a life every morning, though. But Swamp Thing claimed I would run out of people to kill. That was before he got fucked by Fuse. He might have changed his mind in prison about that fucking-versus-killing thing.”
Listening to Goliath talk, I’m struck by something so obvious that I feel like a damn dunce for never picking up on it before. I knew he was angry over the Skullz screwing him. I understood his distrust of the Reapers, even though I figured he needed to get over that shit.
But I completely missed how he was grieving his friends. To me, Swamp Thing and Grabby were the bad guys. We ended their lives without a second thought. But