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Claire swallows, looking suddenly nervous. “You already know about one.”
“Yes.” I agree darkly. “And what’s left of him was buried below sea level and has probably been turned into shark shit by now.”
When she winces, I clear my throat, realizing maybe that was an overshare. “He deserved every bit of what happened to him in this life and whatever hell has the misfortune of receiving him.”
That gets her to soften, but I can tell she’s still nervous as she shifts on her feet, so I grab the body wash and pour some in my hands, letting her take her time. I motion for her to turn back around and this time, she does so without hesitation.
I’m massaging the soap into her shoulders when she speaks again. “There’s only been one other.”
I still with my hands on her, processing the information she just handed to me. I’ve never kept track of my body count—not the ones I’ve fucked or the ones I’ve killed—but it sure as hell surpasses one. Hell, combined, my body count could probably wrap around the moon, but I wasn’t ready to reveal either of those things to Claire yet.
I turn her back to face me, studying her face for signs that she’s just messing with me, but there’s nothing other than the nervous biting of her lower lip as she avoids my eyes and then shrugs. “I had a guy for a bit who was sorta like a boyfriend, I guess? It was… uninspired.”
All I manage is a blink, followed by what I imagine is a blank stare. “Uninspired?”
“Yeah. You know, very much ‘peg in the hole’, and call it done.” She covers her face with her hands and shakes her head, muttering something else that’s obstructed by her own fingers.
I nearly cringe at the description she just offered, but don’t want to prevent her from telling me whatever else is on her mind, so I suppress it and clear my throat. “Peg in hole?”
“Yes.”
I pry her hands away from her face, her wrists circled in my fingers, and force them down to her sides as I step closer to her. We’re pressed together now, skin to skin so that no air passes between us. Rivulets of water fall from overhead and cascade between us, pooling in the space where our bodies meet. Her nipples are hard against my skin, and my cock nestles against her warm stomach. “What does that mean?”
“Oh for fuck’s sake, Remy.” She laughs. “Do you need a diagram?”
I don’t think there’s a single thing that she’d look bad in, but I discovered the other day that red is a good color on Claire. And she seems to enjoy it as well, judging by how often she turns that lovely shade of scarlet, wearing her embarrassment like a badge. When I don’t say anything, she seems to understand I’m not relenting. “I mean it was very much ‘1940’s let’s consummate our marriage’ missionary.”
I can’t help laughing at that description. “Do you have something against missionary?”
“No…” She shrugs. “But it’s also a far cry from ‘just fucked in the blood of our victim and now we’re going to ravage each other’ missionary.”
There’s no remorse in her voice this time, though there is the slightest bit of hesitation in the silence after her last word, as if she wonders whether she should feel bad about what just left her tongue. “You liked it?” I ask cautiously, rubbing a circle on her wrist with my thumb. I shouldn’t ask her to admit to it one way or another. It’s fucked up to expect her to contend with those emotions at all, let alone in a moment like this. But I want to know. I need to know.
“I know I shouldn’t.” Claire swallows, pressing her lips together for a moment. “But yes. I’ve loved every minute of when we’re together… every dirty thing we’ve done, no matter how wicked and wrong.”
I’m not sure I’ve ever heard anything so insanely sexy. My cock responds in kind, jumping against her stomach. I’m about to make an excuse or apology or tell her why we’re damning both of ourselves to hell on earth as well as in the afterlife by continuing to play this game, but her hands grip my ass and before I realize what’s happening, she sinks to her knees on the shower floor and blinks up at me.
Instinct guides my hands to her hair, where I thread my fingers. I’ve been aching to be back inside of her from the moment I pulled out of her, but I am more than capable of taking care of myself. “You don’t have to do that.”
“You saw my own cum on my lips. Don’t you want to see yours there too?”
Fuuuuck.
Okay, that’s the new sexiest thing I’ve ever heard. And the answer is yes. I want to see that right now more than I’ve ever wanted a damn thing in my life. And Claire is happy to oblige.
I made her keep her eyes open when she came for me, so I do the same, looking down at the top of her head as she sticks her tongue out and laves at the underside of my shaft, her tongue flat and wet and warm against me. My balls tighten, and I grip her hair tighter in response, siphoning some of the tension out of me. I’ve been hard from the moment I started walking back to my room thinking of all the things I wanted to do to her in the time we agreed upon, and I know I can’t hold on long, my pride be damned. Just one lick is enough to fill me with heat, so when she wraps her mouth around my cock, stretching her pretty lips around me completely, I know I’m about to be a goner.
“Fuck, Claire.” I whisper, watching as she slowly works me in her mouth, taking me to the base before her tongue curls around me, her throat closing in protest. Not to be discouraged, she only retreats a little, releasing the suction but keeping her tongue on me so that her saliva drips from her mouth. When she re-doubles her efforts, she does it in one swift motion, pushing herself deeper onto me before letting her tongue swirl around my cock.
She’s the most delicious thing I’ve ever seen, and the only thing that could make her any more irresistible in this moment is seeing her covered in my cum. It’s a weird possessiveness I’ve never felt before, a kink I’ve never had time to care about since my relations are usually driven by need rather than straight desire. And yet, I have to force myself to stay still and let her explore, because if I don’t, I’m worried I’ll scare her off. Though if I’ve learned anything about this woman, it’s that she doesn’t scare easily.
She’s a marvel to watch, but I can’t do it anymore. I close my eyes when I feel the tip prod against the back of her tongue and hear the sound of her gagging on me. Some primal part of me—some wicked part of me—wants to use my grip on her hair to take control of her movements, but I suck in a breath instead and languish in her sweet hell, waiting for her to put me out of this beautiful misery.
I think she tries to say something, but it’s obviously obscured. Apparently, she never learned not to speak with a full mouth. I don’t care, whatever it is, because she picks up her pace, bobbing along my length, her lips wrapped firmly around me as my cock skates along her wet tongue, back and forth, building in intensity until I feel it building in me at a dangerous pace. “Claire—” I pant, struggling to slow it down, to give her time to figure out her next move. She was on her knees for me once already, in my office, and I stopped her. I don’t know if I can do it again, but I also don’t want to make her vomit as I’m pumping out my release. “Claire!” I try again, pulling away from her just the slightest bit.
To my surprise, she only tightens her grip on me, her nails digging into the skin of my ass as she practically swallows me in her throat. I can’t hold on anymore, and part of me thinks this is what she intended.
She reacts quickly, moving me off of her tongue just as streams of cum begin to spray out at her. She hasn’t pulled away from me entirely when her hand wraps around my shaft, encouraging the rest of my release. Thank God one of us is in control, because it sure as hell isn’t me. She works me with her hand, pumping me until I’m empty and she’s entirely covered in my seed—her neck, her breasts, her lips, which she licks clean, tentatively tasting what I’ve left on her.
