He cried out, his head thrown back as he chanted my name over and over as I rotated my hips and found the small bundle of nerves I had been looking for. His screams were music to myears as I pounded his prostate with each snap of my hips. I was relentless and wild.
I was staking my claim.
My little bird wasmine.
Forever.
He’d only leave me in death, and I prayed it wouldn’t be by my hand. Though I would if I had to. If it was the only way to keep him.
I’d been obsessed with him for too long. There was no escaping me this time.
“You are mine, little bird. You’ll never get away from me.” I watched in awe as his back bowed at my words, and hot, thick ropes of cum erupted from him as he came untouched. His reaction set off my own, and I emptied my load inside him.
I thrust my cock deep inside him, working us both through our orgasms until I was soft. As I slipped out, I leaned back and watched where we were connected, my cum dripping from his gaping hole.
Couldn’t have that. I dropped to the bed and thrust two fingers back inside, fucking my cum back into him. I’d marked him, in every way possible, as mine. While still finger fucking him, I leaned over and took Aiden’s soft cock in my mouth to clean him.
He was mine. That meant everything he was, belonged to me—including his cum, and I didn’t intend to waste a drop. As I worked my way up, lapping at the mess on his abs and chest, I reached into his drawer with my free hand and felt around until I found what I was looking for.
With a smirk, I went back between his legs and slipped the plug into his hole, sealing my cum inside.
Aiden let out a groan. “Fuck, that’s hot.”
“I aim to please,” I quipped as I leaned up and tugged on his tie to release his hands. I rubbed his wrists and placed a soft kiss on each of his palms.
“Was… was that okay?” I asked, hating how he made me feel vulnerable and unsure but wanting it all the same. He was the only one who could make me feel that way.
He reached out and cupped my face in one of his smaller, calloused hands. His smile reassured me more than any words could.
“I know you’d never hurt me, Nate.”
And just like that, I felt like I’d been doused with a bucket of cold water.
26
AIDEN
This case was going to be the death of me. It was beyond frustrating.
And on top of it, I couldn’t even concentrate if my life depended on it over the bombshell Nate had dropped on me during our dinner two nights ago. Then again, it wasn’t like we had much evidence in our case, so maybe it didn’t matter. At least at work, I could pretend my frustration was over the case and not my boyfriend.
I leaned back in my chair, tapping my pen against the metal of my desk, and stared into space. There had been a lot on my mind since Nate and I had our unusual anniversary celebration. He had shared a lot, and I was thankful he felt he could open up and trust me. I also felt I got some glimpses he hadn’t meant for me to see.
He didn’t want me to pity him, and I didn’t. But I did feel for him, because growing up is never easy. I couldn’t imagine being the way he was as a child and having an easy time in school. Kids were assholes, especially to other kids who were different. But I had a feeling he wasn’t the type to get bullied, that theymight have given him a wide berth because they didn’t understand him and were afraid of him.
That must have made things lonely. No wonder he said he didn’t understand people and relationships. People probably didn’t give him a chance. The thought made me sad, knowing how wonderful he actually was.
I marveled at the fact I wasn’t afraid of him. And I wondered if that was wise. The night of the wedding, he had choked me during sex, even if I’d ended up liking it. The anger he’d had at the club with the guy I’d been dancing with. At times, I’d felt someone watching me, and then him leaving the present. Him admitting he’d stalked me
There had still been those moments, flashes, when I felt uneasy around him, even if it never turned into fear.
Then again, it could just be because he was… a psychopath.
I hated that word, but it was the word he used to describe himself. While I didn’t know much about people with that condition, I knew they were good at mimicking people and it could leave people feeling uneasy around them. Some defense mechanism perhaps warning that it’s not real.
Not real.
The thought made me bolt upright. There was no way what Nate and I had wasn’t real. He was so intense I swore it bordered on obsessive. He couldn’t have faked all that, right? Especially once I knew the truth, there would be no reason to.
