Page 84 of Pretty Lies

Selfless of him.

“Yeah,” she breathed with a nod.

His hands twisted into the hem of the oversized T-shirt of his that she’d thrown on the night before when he asked, “And you like it.”

“Too much.”

Cory grinned and leaned in close; those hands of his dropped down to her bare thighs before flexing his fingers into her muscles to make her legs tighten around him more. The cotton panties she wore were nothing more than a thin barrier between her cunt, and the length of his erection under his sleep pants. “Me too, Della. I like all of this. That pussy. These curves. Your mess and your smiles. That sound you make when you’re close. I love it all. Lay back.”

One of his hands raced up her stomach, fisting the T-shirt again as he shoved her back to the countertop. Her hair fell over the side of the island while his grip tightened on her shirt, making the fabric bite against her skin. She was content to lose herself in the way he shoved her panties aside, too impatient to bother with even pulling them off.

His fingers stroked her.

Awakened her.

Every tease of his fingers inside of her or toying with her clit had Della squirming harder on the counter until those noises of hers that he swore to love so much were crawling out of her throat. She came harder than ever when he shoved his pants down and used the head of his cock to stretch her open—but only just the tip—while his fingers circled her clit all the way through the orgasm.

“Fuck yeah, so tight,” Cory groaned, his approval thick in his husky tone as he took his time sliding the rest of his cock in while Della caught her breath. His fingers splayed over her clenching stomach, pinning her in place when his deep, slow strokes started. Each snap of his hips came faster. Then harder. All at once, he slowed, Della couldn’t help but roll her hips into him, getting more of what she wanted when he wasn’t giving it to her. “God—this cunt’s mine, babe. That’s it, move that body and fuck me how you want. Show me how good that pussy looks swallowing my dick.”

Her hand slipped between their bodies when he started pounding into her again. There was something sinful about feeling her wetness on his length—how slick it was and how hot he felt under the tips of her fingers. She used her wetness to rub circles into her clit, desperate to chase another orgasm.

Cory urged her on.

All his dark words taking her higher.

He licked the taste of her pussy from her fingers after she’d come again. Her, trembling and shaking. Him, just barely getting started.

After he’d fucked her crazy on the counter, he carried her to the bathroom. She sucked him clean in the shower, let him fuck her again, and pretended like everything else wasn’t going to catch up with them.

Except it would.

Just not … right then.

Della was okay with that.

•••

Della’s tired stare drifted over her reflection in the pane of glass that overlooked the room just beyond her current position in the hallway. The air smelled of bleach and something else—something of industrial strength. Other than her eyes, one couldn’t tell that just yesterday morning, her brother had been murdered and here she was standing in a hospital morgue the day after. Every hair was in place. Her booted heels and dress were set off with a black trench coat tied at the waist and a matching bag.

Appearances were everything, and Della knew that. So while she didn’t put on makeup before leaving Cory’s place that morning, she still had enough of a mind to get a friend to drive her over something appropriate to wear.

She didn’t want to be here. Not standing in the sterile-smelling, gray hallway looking through a window at a room that sported metal cabinets, a tiled floor, and a drain right in the middle. The wall of cabinets at the far end was so clear in their square shape with small windows and white numbers on each.

The morgue wasn’t a happy place to be.

Della shouldn’t have been there in the first place, but in the mess of everything … someone had missed signing paperwork at the hospital. Her father was still with her mother while Frankie’s men scrambled to handle business. Della was the next of kin available to come down and sign whatever was needed with the lawyer who’d been available.

Except Cory wasn’t allowed beyond reception. Neither was the lawyer after they’d been signed in. She realized the paperwork said her brother’s body had yet to be moved.

Della couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Would I be allowed to see him?”

Had she really wanted to?

Could she handle that?

Alone?

And that’s how she found herself down in the belly of the hospital, standing in front of the window while she waited to view her brother’s body.