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What, does this man have some fucking hero savior complex?
“I’m glad he helped get you away,” I say sincerely. Really, I am. There’s not a lot of men in this world who would go to the lengths Mako does to get them away from an abusive relationship.
She smiles at me shyly. “And now he’s helping you.”
I quirk an eyebrow. “I’m not telling Ryan that I fucked his brother.”
Even though I came close to doing exactly that.
Red blooms across her cheeks, her face turning into mortification.
“That wasn’t what I did.” She laughs nervously. “When I broke it off with Ryan, I decided to have Mako there in case Ryan tried to attack me. And that’s exactly what happened. Mako stopped it and Ryan made assumptions. And well, neither of us corrected him, to be honest. It was an easy out after that. Ryan looked at me as if I was the Bubonic Plague, and just like that"—she snaps her fingers— “he no longer wanted anything to do with me. I was free.”
Huh.
Maybe I could’ve taken that route into consideration if I hadn’t done what I did already. That probably would’ve been a lot less messy.
“I don’t think Ryan’s going to be an issue for me anymore,” I say distractedly, my stare far away as I picture a scene in front of me—Mako dressed in white armor and deflecting Ryan's punch with a sword. It’s comically arousing, to be quite honest.
“What do you mean?” Her question draws me back to reality. It takes my brain a second to catch up, and even longer to process the question. What does she mean, what do you mean? “Why wouldn’t Ryan be a problem anymore?” she prompts when I stare at her with confusion.
Ah, fuck. I said that out loud.
My heart pounds as I try to figure out how the hell to answer this. Do I say Ryan left me for his secretary? No, she’d never believe that. Ryan doesn’t just let go of his possessions, even when he has grown tired of them. Keeping his victims under his trap means less of chance of us coming out and ruining his reputation.
Funny how he was so scared of me ruining his reputation when he set himself up for that all by himself. Scorned women don’t forget.
“I killed him.”
You dumb bitch, River.
I close my eyes in resignation, frustrated that I can’t keep my trap shut. I need to tell her that was a lie. I didn’t mean it—I only want to. She’d understand that, wouldn’t she? Yet, something inside of me doesn’t allow my mouth to open and take it back.
I keep my eyes closed, waiting for the bombardment of questions and hysteria, maybe a few why would you do that-s and you must confess-es. The last thing I expect is to feel soft lips brush across my own. My eyes pop wide open in astonishment. And there she is. Her sweet little face—so close she looks like a cyclops—angled opposite of mine as she kisses me softly.
I don’t respond right away, instead staring at her conjoined eye as I try to process that Alison is actually kissing me. She peeks open an eye—or maybe both, I can’t tell—but doesn’t pull away. I like that she’s bold enough not to pull away. I like that she’s waiting for me to register the kiss first before I decide how to react. And I like that she’s kissing me.
Gently, I kiss her back, moving my lips against hers sensually. Eyes locked in a strange, intimate gaze, our lips explore slowly. Something like relief makes her eyes droop, and just like yawning after someone else, my eyes start to fall, too.
Within seconds, both of our eyes are closed tight as our mouths grow bold. The first touch of her tongue against mine feels like satin on fire. Her hands slide into my mane of curls while one of my hands wrap around the back of her neck and beckons her closer.
It feels different. Good. Amazing, actually. Unlike anything I’ve felt before. I won’t dare compare it to the feelings Mako elicits in my body and soul. No, not when this feels amazing in a completely different way. It doesn’t feel like two souls colliding and falling in love—it feels like healing.
I make the first move, pushing it to see how far this will go. My hand grips her thigh, pausing for only a moment before slowly travelling upwards until I meet the juncture of her hip. A soft moan reaches my tongue. I almost smile in response. The notion is completely wiped from my thought process the second I feel her hand slide down my chest and cup my breast.
My nipple instantly tightens into a sharp bud, and that’s all the encouragement both of us need. Everything happens quickly. Our clothes are thrown off in a rush, and my naked body is sliding atop hers. Our hands are touching everywhere, silk undulating against silk as the passion starts to overwhelm us.
She flips me over, surprising me with her dominance. Her soft body slides against mine, and I relish in the feeling of her skin against mine. The ends of her hair tickle my shoulders as she leans over me. She leans down and softly kisses my lips once more. The kiss doesn’t linger. Her lips move down my chin and neck, licking and sucking as she travels further south.
She pauses long enough to lick at one of my nipples, enveloping the rose pink bud in her mouth. I moan, arching my back into her touch. With a pop, she lets go of my nipple and continues her path. Her pink tongue pokes out, the tip trailing along my flat stomach, dipping into my navel and finally to my pussy.
I’m not ashamed of how drenched I am. Alison is hot, there’s no denying it. When she settles between my legs, I lift up on an elbow, too fascinated by her to not give myself a full view. She peeks up at me through hooded eyes. Such innocence.
I never thought I’d use the word, but it’s the only thing I can think when looking down at her, mouth poised over my pussy. Beautiful. I’m taking back the meaning of that word and giving it to Alison Lancaster.
Because, fuck, she is beautiful.
The first touch of her tongue makes my head fall back. It’s tentative, warm, wet. It feels amazing, and I need more.
