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Her whole body shifts, it grows suddenly cold, her eyes go blank, the spell broken.
I don’t linger.
I pull my dick out, get up and pull my jeans back on. I would offer my hand to help her up, but I know she’ll refuse me, so instead I go to grab the hoodie that I tossed to the ground.
Half of it is wet, and I suddenly feel an ounce of remorse. I turn to her to find her standing, watching me, uselessly trying to cover herself with her arms.
“It’s wet,” I say as I hand the hoodie back to her.
She shoots me a look filled with disgust and rips it out of my grip. She’s growing bolder—walls that hide her strength are cracking.
I grin.
She shoots me daggers with her eyes, turns on her heels, and walks back to the house with angry, heavy steps, without sparing a glance back to me.
I follow behind her through the woods, and when we reach the house she goes straight upstairs, ignoring the shit out of me. Good. The last thing I fucking need right now is to hash out whatever the fuck just happened outside. I can’t deal with it myself. I can’t deal with how fucking amazing it felt. How fantastic she felt wrapped around my dick.
Fuck.
It would have been different if I forced it out of her, if she fucking hated it. But she didn’t, not one bit. She looked like she hated herself more.
I feel like all the tension I was trying to work out earlier, when she found me punching the boxing bag, is back. But I don’thave the damn energy to go through that again.
I extinguish the fireplace, lock the door, and head upstairs.
— ‡ —
*BANG*
What the fuck?!
I wake up to this loud bang and shoot out of bed, ripping open the door and take three steps at a time as I run downstairs.
I’m raging and worried, and what I don’t expect to find is the shortstack of a siren, on her knees on top of the kitchen countertop, in the far too bright kitchen, looking at me with big, scared eyes, holding a pot that she pulled out of the top cabinet.
This is potentially the cutest fucking thing I have witnessed in my kitchen and I already hate myself for even thinking that.
I look at her, still on the countertop, then look down and see a pan that used to reside in that same cabinet. Walking over, I pick it up and set it on the cabinet next to her. I look up and she’s staring at me with shocked, bright green eyes. She’s wearing my, now dry t-shirt and she looks absolutely fucking delicious in it.
Grabbing the pot from her hands, I set it down as well and slide my hands under her armpits, pulling her down until she’s sitting in front of me. Her wide eyes drop down the center of my body before they settle low, and I follow them.
I’m stark fucking naked, sporting morning wood.
Looking up, I catch her lips twitch like she’s trying far too hard not to bite them. I grab her ass and pull her forward until my dick settles in between her legs, realizing she’s fucking naked under that t-shirt, my dick pressing on her bare pussy.
It feels like fucking home.
I grab the back of her neck with my other hand and pull her face to mine, but the cheeky siren stops me dead in my tracks when her small hand connects with my cheek.
She fucking slapped me.
A deep, menacing growl escapes my throat. I squeeze the back of her neck harder and she plants one hand on my naked chest, pushing me away. I look down at it, then I look at her, cocking my head.
I pull her ass, pushing her pussy harder onto my cock.
She does it again. One sharp slap across my face.
“Fuck this shit.”
