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A groan escapes from me. My breathing grows ragged and fast.
Her hand drifts lower. As I watch, her fingers work their way under the waistband. Her knuckles move against the fabric as her fingers find a rhythm.
Come seeps out the top of my cock. I spread it around and jack myself a little faster, a little rougher.
Her lips part and her eyes drop from mine to catch at my waist. My balls tighten in excitement. I wish those delicate fingers were wrapped around my dick. This is wrong, some part of the back of my head screams at me.
It’s not real, the devil whispers.
But it feels real. It feels as if she’s here just steps away, lying with her hand between her splayed legs, her tongue flicking out to touch the corner of her mouth wondering what I taste like.
She’d be soft. Everywhere. And she’d taste like…I lick my lips. She’d taste like heavy cream, rich and sinful.
I sit at that table, spread her legs wider and tongue her cherry until she is screaming my name. When she’s done coming all over my tongue, I slide right into that hot, slick sheath. I don’t last long. Three thrusts. Maybe four. It’s a blur of heat, slick skin, and friction.
The come spurts out of my cock. Seed smears on my stomach and trickles down the inside of my thigh. I’m a mess.
My sticky hand drops to my side. In my head, I’ve balanced my soul’s ledger by reminding myself that for all the corrupt wrong I’ve committed, at least I saved Bitsy. If I touch her, even once, even if she’s begging me, I’ll have betrayed the sole purpose of my life—to protect this one precious being.
Would I have taken her in, all those years ago, if I’d known that the greatest danger in her life would be me?
I look down at my already hardening cock with a miserable realization. Yes. I would’ve made the same choice fourteen years ago because my life is worthless without her in it.
My chin drops to my chest. Somewhere inside of me, I must find enough self-control to send her away—even if it destroys me.
31
Bitsy
When I first wake and hear the pained sound outside my door, I think he was injured. It’s always been my biggest fear.
I fly to the door. Hand on the doorknob, I stop when I hear my name. I crack the door open and see him sitting on the floor. His knees re slightly bent, but it is obvious what he is doing. His face is tilted back and his eyes are closed. His lips are slightly parted and the expression he wears is half pain, half ecstasy. I drop to my knees when I hear the first guttural sound.
He never once looks in my direction. I close the door so he doesn’t stop, but with the door shut, I find that the walls are both too thin and too thick. Thin enough that I can hear him groan but too thick to hear the slap of skin against skin as he sits outside my bedroom door and touches himself.
My imagination runs wild. Time and place warp as if I’ve fallen down the rabbit hole into some decadent fairy tale where Leka sits in front of me, hand curled around his massive dick.
His attention is pinned on me. A hungry, needy, anticipatory look is stretched across his face. I crawl over to him and brush his hand away. I use both hands to grip the shaft. It pulses in my grip. His hand comes down to tangle in my hair as I rub my cheek along the hard, throbbing length.
“Open up, girl,” he commands.
I part my lips and let the knob of his penis slip inside. I lay my tongue flat and let the whole length glide down the back of my throat. His hand comes up to palm the back of my head and hold me in place as he works the long, hot length in and out of my willing mouth. My own sex clenches in need. I drop my hand between my legs because tasting him, sucking him, fucking him make me instantly wet.
The wooden floor scrapes against my knees. My breasts hang heavy between us. My mouth is full because he’s big, so very big. It’s difficult to take all of him in, but I try. Leka palms my face with one hand and holds the back of my neck with the other. He’s groaning, whispering things like how hot I look, how he’s not going to last long because he’s wanted this forever. He dreams about it, he says, and every time he wakes up before he comes, but not this time. Not this time.
And then he can’t talk anymore because he’s too intent on shafting my mouth. I open wider, taking him all the way in, until I feel him in the back of my throat. The pressure is intense, incredible and it’s building on my tongue, between my legs, in my head until it explodes with a wet splash.
