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Writhing beneath me, she shifts, trying to get more friction on her clit like the dirty little slut she is. “Kieran, we’re in your parents’ kitchen—”
I pry her ass farther apart, spitting again and slipping a third finger inside; she moans, loud enough that anyone on the first floor can probably hear, but I’m too far fucking gone to give a shit.
She relaxes her muscles, her ass finally stretching around me, and I quickly replace my hand with my cock; her juices drench me, making the entrance easier, and as my head pops through and I slide into the hilt, she lets out a low groan, the sound entirely animalistic and hot as hell.
“Oh, myGod.”
“Nope, not God.NeverGod. You know good and well who’s fucking you right now, kitten, so you’d better address me appropriately.”
“Yes, yes, daddy, fuck me.Please.”
Clawing at the counter as I fuck her into oblivion, she comes around me when I stuff my hand in her pussy, her body folding and molding for mine like she was made for me. “Ah, fuck, kitten. Your ass is too tight, I’m not gonna last.”
“I don’t want you to. Fill me ‘til there’s no room for anyonebutyou.”
“I haven’t done that yet?” My hips piston faster into her, my balls slapping against her pussy. I curl my fingers up, stroking her inner muscles, and feel her flutter around me again. “I swear to God, Juliet, if you’re even thinking of another man at this point I’ll knock you up right now. Tie you to meforever.”
Dragging myself out of her tight channel, I rip my fingers from her at the same time her orgasm crests, then stuff my dick into her pussy as my own rounds that same peak. White-hot electricity zings up my spine, setting my skin on fire as it shoots through me, and I thrust as deep as I can get, my cum painting her cervix as she spasms around me.
Sweat gleams on her shoulders, and I use the flat of my tongue to lap it up. She shivers, moving her head to the side. “You’re crazy, you know that?”
“I’ve come to terms with it, yes.”
“Would you really knock me up?”
There’s an unfamiliar thread of uncertainty in her voice, something timid I’ve never heard from her before. Even at her lowest, this is a girl who knows herself, even if she doesn’t always like what she sees or who she is. She’s always confident in that regard, never letting fear get in the way of what she wants.
I just can’t tell what she wants my response to be.
So instead of answering honestly and saying fuck yes, I’d knock her up if given the chance—because she’s just called me crazy, and having those thoughts after knowing her such a short time, regardless of my budding feelings toward her, certainly feels crazy—I just pull out and mention we should get ready for dinner.
It’s not until way, way later, after my parents walk in on us rearranging our clothes and drag us to dinner to pepper her with millions of questions about her life, when we’re lying in bed drifting off to sleep, that I start to worry about what happens to the earth without sunshine.
When the sun dies, the earth goes with it.
For the first time in my life, with the embodiment of the lifeblood to our universe cradled in my arms, I find myself praying the sun sticks around.
Chapter 25
Juliet
Carter pulls a mini flask from the breast pocket of her navy pencil dress, offering it to me as we move through the reception line. I hiss under my breath, shoving her hand flush against her chest. “Have you completely lost it? Put that away before Father O’Leary sees you. Or worse, someone fromThe Gazette.”
The whole of King’s Trace is out in full force for month-old Noah Montalto’s christening; cars are parked on the usually tailored lawn of the St. Francis Cathedral, one of about a dozen Catholic churches strewn about within the county lines.
Considering what he does for a living, it’s hard to imagine my brother-in-law has much attachment to the institution itself. Butmafiosoare bound by a code of ethics us mere mortals can’t quite comprehend. Slaves to their blood loyalty, monsters by design and forced submission.
Pouting her pillowy lips, Carter stuffs the flask back inside her dress and pokes at my chest. “Why’d you wear such a slutty dress to your nephew’s church service?”
An elderly couple a few steps ahead of us pause, the wrinkled old woman turning her turkey neck to shoot us a dirty look.God, this town is the worst.I elbow Carter in the side, and she winces, her breath wafting over my face. My nose scrunches up, the scent of alcohol far too pungent for the little sips she claims she’s been slipping since Benito dropped us off.
“My dress isn’t slutty,” I say, running my palm down the white lace; it’s an old number I dug out of Caroline’s closet and made her cry when she realized she couldn’t fit into it any longer. The neckline plunges between my breasts, emphasizing the golden locket against my chest, and flares out around mid-thigh, too short for church but long enough that Elia didn’t mention it.
Of course, maybe he didn’t even notice. He’s been away a lot more often and falls asleep in his coffee sometimes at breakfast, apparently taking on a huge workload in preparation for a “long ass family vacation,” as my sister put it. Who knew ripping the underworld’s king from its meaty claws would be such hard work?
Not that it’d have mattered if hedidmention it, because my father he is not. I can only deal with one controlling asshole at a time, and the sex god that occupies my bed and my thoughts almost every night is more than enough for me right now.
Maybe even forever.That familiar twinge pinches my stomach, and I try to focus on regulating my breathing.
