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I pull myself away and tread over to her bedroom. I assume it’s hers because there is no crime tape draped across it. Again, nothing particularly remarkable. A queen bed with unmade sheets and a rumbled comforter. A nightstand with more books and empty coffee mugs. I slide open the nightstand drawer and chuckle, pleased at my discovery.
“That’s my naughty girl…” I pull out a black vibrator wand and a smaller bullet vibe. My dick is immediately thickening as I imagine her laid on this bed while using these on herself. I already know how she looks—all flushed and wanton—when she pleasures herself, so it’s an easy image to conjure.
I spot a pair of black-lace panties on the floor and pick them up. Sniffing the crotch, I moan at the leftover scent of her cunt. I wonder if these were the ones she wore the night I first felt how fucking wet she gets for me. When I dragged my fingers through her hot pussy, telling her to make me stop but she never did.
Fuck.The memory makes my cock strain against my zipper and heat snaps in my core.
I take another hit from the panties and hurriedly unzip my pants. I sit on the edge of her bed and fist my cock. Not even present, yet she’s still able to wind me up to this raging knot of carnal need. I can’t stand losing control like this. I can’t stand this tension either, though, so I fall back on the bed and don’t stop.
I imagine each stroke of my hand is her hot, wet mouth taking me in. I squeeze my eyes shut and paint a picture of her blue eyes, big and round, looking up at me as I tell her to relax her throat and watch as they fill with tears the deeper I get.
“Good girl, hold still for daddy,” I moan into the empty room, thrusting up into my fist as if I’m fucking her mouth and making her take every inch. She’s so pliant, so obedient, it makes my dick leak and my abs contract.
“Don’t stop, baby, you’re doing so good,” I plead to a ghost and wave my hand around the bed looking for the wand. Turning it on, I hold it to the base of my shaft and my whole body tenses at the tortuous, buzzing sensation. I don’t last long after that, coming hard and violently into the black lace.
I stay on my back, breathing heavily and staring up at the unmoving ceiling fan that desperately needs to be dusted. With each rise and fall of my chest, I repeat the same thing over and over in my head:
I’m so fucked.
1.Tick Tick Boom (feat.BygTwo3)—Sage The Gemini, BygTwo3 | SummerOtoole.com/Playlists
Chapter seventeen
Mr. Tiny Willie
Harlow
“Goodmorning,a chuisle.” His voice is silky with a slight morning rasp. My belly squeezes, remembering the way that same voice grew deep and anguished as he spilled his seed, moaning my name. I sit down at the kitchen counter, and he slides a hot mug of coffee across the island to me.
“Where did you run off to last night?” I sip the coffee, clasping the warm cup between both hands. His hair is mussed from sleep, and gray sweatpants are slung low on his hips. I make a concerted effort to keep my eyes on his face and not traverse the canvas of his exposed abs.
“I liked your natural hair better.” His lip curls.
“Excuse me?”
“You dyed it dark for me, no?” His cocky grin makes me want to throw the piping-hot liquid on him.
“Don’t flatter yourself.” I scoff.
“Oh, baby, you do that all on your own.” He rests his elbows on the island and leans forward to tug on the end of the long braid I slept in. He smirks. “I like it long like this though, no matter the color. Gives me something to hold on to.”
“Are you ever not thinking about sex?” I toss my hair behind my back and out of his reach.
“Rarely.” He pushes off the counter and opens the fridge. The ghoulish skull covering his back stares at me. My eyes trace the defined plates of his muscles down to the long scar etched through the inked skin.
“How did you get that scar?”
“Jousting tournament,” he says with a straight face, and I can’t help but laugh.
“Ah, yes, my knight in shining armor.” A calming warmth settles into my bones with this light banter. It feels…almost normal, domestic. He curses as he pulls charred bread out of the toaster. Could this be my reality? Flirty chatter over breakfast with bedhead and burnt toast?
“Though, I’m pretty sure the knight is supposed to rescue the princess from the tower, not be the one locking her up.”
“Why not both?” He talks as he rounds the island to my side. “I locked you up to keep you safe, but now that the Russians are out of the picture—”
“Wait, what do you mean the Russians areoutof the picture?” My mind instantly conjures the image of Beth’s family photo at her graduation. Her parents and grandparents and Uncle Ivan stand around her, all beaming with pride as she holds up her diploma, her grad cap sitting askew on her head of blonde hair. “Are they—”
“I didn’t kill them, if that’s what you’re worried about—at least no one important.” He gives me a look like I’m wasting his time, but I’m still wrapping my head around the casual murder admission because it was “no one important.”
