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“I became my own hero, Atticus. I don’t need someone to save me. I need someone to love me.”
I grabbed the back of her head and slammed our lips together. She tasted like wine and divinity. Her sweeping tongue caressed my lips, begging me to open up to her. I crushed our bodies together and felt her dig the tips of her fingers into my chest. She moaned when I tugged at her silk pajama shirt, carefully unbuttoning it until her creamy skin was on full display.
I wanted nothing between us.
Her breasts spilled out of her pink silk bra, her rose buds poking through the thin material. I tore it off of her.
Christine moaned when I kissed her neck and shoulders and pushed her back against the windowsill. She wrapped her legs around my waist and let out a breathy sigh. Her lips were swollen and slick from our kisses. She rested her head back against the window and let her eyelids fall shut. I ran my fingers through her hair and savored the way her silky tresses slipped between my fingers. Christine gasped when I grabbed her ass and hauled her up higher. She let go of my waist and grabbed at my shoulders, digging her nails into my back. I growled into her lips and kissed her hard.
She forced my suit jacket off. Then pulled at my tie. I carried her to the bed and laid her down before unbuttoning my dress shirt as she slipped her shorts off. “Tell me,” she whispered, fire flickering in her gaze. “Did he suffer?”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” I asked, noting how she pressed her thighs together, waiting to hear my answer.
Her fingers traced her dusty pink nipple. “I would.” I watched her squirm, her thighs rubbing together as she tried to calm the ache between her legs.
Fuck. I knew she was perfect for me. This turned her on.
I nodded. “I made sure he felt every single ounce of pain.” She dragged her hand down her stomach and slipped it over her mound. “I had to make it look natural,” I said before kneeling at her feet. Christine was a queen. My queen. “So I found poison that wouldn’t show up in an autopsy. But it’s very painful.”
She tilted her head back and pinched her nipple. “Did he cry?”
“Sobbed,” I promised her. “Fat tears rolling down his cheeks.”
She sighed as I pried her legs apart so I could see her glistening pussy. So perfect. So tight and pink and wet. I knew everything there was to know about Christine. But I wanted to lick every inch of her skin. Taste her. Take her so deep I was fucking her soul. I wanted to know what she looked like swollen with my baby. With bruised lips from my mouth. With red handprints on her ass from me.
I wanted her existence to be so intertwined with mine that my obsession with her allowed me to learn about myself.
“His body shook and trembled from the pain. He was writhing. And just before he died—” I paused to thrust my finger inside of her. Her gasp was music to my ears. “I looked him in the eye, and I said, ‘This is for Christine.’”
I hooked my finger and caressed that deep need within her. She fucked my hand, grinding her needy clit against my palm while she imagined what I described. King Frederick begging for mercy. His weathered body shutting down.
“You’re perfect, Little Monster. Perfect for me.”
I started thrusting harder, watching her beautiful body ride my hand. I had the world at my fingertips. She was chasing that high. Seeking relief.
I bit down on the tender skin of her inner thigh, and she fought to stay still. I raised my eyebrow and slipped another finger into her cunt. The muscles in her stomach tensed as she rocked her hips. The harder I pressed, the harder she rode my hand. I pressed my thumb against her clit, rubbing the pebbled nub. Her eyes fluttered, and I watched her lips part. I was giving her everything she needed. I would give her fucking everything.
My fingers.
My mouth.
My cock.
I fucked my fingers into her soaking wet pussy and kept rubbing her clit, milking every ounce of pleasure from her. Her body shuddered and shook, her muscles contracting. I kept my thumb planted on her clit, my fingers buried deep inside her.
“You know why I love you, Christine Abernathy?” I asked as she bit her lip. “You’re not the perfect little rule follower. You demand your place. You claim.” She wrapped her hand around my wrist and squeezed.
“Fuckkkk,” she moaned.
Wet sounds filled the room. I could smell her sweet scent. Feel her squeezing my fingers.
“I love you because you want so much. You demand it all.” Her pussy clenched around my fingers. Tighter. Gripping. Her thigh muscles tensed up.
“I’m dripping from your touch. You’re perfect for me,” she rasped.
I kissed her inner thigh as she caught her breath. “You’re perfect for me, too.”
Her eyes were like an ocean, full of depth and endless. I swam in them, floating above the murkiness, knowing that she could hold me up.
