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I furrowed my brow, confused by this change of direction in the conversation. “What are you talking about?”
“I’ve always known that I didn’t deserve you,” August replied, shocking me. All this time, I thought he was unattainable. His status, my insecurities were keeping us apart. But the devotion in his tone and the determined way he looked at me made an impact on my soul. “And now I fear that I never will. I know you don’t want me to see you differently, but the truth is, it’s myself I’m finally seeing for the first time. Every single thing I’ve ever done wrong is like a never-ending list constantly running through my mind. I’m thinking of all the changes I need to make to be worthy of you. I’m thinking of how I can make this kingdom feel safe for you once again. It hurts to look at you, because now, all I see are the ways that I have completely and utterly failed.”
I shook my head, slowly processing his words. “I don’t want that.” He pressed his forehead to mine as I spoke softly. It was such a tender move that made my heart cautiously soar. “I don’t want your pity,” I whispered.
“It isn’t pity, Christine.”
“Then what is it?”
He reached for the towel and ripped it from my body, the chill in the air kissing my moist skin. “It’s rage. Vengeance.” He trailed his fingers over the curve of my breasts and pinched my nipple. “It’s fear.” He leaned in to kiss my neck, my eyes rolling back. “It’s jealousy. Fuck, it’s jealousy.” He shoved his palm between my legs, and I grinded against it. “Because deep down, I know Atticus would be better for you. Hell, even Leo could give you a better life.”
My breath hitched as I rocked against his palm.
“And it’s selfishness,” he rasped. “Because I don’t want to share, Christine. I want to be good enough.”
My stomach clenched as he kissed me deeply, and I closed my eyes to savor the feel of his sweeping tongue dancing across mine. He sucked tenderly against my bottom lip while I parted my legs, aching for him to slip his finger inside of me and fuck me with his hand.
“Look at me,” he commanded, abruptly ending the kiss with brutal words. I snapped open my eyes just as he thrust his finger in my pussy. “It’s my finger you’re clenching with your pussy, Christine.” He moved in and out, grinding his palm against my needy clit while locking his eyes with mine.
My mouth dropped open when he curved his digit, pressing against the deepest desire within me and coaxing a wave of pleasure forward. “Do you like getting off on my hand, love?”
I nodded, too overwhelmed by his touch to speak.
“Answer me with words, Christine. I want to hear how good I make you feel.”
“Yes,” I rasped.
“You’re so soft and wet. Look how you hold my hand, love. Such a romantic. We could take a stroll in the garden with your hot cunt on my palm and my finger getting you off. A nice fucking frolic like normal couples.”
I was fully aware of his hard cock straining against his pants and pressing against my thigh. I ran my hands down his chest and went to cup it, but he pulled out of me and slapped my hand away. “No,” he barked. “You’re not touching me. This is about you.”
He ripped off his shirt and picked me up. As I wrapped my legs around his hips, he kissed me deeply while walking us back into my bedroom and setting me down on the bed.
“This room smells like fucking Atticus,” he groaned in disapproval before thrusting my thighs apart and placing his head between them. His hot breath feathered over my center as he spoke. “Did he touch you? Kiss you? Did he make you feel good, Christine?”
I squirmed a bit, uncomfortable by his line of questioning. August held me down, his fingers sprawled out over the tops of my thighs as he licked my slit, slow and steady. My whole being flooded with desire.
“Tell me he touched you, Christine. I want the truth.”
“Stop talking about him and lick my pussy again, August,” I demanded, making him chuckle.
His tongue slipped inside of me, and he moaned with pleasure, lapping me up and thrusting like he wanted to see how deeply he could taste me. I writhed, the concave hollow of my spine tingling with every expert move of his mouth.
“I want to fuck the soul from your body, love,” he whispered reverently before diving back in for my clit, circling it with his velvet tongue. I thrashed and my mouth popped open as filthy sounds filled the room. The wet slap of his mouth. My guttural, frenzied cries.
August was messy, wiping his face all over my pussy, and when I looked down at him, his cheeks and lips were glistening from my arousal. “August, I’m so close,” I rasped.
He flicked his tongue over my clit once more, and I felt the rising tide of pleasure, just within reach.
“Oh!”
And then he stopped. He fucking stopped.
I snapped up and stared down at him. “Why the fuck did you stop?”
“Why the fuck did you let Atticus kiss you?” He pressed his palm against my chest and slammed me down against the mattress. I landed with a little bounce and stared at the ceiling in frustration for a moment, tears welling in my eyes as I swallowed the anger burning in my chest.
The sound of August’s belt buckle made me sneak a peek at him, and when he jerked his pants down his thick thighs, I chewed on my bottom lip as I appreciated his long, thick dick and the bulging veins wrapping around it. He was hard as a rock, his cock bobbing freely. God, he was handsome. His muscles were perfectly defined, and I wanted to run my tongue over every groove. My mouth watered, and I suddenly wanted to reach for his dick and slide it down my throat.
