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In the evenings we make dinner or get takeout, and then typically debate the pros and cons of Deimos actually buying more furniture for his loft. On the plus side, well, more furniture. In the minus column is the far higher chance of me breaking my neck or smashing my shin on something when he turns off the lights and chases me like a psychopath.
Not that I’m complaining about the chasing.
A lot of other stuff has happened in the last four weeks, too. My mom has decided to stay in London for the time being with Celeste and Adrian, which I’m very happy about. She seems better, too—in a real way, I mean, not a hiding and pretending way. She’s still obviously in a lot of pain about Gerard, but Celeste says she’s sleeping more regularly, and even eating here and there, so that’s good.
The biggest thing that’s happened though, of course, is everything that went down with Castle and Callie. Who are now, very officially and very publicly, an actual couple.
I mean,duh. Like anyone with half a brain didn’t seethatone coming a fucking mile away.
It—whatever “it” is with Deimos and I—isn’t conventional. It’s not perfect, either, and for all the walls we broke down between us that night, there are obviously still more of them that are still firmly up.
There’s still something unspoken about what happened before, back when we were at Knightsblood. It comes and goes. At times, it’s like this weird fever dream I try to forget—the smell of smoke, the bodies, the blood on his hands.
The threat on his lips.
Sometimes, it’s like it almost didn’t happen at all. But others, it hits me so hard that it steals the very air from my lungs. There are times I’ve woken up in a manic state in the middle of the night, freaking the absolute hell out that I’m sharing a bed, my body, and at least a part of my heart with the man who killed the one person I think who ever truly saw the absolute center of me.
Deimos killed Chase that night. There’s a decent chance I was in love with Chase.
Now I’m with Deimos?
What thefuckdoes that say about me?
* * *
“Oh my fucking God…”
Stars swim at the edges of my vision. My breathing is irregular, and my pulse roars in my ears as I collapse face-first into the bed. Behind me, Deimos groans as he slowly slides his thick cock from between my legs. I can feel his cum dripping out of me—which is a sensation I honestly can’t get enough of.
It’s actually—weirdly—one of my favorite feelings of all the boundary-pushing, knife’s-edge sensations he gives me.
I roll over, wincing. Then I twist, making a face as I glance down at my ass, which is still bright red and purpled with bruises.
“I will eventually need to be able to sit down, you know,” I groan.
“I disagree.”
I gasp when he reaches up and drags a finger through my pussy. When he pulls his hand back, I blush at the glistening white cum he’s scooped up. He crawls over me, and I shiver with anticipation when he teases his finger over my lips.
“Open wide.”
My lips close around the finger, my tongue licking his cum off it as our eyes meet.
“Good girl.”
I don’t flinch when I hear that anymore. I don’t shut down or freak out.
He’s changed those words for me. He’s slowly acclimated me to them over the last month.
I mean, if I were on edge, and he said them while grabbing the back of my neck, I’d probably freeze up. But he knows that, and he wouldn’t.
I grin as I lean over and kiss him before I slide out of bed. I grab the dress shirt he was wearing last night and slip it on like a robe before leaning over and kissing him again.
“I’m going to go make some coffee.”
It’s Saturday. I’ve got a study thing later with Eilish, and then I’m meeting up with Victoria, with whom I’ve gotten closer. Until then, I’m going to climb right back into bed with him.
But first, coffee.
