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“Fuck.” He pulls out of me as my climax claims me. “Fuck. You’re milking me, Three. Fucking milking me.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, watching him pull out and move to straddle my waist on his knees.
“Shut up.” He squeezes the swollen crown of his cock, taking one long breath. “Shut up, and cup my balls.”
His words are degrading. The thing he asked of me is what I’d consider kinky just a week ago. And I love it too. I love that he doesn’t treat me like a virgin, how he’s not holding back.
I obey him blindly, curling my fingers around the heavy sac.
“Harder.” He resumes his harsh stroking, his dark gaze never leaving mine. “Grab me fucking harder, Prue.”
I tighten my fist. His satisfied groan vibrates from his body to mine.
“Good girl.” A drop of sweat trickles down his temple to his locked jaw. “Good fucking girl, Prue. My little cum whore. You’ll be soaked with my orgasm. With me.”
I’m mesmerized by him, by the potency flowing from his pores. He’s everywhere, draining the room of air, filling it with him.
Then his forehead creases, his strokes becoming erratic. He calls out my name and does as promised. White, sticky cum shoots onto my breasts, collarbone, neck, and jaw.
On my lips, too. I lick it, tasting his saltiness on my tongue.
“Beautiful doesn’t begin to describe you, Three.” His sated smirk lights his entire face. “How gorgeous you look, painted in my seed.”
I feel it. Feel it down to my core. “Thank you.”
“Thankyou.” Theo’s hands trace his cum on my body, massaging it into me. Making me feel used and desired. “Your body. Your heart,”—he places a hand on my chest, softly, reverently—“this is everything I need.”
Scolding myself for being desperate and commanding myself not to cry doesn’t work.
I do. Tears pour out of my eyes, and I’m helpless against holding them back.
“You, on the other hand.” Theo swoops me into his arms, the sinewy muscles holding me close while he begins the walk to his bathroom. “You need a bath. And to start talking.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Theo
Brown,glazedeyessearchmine. They’re clouded by the aftermath of a full day of endless fucking, cuddling, and comfortable silences. Prue gazes at me, her warmth thawing the ice walls around my heart.
“Join me?” she asks for the tenth time, gesturing at the massive tub installed in my en-suite bathroom. “I wish I had one in my apartment, too. Then again, I’m not big on baths.”
She’s babbling. Floating. Ethereal even while she’s disoriented.
“I want this to be about you.” I kiss her forehead. The show of affection used to be foreign to me. Around her, it’s a goddamn compulsion. “Only you.”
My forearms are soaked, water and suds of soap dripping down my hands as I lift the sponge and run it across her shoulder. I’ve repeated the motion for the past thirty minutes, crouching naked beside her, tending to her.
She listened to me yesterday when I was supposed to be hearing her out. She stroked my old wounds when I should’ve been the one demolishing her demons.
But I couldn’t stop once she asked. I felt obligated to offer her full disclosure about the questions she had for me.
I couldn’t keep talking after that, either. I needed inside her, and I was. I bathed her, then fucked her, made love to her. Woke her in the middle of the night, my cock seeking and obliterating her sopping pussy.
Through soreness, I took her, while she constantly leaked my cum and her arousal on the sheets. I pushed every drop back inside.
I haven’t talked to her, though. I should’ve made time. Between endless touches, continuous searching, exploring each other, I should’ve been the responsible adult. Should’ve fucked her less, so I could learn more about her.
Because how am I supposed to protect her when I don’t know what scarred her heart?
