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Leaving her every night this week after I made the both of us come was pure torture. Sleeping in a separate bed again is fucking unacceptable.
Now when we’re finally together, she can’t leave. Her dad hasn’t filed a report. The videos of me saving her haven’t made it to the news. There’s no reason for us to worry. No reason for her to be alone.
I shut down the impulse to demand, to usurp every aspect of her life. Me being the dominating side of our relationship doesn’t mean she’s my prisoner or my subject. I sure as hell am not a warden or a king.
I ask then, instead of demanding, “Why?”
The tension in Prue’s shoulders fades. Her lips curve up, and her arms and legs wrap around me and drag me to her. She’s relieved. And I breathe a little easier for making the right call.
“We have a mommy makeover surgery tomorrow, then we’re meeting prospective patients in the afternoon. Michelle, Dr. Waldron, always wants me to be a part of these consultations.” The enthusiasm in her is more prominent as she relays her schedule to me. “I have to be sharp and…”
She grazes her teeth along her plump bottom lip.
“And…?” My fingers massage her scalp as I pull her face close to mine.
“As much as I’d love to wake up to your…”
“My cock.”
“Yes, your cock,” she whispers. So fucking sweet. “Black circles under my eyes and yawning don’t fall under being sharp and presentable.”
Her subtle hint delivers the message. I don’t like it, regardless of how right she is.
“Is that an excuse?” I tease her, knowing full well it isn’t. “Or are you already bored of…”
I continue trapping her head in one hand, slip the other to her bare pussy and drag two fingers inside her.
“…this?”
Prue’s lungs empty as she gasps, her fingernails marking my bare shoulders.
“Hmm?” I graze her walls, pretending as though I don’t.
“Never bored of anything you do.” Prue’s heels dig into my ass. “I swear.”
“Of this, maybe?” I pull her neck to my waiting lips, biting then licking the wounded area.
“No,” she moans, playing along.
I’ll let her go, eventually. Just not that easy and not now.
My thumb rubs circles on her clit, pressing into the hardened nub.
“What about”—when Prue stares at me, I bend to bite her nipple through the shirt—“this?”
“No, no. You,” she groans, and I’m about to tear into her. “You know, Theo, you know what I mean.”
“I do.” Taking control of the situation, I twist my arm back and free the grips her legs have on my waist. I grab her hips with both hands, pulling her forward.
Her feet hit the floor, and I’m about to claim this one last round for the weekend.
While my gaze remains fixed on her gorgeous, floaty eyes, I swipe my arm across the counter. The takeout containers, food, and our water glasses clash and clang on the floor behind me. Liquid splashes on my pants.
I don’t give a fuck. The fucking pants won’t be on me much longer.
“I know another thing, little Prue.”
I push her face to the granite and my pants to the floor. Her shriek when I manhandle her drives me insane with desire.
