She opens her mouth on a silent scream, her body arching off the desk, and the inner muscles of her ass grip my finger like a vice.
I work her through her orgasm, drinking down her juices and groaning from her taste. The shaking turns to trembles, and I slowly lick my way up her body until my lips press against her ear. I slip out of her ass until just the tip of my finger is pressing against it.
“One day,” I whisper. “I’m going to take you here. Feel your muscles milk the cum from my cock while you pleasure that sweet little cunt.”
She sucks in a breath, her eyes wild and her cheeks ruddy.
“Would you like that?” I whisper, rubbing my nose along her cheek.
Her hands reach out and grip my face, pulling me toward her. And then she licks her juices from my mouth, her eyes heavy-lidded as she moans at the taste.
My insides clamp tight, my length jerking.
She moves her touch from my jaw as her tongue slips between my lips, her palms sliding down to grapple with my belt buckle. I help speed up the process, stripping off my pants until my cock springs free, thick and engorged, dripping with the need to be inside her.
Her fingers move to my shirt, and I freeze, my hands shooting to cover hers, not wanting her to see the imperfections of the past marring my skin.
“It’s okay,” she says. She sits up until her face is level with mine, the flat of her palm resting on my chest, directly over my heart. “I’m not pretending.”
I breathe in deeply, my emotions running haywire, fear flooding my veins as she slowly undoes my shirt, one button at a time, until she slides her hands underneath the sleeves, the fabric slipping off my skin. I stand stoic, my jaw set, bracing myself for what I know she’s about to see.
She scoots closer, her legs wrapping around my hips, nestling my cock against her center. “James,” she whispers.
The name rolling off her tongue undoes me, something warm and needy exploding through my chest. I raise my arms, allowing her to lift my undershirt and toss it to the side.
And then I wait.
Her fingers trail over my torso, and I chance a glance down, terrified to see the look of pity on her face.
But I don’t.
Her gaze is wide and open as she touches every scar, many of them from the nights my uncle decided to nick my skin, knowing the sight of my blood caused terror to paralyze me in place.
My heart pumps erratically in my chest. Her hand ghosts along my hip, the jagged line searing up my side, burning from her touch.
“What happened here?” she asks.
I grit my teeth. “Plane crash.”
Her eyes glance to mine, and then she leans in and presses her lips to the mark. My lungs squeeze, my throat swelling from the gesture. I want to tell her that she’s kissing the scar her father helped create, and that somehow, with just her touch, she’s eased the pain.
But I don’t know how, so I pull her face up to my mouth instead, and I show her with my body.
I suck her breath into my mouth, slamming her back on the desk, my shaft slipping between the folds of her pussy and creating a friction that has my stomach tensing, pleasure pricking along my spine.
“Say it again,” I speak against her lips.
“Say what?”
“My name.” I grind into her, heat spreading through every cell.
Her eyes roll back as the tip of my length presses against her clit. “James,” she breathes.
My cock slides inside in one thrust, all the way to the hilt.
We gasp simultaneously, the feel of being surrounded by her overwhelming every sense. I’m afraid if I move, I’ll explode, and I want this to last forever.
Slowly, I ease out before pushing back in, the power of my hips matching the surge of my emotion, making me delirious with the need to get as deep as I can.
I lean down, my tongue licking along the shell of her ear. “You’re so perfect. Feel so fucking good.”
She groans, her fingernails digging into my shoulder as her hips rise to meet mine.
There is no exchanging of power here, no demand for obedience or a need to keep everything under my control.
There’s just Wendy.
Only ever Wendy.
Doing what she does best; consuming every part of me.
My torn-up heart rattles against its blackened cage, beating just for her, hoping she’ll learn to love it through the dirt.
“Again,” I demand.
“James,” she moans.
I bite my lip, my insides raging with heat as my hips piston into her, balls slapping against her ass with every inward stroke. “I want you to tell me that you’re mine.”
She cries out as I change the rhythm, my cock seated fully inside of her, my hips grinding against her clit.
“I’m—”
I cut her off with a kiss, needing her to understand what I’m asking. “I want you to tell me, but not because I say to, not because I ask.” I drop my head in the juncture of her neck, my breathing shallow and hot, my orgasm building deep in my gut as I pull out then slide back in, rotating my hips against her. “I want you to say it because you are mine. Because you’re going to stay, even though we both know you should leave.”
Her breathing stutters, her hands framing my face as she stares deep into my eyes. “I’m yours, James.”
Heat bursts inside my chest, and I pick up my pace, her words pouring into my soul and filling up the cracks in my heart.
The sound of our skin slapping mixes with her moans until she tenses and then explodes. Her pussy walls clench around me, urging my balls to tighten, my muscles seizing until they ache. Cum pulses through my shaft, my cock jerking wildly inside of her as I coat her womb with my seed.
I collapse on top of her, breathing heavily, my mind finally at peace.
It’s in this moment that I know, as crazy as it seems, that I love her.
And that terrifies me more than anything else ever has.
39
Wendy
I’m in front of the mirror, adjusting the ill-fitting clothes Moira bought since what I was wearing is now shredded on the floor—something I’ve noticed James loves to do. My eyes flicker to him through the mirror as he stands behind his desk. He’s finally washed the blood off his arms and is now buttoning up his shirt, covering the scars that mar every inch of his torso. My heart twists, wondering how they got there, and feeling a heavy sense of purpose, knowing that he let me see.
He opens a drawer and pulls out a gun, slipping it behind his back in the waistband of his pants, before grabbing his suit jacket and sliding it up his arms, buttoning it in the front.
My abs tense at the sight.
“You’re really too attractive for your own good,” I say.
His head snaps up, a grin sneaking on his face as he saunters over, stepping behind me and pressing kisses to my neck.
“James?” My heartbeat pounds in my ears.
I’m not sure where we stand, part of me feeling as if I’m balancing in the middle of a teeter-totter, unsure which way it’s going to shift.
“Hmm?” He hums against me.
“Can I…” I spin around, my hands resting on his chest. “I want to see my brother.”
He nods. “Alright.”
Relief pours through me. “And…” I bite my lip. “I’d like my phone back.”
“Done.” His brow lifts. “Anything else?”