Oaths and Omissions (Monsters & Muses, #3)

by Sav R. Miller

“I’m surprised to see you here, though. Without a pair of handcuffs, that is.” “I can assure you my bedroom habits have nothing to do with what parties I attend.” Mr. Rafferty’s face flushes, and he glances at my brother. “That isn’t what I meant—”

Imagine the look on her father’s face when he realized I’d soiled his precious baby girl. Tainted her soul and marked her as mine.

I find most people so dreadfully bland that the idea of keeping their company makes me want to blow my brains out.

Wish I could explain the sudden need I have to make known that she’s here for me, even if they don’t know it’s pretend. My hand slides up the column of her neck, my thumb pressing beneath her chin while my fingers curl into her soft flesh. It’s demented, this urge, but I’m in too deep now to stop it. When I lean down and press my lips to hers, the entire background of the pub seems to melt away. My tongue prods the seam of her mouth, and it opens on the softest sigh, beckoning me to explore. And right then, I know. I’m fucked.

“First thing you should know,” he says, or breathes, rather. Like the kiss we just shared dragged the air from his lungs the same way it did mine. “I don’t share. Ever.”

“The only sharing I’m interested in when it comes to you, is ensuring my cock gets as much time with your cunt as my lips. Believe me, love, when I say you won’t require more than that.”

the thought of anyone else putting their hands on the little puppet, when she’s only been my possession for a short time, blinds me with fury.

Fucking hell. The panic. Looks just as sweet on your hundredth victim as it did on the first.

A cramp seizes my stomach. He brushes some hair off my shoulder, and I feel his lips on my ear. “What did you do?” I whisper. Afraid to do more than that. “I won’t be kept from you,” Jonas murmurs, his words hot and damp as they send a flurry of goose bumps across my skin. Even as my terror spikes, flaring like an infection in my veins, there’s something else, too. Something that keeps me from fleeing. Excitement.

“Oh?” The single syllable is barely more than a whispered breath, and I wish I could taste its essence on my tongue. “Am I your prisoner now?” Swallowing a groan, I shift forward, letting my thighs graze the backs of hers. Behind my zipper, my cock lengthens, throbbing with an intensity that’s almost painful. I move again, pressing my hips into the swell of her arse through her silk sleep shorts and trying not to blow just from the contact alone. My fingers find the nape of her neck, sliding down and tracing the ridge of her collarbone. “Would you like to be?”

She tastes like absolution, but I’ll bet she fucks like damnation.

“Perhaps we don’t know each other’s favorite songs and worst nightmares, but you can be soulmates and still not be aware of those things. Some connections are physical, love. Tangible. You know them when you feel them.”

“I’m a Cancer,” I say finally, propping my knee up so it’s in the seat with me. Jonas frowns. “That’s no way to talk about yourself, love.”

Reaching across my plate, Jonas grabs a blueberry scone from a silver platter and brings it to my mouth; it probably looks romantic from the other side, like someone feeding their lover an affectionate bite, but in reality, he shoves the pastry between my lips to keep me from making another sound. I’m basically gagged at breakfast, and even when I try to tear off a piece to thwart him, he just pushes more inside. And I kind of like it. Being stuffed, helpless and unable to peep.

Smirking, Jonas brings his hand back up above the table, though he doesn’t bother moving away from me. My stomach drops when I realize his fingers still glisten. With his opposite hand, Jonas grabs his champagne, lifting it in the direction of my parents, who don’t seem to have been paying attention to us until now. “To new discoveries,” Jonas says, pinning Preston with a solemn look, before raising his free hand and sucking on the tips of his fingers. Sucking me off of him. “And delicious brunches.”

“They don’t matter,” he rumbles, his voice dropping so its low vibrations echo in my chest, “because once I’m inside of you, splitting you open and filling your cunt with so much cum you choke, you won’t remember anyone else existed.”

“Do you have any idea how stunning you look on your knees?” Pulling back, I kiss his slit, absorbing the pearly bead leaking from it. “Not as stunning as I’ll look with you down my throat.” His fist jerks, and he grins. “Go on, then. Show me a masterpiece.”

“Show me,” he says, and I frown, not sure what he means. His hand comes up, stroking my jaw. “Open your mouth and show me what I gave you.” Using my tongue to push some of the warm liquid around, I open my mouth and stick my tongue out. His thumb caresses my cheek, and the aftershocks of my orgasm have me panting, satisfied yet somehow ready for more. “Beautiful.” With a sigh, he drops his hand and moves back a step. “I think you were made to take my cum, love. You did perfectly.”

“Drop to my knees and eat you until you’re trembling. Until tears stream down your cheeks and you beg me to stop, only to hold my head between your thighs because you’re a filthy little liar, and you wouldn’t really want me to stop. Not before you could soak my tongue.”

“Let me be very, very clear, my little puppet.” Slamming his palms down on either side of my head, he looms over me, a predator who fully intends on enjoying every bit of his prey. “I want to eat it. I want to spend breakfast, lunch, and dinner drenching my chin between your thighs, doing my best to get my fill of you.”

I’ve never fucked anyone before and had it feel like this. Like she could save me or condemn me, and the entire fate of my soul rests in her hands. Or, cunt, I suppose, depending on how you look at it.

Now that I’ve had one taste, though, I can’t seem to stop. Insatiable is one word for it. Completely and utterly deranged is more accurate.

When she comes, that’s what it feels like: a raw, gut-wrenching cataclysm, sweeping away the last vestiges of my soul that try to insist there’s nothing here between us.

“This is exactly where you belong, love. Riding my cock, flushed with pleasure, and dirtied up from a previous round. Our living room may be filled with art, but you’re the most bloody beautiful creation I’ve ever laid eyes on. The museums and galleries should be envious.”

“What would make you happy? College? Traveling?” Me? I could make you happy if you’d let me.

“You never would’ve asked,” Jonas chokes out. “And you shouldn’t have to, Lenny. You deserve to have someone in your corner without having to beg them to show up in the first place.” The sobs grow in volume. In ferocity. I struggle to draw in a breath, sheer terror seizing the bones in my body, locking them up tight. “That wasn’t your battle to win.” I punch against his chest, once twice, the handcuffs making the movement choppy. “That pain was mine, and you commandeered it. Stole it from me, and for what?” “Because I bloody love you!”

“You might have been dealing with it on your own, but I… I couldn’t. I’m not strong enough to sit idly by while men who hurt you still roam this earth.”

Love hurts, my brain says. But it also heals. And my heart is a damn fool to its temptations. My heart wants him.

“Ah, yes, your knight in a dirty leather jacket.”

looking at the myriad of weapons laid out like a buffet. I feel Jonas come up behind me, his presence warm at my back. “I thought you might want to decide how he dies,” he says, and my heart swells ten times. That shouldn’t be romantic, but goddamn. The man just gets me.