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I am not a foe. Do not fly me as a lamb flies the wolf, or a dove the hawk. It is for love I pursue you. THOMAS BULFINCH, THE AGE OF FABLE, OR STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES
Or maybe it’s because, deep down, part of me still hopes I can love him to recovery. That if I don’t give up on him, he won’t give up on life. On himself. I’m wrong, of course. So unbelievably fucking wrong. Some people just don’t want to be saved.
“You’re hardly in a position to be negotiating,” he says, voice thick. “Should I get on my knees then?” His free hand finds the button of my jeans, pushing it through the loop. Hooking a thumb in the waist, he gives a small shake of his head. “I’d much rather be on mine.”
“All night, I’ve imagined how you’d taste, little thief.” Another lick, and the flat of his thumb follows. “Imagined what this view would look like. How it’d feel to worship a deviant.” I shudder. “And?” Teeth nick my clit again, causing me to cry out. “Fucking divine.” As he finishes his sentence, his tongue spears inside me.
“There it is,” he grunts, speaking directly into my pussy. “Give it to me, m’ eudail. I want to see how bewitching you are when you come.”
“Innocent lassies don’t come all over the face of a man they don’t know. They don’t strip bare in an alley and spread their delicious thighs, and they certainly don’t ask the monster to fuck them.”
“And what would you have done if I came inside you? If I pumped your sweet cunt full of my cum? So full that she’d leak for a week, and you’d have to walk around with the reminder of how deliriously good I felt every damn day.”
“You’re right, mate. She’s more than just an assistant, so if I hear you proposition her for sex again, I’ll have you fired and chased out of this fucking town. If she goes home with and rides anyone’s cock tonight—or any other night—it’ll be mine.”
Twisting my fingers lightly in her hair, I move a little closer. “There’s no future tense about it, m’ eudail. We already are.”
“God doesn’t get on his knees to worship,” I mutter against her, taking her clit between my teeth. “You’re in bed with the devil, m’ eudail, and I don’t think he intends on letting you go.”
“You’re building a pool.” I nod, threading my fingers through her hair. “Why?” Closing my eyes, I consider not answering this question. Swimming has never appealed to me. The water leaves you vulnerable, which is why I’ve always simply avoided it. My lips are dry when they open again. “Because you said you like to swim.”
