I kick my shoes off and hop in next to him. His hand finds mine, and he grips it, lacing our fingers together and squeezes it.
“How’s your mother?” I ask.
“That’s not why you’re here.”
“No, it’s not.” But in all honesty, I don’t even know why I am here.
“You want to know why we work, but also why we don’t,” he says.
I turn my head to face him, and he faces me. Those eyes that have haunted me and looked at me in the throes of passion are now soft.
“Even after everything. After what he did to you. What I did to you. Then me killing him and moving on.”
“I think that’s the secret question, isn’t it? So… why?”
“I can’t answer that.” He looks away and closes his eyes. “All I can tell you is what I want, and that is you. You know I want you. I will do anything to have you. Is it unhealthy? To you, maybe. To me, it’s a fucking Disney story.”
“That would be one hell of a dark one.”
“Sometimes, the dark ones are the best,” he answers. “Do you think you can stay?”
“Yes.”
Lucas reaches out and pulls me to him. I go easily until my body is lying on his. He pushes the hair from my face and kisses the top of my head.
“Sleep.”
And I do.
Listening to his heart beat fast in his chest until it finally settles, and I know he’s finally asleep.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Lucas
Her body is warm on top of mine. I move slightly, and she makes a sound in her sleep. That was the best sleep I’ve ever had for a very long time. I always sleep well when she’s next to me, but having her on top of me all night? That’s some sort of new passion we’ve unlocked.
She groans and goes to stretch. “I can feel you between my legs, Lucas.”
“Well, it sure as shit isn’t a remote,” I reply.
Chanel moves, sitting up until she’s on her knees, and looks down at me. Her hair is a mess, her clothes are all crumpled, but she looks like a fucking goddess.
“Maybe I should inspect it.” She reaches for my pants and pulls at the waistband. My cock springs free, and her eyes take him in. “It really is a pretty cock,” she says.
“Its favorite home is quite beautiful as well,” I tell her. “Your cunt, in case you hadn’t guessed.” She lowers her hand to my cock, wrapping her long fingers around it, and starts to move.
“Why must you call it that?” she asks, leaning down, her breath tickling me.
“Cunt?”
She nods, and her tongue darts out and brushes the tip of my cock. I manage to stay still, even though I want to buck and push her mouth farther down my shaft. But with her, I have learned to be a patient man.
All good things come to those who wait. And she is worth every second of waiting.
“What other word should I use? It is a cunt, is it not?”
Her lips lift and then kiss me again, right where I want them.