She clings to me as she comes, digging her nails into my flesh and leaving behind half-moon impressions, the only marks I wish to have from her. She leans forward, and without warning, bites me gently at the base of my neck.
That single action leaves me undone, and I feel my body lose control. Thick, ropy spurts shudder from deep within my core as a ragged gasp escapes my throat. She grips me with her slick walls, refusing to let me go—not until she’s milked me dry of every drop.
After a few more moments of delicious agony, I slowly pull my cock out and watch her features twist between unequivocal pleasure and utter betrayal.
She doesn’t want me to pull out just yet.
I smirk while tugging the rest of the way, groaning as her arousal mixed with my cum slithers around the head of my cock. With one hand extended to steady her, I lift my underwear and pants from the ground, securing them around my waist. I grab her jeans, toss them over my shoulder, and then grab a towel from the pantry, covering her so I can carry her back to her room.
No one is on the terrace when I pass it. We make it undisturbed down the hallway and into our shared bedroom, where I gently set her on the bed.
I kiss her forehead. “Stay here. I’ll get a towel.”
“Best words I ever heard in my life.”
A grin sends me to the bathroom.
Once I’ve grabbed a hand towel, I return and gently clean her up, being careful around her sore pussy. Seconds later, I’ve stripped away my clothes and joined her on the bed, nestling into the mess we’ve created. The sheets are crooked, and half her clothes are hanging off the edge of the mattress.
But it doesn’t bother me as much as it would any other time.
I notice her staring at me and smooth her hair away from her face. “I’m glad you told me about your feelings.”
“Oh?” She shrugs. “I just…I guess I couldn’t hold it in.”
“Don’t ever do that. Don’t ever feel that you can’t tell me things.”
A bashful smile appears though it’s not necessary. Her full smile is far more appealing.
I gently rub the corner of her mouth with my thumb. “I don’t want you to hide from me. I’m not my father.” I close my eyes. “I’m always afraid I’m going to become him.”
She props herself on her elbow. “How?”
Haunted images roll through my mind of slicing a young boy to pieces.
Like killing Josh Torres.
I breathe deep and shake my head.
“Pavel?”
I look into her eyes, seeing nothing but concern in those oak wood pools. “Sometimes I wonder what would happen if we just disappeared to a secluded island. Away from the world.”
She sits up and crosses her legs beneath her. Her eyes are wide. Her pulse is racing. Her hands catch her chin, and she peers down at me like she’s seeing food for the first time in her life.
No, that isn’t right. It’s not that she’s starving.
Her whisper barely travels the space between us, “Do you mean that?”
It’s fear mixed with love. It’s anticipation. It’s a medley of things that don’t quite match.
But it’s also none of those things simultaneously. She keeps looking at me like she’s waiting for something, an answer she’s been dying to hear since the moment she met me.
The answer smacks me like a semitruck.
It’shope.
Of all the things I could have said to her—of all the things I could have done—taking her away from this mess never occurred to me.