Careful not to rest my weight on her, I reached around her body and lightly brushed my fingertips over her tit. Her nipple tightened further, and I risked rolling the nub between my thumb and forefinger. She let out a sigh and pushed her bottom out in my direction as though she knew I was there and was silently asking for more.
My cock throbbed. I let my gaze skirt down her body, to rest on her backside and the material of her knickers barely covering her peachy cheeks. She hadn’t attempted to put her pyjama bottoms back on after I’d gone to sleep. Was that because she still had a plan to seduce me, to get me on her side, or was it simply because she couldn’t with her hands tied?
I took my hand from her breast and smoothed it over the perfect skin of her bottom. I squeezed lightly, enjoying the soft weight. How would it feel to fuck her arse, to look down at the view of her hole stretching to take me, swallowing my length, framed by the round globes of her cheeks? Unable to help myself, I slid my hand beneath the material of her underwear and traced the valley beneath. My fingertips brushed the hole I’d been coveting, and it took all my self-control not to push a finger inside her. Instead, I kept going down to where she grew soft and plump and wet.
She moaned, and I froze, certain she would wake, but she quickly settled back down again.
I pulled her knickers carefully to one side and edged down the bed. With my face at the juncture of her thighs, I inhaled deeply, sucking the musky scent of her into my lungs. Fuck, she smelled incredible. I couldn’t help myself. I snuck out my tongue and licked her slit. A gentle sigh escaped her lips, and, in her sleep, she stuck her backside out, her legs spreading.
Did she know I was here but didn’t want to admit it to herself? Was this her way of encouraging me?
I risked thrusting my tongue deeper, her heat and cream coating my tastebuds. I reached down with my other hand and pressed it to my erection. I wanted to free myself and masturbate over her again, but if she really was asleep, the fast, repetitive motion was bound to wake her.
Putting my own pleasure to one side, I focused on her. I reached around her body, and my fingers found her clit. I touched it lightly, not wanting to wake her. When she didn’t react to that, I increased the pressure gradually, working the sensitive bud in tantalisingly slow circles.
Her breathing deepened, and I went back to fucking her with my tongue.
Her body stiffened and shuddered, and little moans and gasps came from her lips. She was climaxing in her sleep, and I took great pleasure from giving her that.
Gradually, she stilled again, and her breathing grew closer and deeper. I crawled back up her body and lay behind her, inhaling the scent of her skin and relishing the taste of her still on my tongue.
I must have fallen asleep.
When I woke up it was light outside. Morning. How many hours had we slept? It had been a long time since I’d slept so deeply. Insomnia had been one of the other side effects of grief for me. Was it because of the woman sleeping beside me or because I hadn’t had a drink in over forty-eight hours? Since Jodie had died, I’d been spending more time at the bottom of a bottle than not, doing my best to shut off the pain. It had never worked, of course, but I’d never seen any reason not to drink. A therapist would call it self-sabotage. I wondered if this would be considered self-sabotage, too—getting involved with the daughter of the man who’d killed my fiancée. I wanted him to come for me, eventually. I guessed then I’d figure out if I’d let him kill me or if I’d take him down first.
Chapter Fourteen
Kaja
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WHY DID I FEEL LIKEsomething had happened last night?
I hadn’t wanted my dreams to be filled with him, but they were. I’d gone to sleep with the hope of escaping from my situation, if only for a few hours, but he’d chased me into my dreams.
They were muddled and confusing. I dreamed he was angry with me, pushing me up against a wall, me shoving him back. Then the fight had turned into fucking. His cock, even thicker and longer than it was in real life, was like a weapon. His fingers, unforgiving, exploring every inch of my skin, pressing between my thighs.