Now, I just need to detonate and hope it takes some stress with it. I know he feels the same. I kiss him harder still, biting at his lip, stabbing my tongue into his mouth, thrusting my fisted hand up and down his shaft as my body folds forward with the pleasure he’s delivering. I whimper, my lips leaving his, my head going limp as every muscle I possess starts to harden and the pleasure charges forward. I feel his finger slip under my chin and force my face up. I can hardly keep my eyes open.
“Look,” he demands, his icy eyes blazing. “Will you come hard for me, baby?” he asks. “Come all over my hand.”
I whimper, my hand action getting a bit chaotic, forcing Danny to take over working himself and me at the same time. I place a hand on each shoulder and look down at the sight of him pleasuring both of us. Unreal. His fist is tight, working steadily, the crown of his cock glistening, and his pleasure-coated fingers thrust into me in time, his thumb working my clit in between. My cheeks inflate with the strain not to scream as the pleasure grips me, slithering through my veins, all heading to one place. I bite down on my lip and look up. His wet, parted lips past his dark stubble, the slight swell of his nose from his bust up with Otto, his burning, drowsy eyes, his scar.
I lean in and lick the length, from below his eye to his lip, then across to the other side. He tenses. I slide my hand down his chest to between his thighs and stroke softly across his balls. He convulses. Loses his rhythm on me for a moment. It’s a moment I need to pull myself back and get in line with Danny. I kiss him briefly and go back to watching him work us, splitting my attention between his hands and his face. His eyes drop to my boobs.
My hands find them immediately, and his head drops back, his stare rooted there, his mouth falling open more, his blues becoming drowsier.
Deadly handsome.
Deadly sexy.
Just fucking deadly in every manner of the word, and I love him. Would die for him. I abandon a boob and stroke down to my belly, holding it, feeling the urge to bend over and suppress the impending explosion between my legs. His eyes move to my tummy. His hands start working faster.
Coming.
Coming.
Coming.
I swallow, my body jerks, and it rushes through me without mercy, forcing me to grab on to Danny’s shoulder. I look down just as he twitches, murmurs, and the head of his dick swells and surges, shooting his cum all over my stomach as he gasps for breath and grabs the side of the tub, the water splashing. “Shit,” he hisses, pushing deeper into me and stilling, letting me wrap every internal muscle around his thick fingers and cling on. I circle my hand across my stomach and spread him all over me, clawing my nails into his bicep, unable to keep my eyes off his beautiful cock still erupting, his essence now hitting my arm. I reach for his hand and slowly pull his fingers free from inside me and lower my ass to my heels, taking a few breaths.
He looks otherworldly there before me recovering from his high, his wet hair falling into his eyes, his body jacked, every muscle pulsing. “Okay?” I ask, splashing water onto my tummy to wash it. Danny says nothing. He sucks his fingers clean, kisses my cheek, and stands, looking like Poseidon rising from the sea. He steps out, takes a towel and dries. “What are you doing today?” I ask.
Danny looks at me as he leaves, which basically tells me if he speaks, it will be a lie, so he won’t speak, and then he can’t be accused of lying. “I love you,” he calls back, putting a small smile on my face, even though I have just served as his in-house whore. A stress reliever. But he would never kiss an in-house whore like that. Neither would he tell them he loves them. And they most certainly wouldn’t be carrying his child.
“Have a good day, dear,” I say quietly, getting out and drying off, at the same time praying for Beau’s safe return and an end to this never-ending nightmare.
I should know by now that God doesn’t hear sinners’ prayers.
I throw on my Union Jack sweater and some stretchy pants before heading downstairs to see what the mood is like in the camp. I know it’ll be low, but how low? I find Daniel at the island shoveling Lucky Charms into his mouth while Pearl and Anya look on, astonished, eating their muffins with a little more grace. “Morning,” I say, joining them and pouring some juice.
“Any news on Beau?” Anya asks.
Daniel’s spoon hits his bowl with a loud clang, and Esther stops wiping the countertop behind me. “What’s wrong with Beau?” he asks, looking at me for an answer. “Did she get shot again?”
Anya’s hand goes straight over her mouth, her apologies spilling through her fingers. “I’m so sorry.”
I can’t be upset with her. I offer Anya a small, reassuring smile before turning to Daniel. “Beau’s fine.” I think. “She’s got her cop head on, is all.”
“Once a cop, always a cop,” he sings, returning to his breakfast, and I laugh lightly.
“Where did you hear that?”
“Beau. No, wait, it was James. Hold up, no, it was Mister.” He frowns. “Or did I see it on CSI?”
“You shouldn’t be watching CSI,” Esther says from across the kitchen.
No, because there’s enough criminal activity happening around here to keep his curious mind busy. God damn it. How I wish he could go to a regular school and be a regular kid while he’s there. He needs friends.
“Hey, Grandma, does Mister know yet that you and Otto are in love?”
I press my lips together and peek at Esther, who’s face is beetroot red. “What are you talking about?”
“Does this mean he’ll be my grandpa?”
“No, it doesn’t.” Otto appears at the door, and Daniel laughs, shoving his spoon in his mouth, milk dribbling down his chin. I will him to keep quiet.