I think of my own, the way she bit into it, tore a piece free, swallowed it down, and I feel myself getting harder.
I fuck her slower, harder, more determined.
“I’m going to fill you up so full of my cum, that you’ll drown in it, Little Lamb.”
Penelope moans at that, lips parted, she stares up at me, hands still around my neck, but no pressure now, like she’s forgotten she wanted to kill me only seconds ago.
“Billy,” she gasps, writhing beneath me, neck arching, head craning back, her eyes shut tight. Another gasp, “Billy,” another squeeze of her cunt around my cock, and I’m so close to coming, to filling her, I don’t want it to end yet, to be over. But when she speaks again, “Billy,” a moan of my name, a softness in her voice, I know I can’t hold it off.
My knees burn as every thrust shunts us a half-foot across the rug. Nellie’s hands come up into my hair, fingers twisting in the curls, her thumbs on my temples, she drags me down. Our mouths reconnecting, tongues lapping over each other once more.
“Billy,” she breathes into my mouth, the only time I like hearing someone use my name to beg. “Billy, come for me.”
It’s a command I cannot disobey. I thrust into her once, twice, and I’m coming. Long, hard thrusts have me biting down on her lip as I keep pulsating, keep spilling my seed inside of her. Making sure I bury myself inside of her as deep as I possibly can. All in the hopes it might mature into something more.
It has me still pumping myself into her, even as I soften, even as her limbs go limp and she softens beneath me. It’s myone goal; the whole reason she’s here as far as The Obsidian’s concerned.
And although we’re not supposed to conceive before the union, if we did… It might just be enough to keep her safe.
For now.
Chapter 11
PENELOPE
Breed.
That’s the word that sticks inside my skull, a flesh-eating parasite eating away at my brain.
The other ones Billy just used, used in warning mostly.
Trials.
Rituals.
Blood.
None of them really strike fear into me the way that first one does.
Even though they should.
Even though they will.
Butbreed, it feels sooo… “Clinical.”
“Nellie.”
“No. It is, Billy. That’s so sciencey and weird.”
“Weird?”
I can tell he’s frustrated, blowing out his breath, flicking his eyes up onto the ceiling.
We’re in the Orangery.
Brick walls full of floor length, gothic style arched windows, the glass set in thin metal white frames, a high pointed glass ceiling. Nothing but thick, heavy grey clouds hanging low, full of rain, maybe hail, but something wet and cold all the same. It sets the tone for the conversation we’re having.
“It’s weird to you, it’s not to me. This is just how things are done. We Pair, we marry, we reproduce. It’s actually always been a fairly normal concept in lots of places around the world.”
