Billy’s hand squeezes my swollen breast, slow and hard, his mouth still sucking me in, pulling on my nipple. And then he draws back, neck arching, eyes still on mine, he opens his mouth, showing me his spoils, a droplet of milk dribbling down his chin as it escapes the corner of his mouth.
“Billy.” His name bleeds off of my tongue like a summoning as those devilish blue eyes keep peering up into mine.
And as his lips find mine, feeding me my own milk, his tongue twirling around mine just to suck some of it back. He swallows, lapping his tongue across my mouth, up my cheek, until his mouth is sucking kisses all over my face.
“Come for me, Little Lamb,” he breathes the words into my mouth, his thumb grinding over my clit, he fucks into me hard, holding himself deep, and I start to come as I feel him do the same.
Billy decorates my cunt as he pulls out, painting me with his cum as he keeps coming, his thumb still circling my clit. I drop my hand to the mess between us, sweeping some of it up, the tip of his cock still emptying all over me, and suck it into my mouth. I groan, tasting us both, a salty earthy sweetness on the back of my tongue, something missing from it.
But Billy already knows, pushing his spent cock back inside of me, he takes a razorblade from inside of my boot, slipping it out of its little cardboard sheath, he doesn’t hesitate pushing thesharp blade across the palm of my hand, the sting making me hiss, before offering it up to me to do the same to him, reopening our scars that bound us together all that time ago.
My palm smothers the lower half of Billy’s face, smearing my blood across his mouth, and before he can do the same to me, I’m taking his hand, bringing it to my mouth and sucking on it.
“Fucking hell, Nells,” Billy says through gritted teeth, starting to move his hips again, his cock still inside of me starting to harden once more.
I stare into his eyes as I suck on his hand, swallowing down the heavy iron taste as I draw his blood into my mouth.
And then he’s fucking me again, and I’m grinding my hips in a roll against his, burying him deeper and deeper. My hands are in his hair, my blood on his face, my tongue in his mouth, and I don’t want it to end.
And as Billy bites into my neck, drawing blood as my own teeth pierce their way into his shoulder, we both come, holding onto each other like it’s the last time.
I can still taste him on my lips.
It’s embarrassing how quickly I forget to breathe when he kisses me, touches me, how easily every part of me folds back into the shape of him, as if the weeks apart were just a strange dream I’ve finally woken from. But now we’re standing in the shadows near the rear exit of the church, the candles burning down to trembling nubs, and the world feels suddenly, painfully real again.
“I’m taking you back,” Billy informs me softly, as if saying it gently will make it hurt less. His fingers hover near my arm but don’t touch, he’s learned that sometimes distance can bruise as much as contact despite our touch-heavy reunion.
My heart lurches in my chest, a panicked flutter of wings trying to break bone. I shake my head before the words even come.
“Billy…” my lips wrap around the word like a sin that tastes too decadent to be anything but holy. “You don’t understand.”
He steps closer, and the warmth of him steals the cold from my skin. “Then make me understand.” He snaps the words out like the lash of a whip. “I came back to bed, and you were just gone!” he erupts, the words flowing free like fresh lava. “Why? What did I do?”
“Why did you leave me alone?” I don’t know where the question comes from, there are always meetings with his brothers at odd times of the night, but for the weeks before that, since he killed Balor, paraded him in front of his father, he never left me alone once.
Until that night.
“Penelope-”
“No.” I cut him off, a cold fury seeping into my warm blood. “Tell me where you went. Why it was so important. What you-”
“I was speaking with my mother.” His blue eyes lock on something outside of the church, his jaw set, like he’s trying hard not to crack his teeth with the force he grits them.
My open mouth flaps like a fish out of water, “Your mother?”
He continues looking out of the doors, the two of us just tucked up on the inside of them, and he doesn’t answer, doesn’t elaborate, like this conversation is over now.
I have so many questions, I didn’t even know Billy had a mother. I was under the impression he was in the group homewith me because his single father couldn’t care for him at the time. I should have known that was all lies too.
“Why were you in the group home, Billy?” The words come of their own accord, and Billy’s turning his head to look down at me, his body twisting with him.
He steps in closer, eyes dropping once more, this time to his hands, his fingers coming to the zipper of my coat. It’s the longest, loudest, slowest sound I’ve ever heard. The way he zips up my coat, staring at it like it has all of life’s answers. And then finally, his hands coming to my belly, over the waterproof puffiness of my jacket, he looks down into my eyes, my chin already lifted, gaze on his.
“Tell me why you ran.”
I huff a breath, swallowing hard, knowing that’s an answer for another day. It doesn’t change anything. It can’t. But there’s something awful about speaking the truth, saying it out loud, it makes it solid, heavy, irreversible.
“Milus threatened the baby.” My voice is barely a whisper, but it cracks through the silence like a gunshot. “He said if I didn’t become one of his girls,” bile creeps up the back of my throat, clinging to the base of my tongue. “If I didn’t bend to him, he would take the baby from me. And you… he’d get rid of you.”
