“Shhh, baby girl.”
She pierces me with an intense look. To show her who’s in charge, I thrust my fingers deeper, but she doesn’t gag, sending my mind spiraling with the possibilities of testing that with my cock.
Smirking, I continue eating her, feasting on sweet ambrosia. She gushes so much wetness that it coats my chin and the sheets, leaking toward her other hole.
I trace her puckered asshole, needing to claim everything, mark her from the inside out. She shoots out of the bed, but I push her back down, sliding my fingers down the valley of her breasts.
“Every hole of yours is mine. And I can do whatever the fuck I want to each,” I say hoarsely, barely restraining myself.
She flops on her back as if accepting her destiny. My woman has a theatrical bone, amusing me. Ease spreads through me, making me feel content like never before. With my thumb in her ass, two fingers in her pussy, and my lips sucking on her clit, she turns into a whimpering, shaky mess. It doesn’t take her long to erupt, crying out my name.
“Oh my God,” she whispers, panting.
I arch an arrogant brow. “More like ‘oh my Mika’ in your case, as I did all the work.”
She giggles, the sound divine as she caresses my cheek. “Thank you so much for your service, good sir.”
I can’t abstain from chuckling. No wonder I started laughing again once I had some alone time with her.
“How is your ass?” I ask as I caress the round cheeks.
Her brows furrow. “Sore. Sensitive.”
A sound of pure satisfaction rumbles in my throat. “Good.”
“Good?” she asks, voice thick with incredulity.
“Brats get punished,” I say moving closer to her.
She drags her bottom lip through her teeth, a shy look painting her expression. “But will they be kissed? Will they be fucked?”
“Dahlia…”
It’s not that I don’t want to, but I have already crossed any decency boundary.
She tilts her head, doubt pulling down at the corners of her mouth. “We did it all backward, didn’t we?”
I squeeze my eyes closed, the memory of those days is never far from my thoughts. Just like the haze of blood and violence I got lost in afterward.
“I’m sorry for always pushing you,” she says, sounding genuine, breaking my damn heart that she believes that.
Her frustration is justified. I was the one comfortable living a total lie—ignoring our connection, burying the secrets while sharing this unbreakable bond, but never crossing the line. Emotionally, we’ve been together since then.
I was afraid to push her, but while I was too busy thinking of the damage I’d caused, I failed to realize we were together in that shit. We survived together. Trauma might have bonded us, but we were always meant to be together.
Pushing herself off the bed, her arms wrap around me, and she places her cheek on my chest. For a few minutes, we lie in comfortable silence as if recharging, plugged into our connection.
She sits cross-legged in front of me, fidgeting with her hands on her lap. “At times, I think you want to hate me. It would be easier.”
Her eyes shine with raw heartbreak that fucking kills me.
Leaning in to her, I kiss the top of her head, caressing down her back. “I would rather cut my heart out than give you that impression. Baby girl, I could never hate you. I never liked easy.”
“Enzo would never understand,” she sighs.
I place my hand over hers, both of hers fitting in my larger one. “I don’t want this life for you.”
“But you don’t want a life when I’m not in yours either. I know it’s convenient, and it has worked out. I simply can’t anymore.” She sounds apologetic, but her gaze brims with impatience.
