"You can trust me, Marlowe."
"I already knew that," I say and reach up to kiss him.
"Just hold onto me, okay? And breathe."
"Okay," I say softly, already with my arms wrapped around his neck, clinging hard to him.
Zephyr guides his cock to my pussy. He uses the head of his shaft to glide up and down my folds, pressing against my clit, then slipping between my labia. Each time he pushes a little deeper, driving me mad because he is taking too long, and I am too wet and too empty.
"Please, Zephyr. Please put your cock inside me," I say, my words pure and true. This is all I want.
"Jesus."
He presses down on me. I gasp, arching my back. But then he pushes a little deeper, and deeper, and deeper. The stretching of my pussy is so incredible I'm shocked my body can do this while also experiencing a level of unprecedented sheer, sweet, delicious torment.
I'm forced to sink my teeth into his shoulder as he captures all of me with his cock. He slowly slides in and out of me. The friction causes sparks to erupt from deep inside me.
I can hear how wet I am with each thrust he makes. Soon the sensation becomes addictive. I want more. Faster.
Out of desperation, I squeeze my walls around him. Zephyr's entire body jerks. He growls deep in his throat as he clutches my jaw and tells me to do that again.
I do, and he kisses me with such fierce, wild possession; a climax hurtles through me, pouring out of me with the force of a tidal wave, drowning me in a sea of eroticism. Nothing matters but feeling Zephyr empty himself inside me.
I hug his cock to my walls, moving my body on instinct alone. He flips us over, so I'm straddling him, then takes my nipple into his mouth. I rub my clit against any part of him I can, and then I come again, all over the tip of Zephyr's cock thrust into the deepest part of me.
He wraps his hand around my nape, stares into my eyes, says my name, and without severing contact, he comes inside me, filling me up until his cum leaks out of me. But then he flips us back to the way we were, me on my back, and he gathers every drop of his cum with the head of his cock and puts it back inside me.
He doesn't let me go, not immediately. He releases me carefully, then scoops me up into his arms. As he kisses my forehead, my nose, my cheeks, my lips, he cups my pussy, and the warmth I feel is so soothing I fall asleep.
Sometime during the night, we get up, and he bathes us, feeds us, and lets me explore the full length of his cock with my mouth. His taste is addictive.
Zephyr Smith is addictive.
Chapter Fifteen
Marlowe
I can't stop smiling. I just can't. I also have a permanent blush on my cheeks, as if everyone in town knows what I did with their sheriff and what he did to me.
If I thought the morning after would be awkward, I didn't have time to worry. Zephyr made love to me one more time before he left for the office. That evening, I was waiting for him at my house, and as soon as he walked in, we tore each other's clothes off and barely made it to my bedroom. It's been like that for days now.
We'd hungrily take our fill from each other's bodies, then talk quietly into the night. I love every minute of it.
Tonight, though, I offered to cook him dinner, like civilians do, at my place, where we would sit at the table, eat our food from plates, and drink wine from glasses instead of in bed from pizza boxes and lasagna from foil containers. We at least have to try being normal once.
I can't really cook, but I said I could. What I meant was I could try. I'm going to give it my best shot.
I've already shopped for steak; now I'm in the produce aisle of the supermarket, hand-picking potatoes as if I know which ones are the prized ones.
"Oh, hi. Ms. Evans, is it?" A tall, lanky man with a bag of apples and a bag of bananas stops me. I've come to know quite a few people around here. Besides my book club girls, who are fabulous, I've also had conversations with Horace the brewer, managed to placate Mabel Rose into thinking I'm good people, and met sisters Polly Anne and Maggie Jane—Candy Creek's hottest widows. Apparently, I'm not supposed to know, but they have a bet going on about who can bag the sheriff. I've been sworn to secrecy by Claudia Henry, the hairdresser, who gave me this juicy tidbit, and I will take it to the grave.
"Settling in all right?" the tall man asks.
"Yes, thank you so much. I don't think we've met before?"
"Of course. Sorry. I'm Peter, Peter from Pest Control. Pest Control Peter. I can't seem to get the name right. Anyway, no problems at the house?"
"Hi, Peter. Nice to meet you. And no, I'm surprised. I expected to find some creepy crawlies, but no—well, except for the stupid... I mean Benjamin Lawrence, who likes to make an appearance in my bed every now and again."
