Each inch of her skin gets my touch upon it, the caress of my hands, the flicker of my tongue, the long slow drag of skin against skin.
If this was sex, I’d be left cold, even revolted, but it’s nothing like that, not for me. This is programming the base code of how to make a human girl happy. A program I never need to repeat with another if I can only get the routine right.
And I have the time and space to do that.
Ant is locked up tight for the next month. No one else has a claim on Evie’s attention or her time. This strange and enticing girl is completely mine, the ownership just as pleasing as the phantom bursts of arousal she’s inspired in me.
She belongs to me from the hairs on her head to the soles of her feet. Each tiny piece of her I take builds onto the next and the next… Deeper than sexual attraction. A thrill that pumps around my body like adrenaline.
The suck, suck, suck and the whirling tongue and the long licking strokes that make her bend her body backwards, arching off the bed in physical ecstasy set a possessive fire in my mind, burning through my constant companion of anger to leave me satisfied.
Even though I won’t fill her tender pink cavity with anything larger than my fingers, I still appreciate the glistening wetness of her folds as my hands and tongue and my dirty, dirty mouth make her open to me, squirming under my touch, twisting and arching as she seeks more.
And when her sweet taste explodes upon my tongue, when her thighs squeeze my ears, her fingers twisting in my hair to guide me where she needs, in the throes of her ecstasy, I take her pleasure as my reward.
I wrap my arms around her, curling my knees so my thighs touch against the back of her legs, snuggling into her like I would cuddle a pillow in those first long, lonely nights after Addie died.
Mine.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
EVIE
I wakein the morning with Maddox’s arm slung across my waist. The rhythmic puff of his breath hits my neck, one leg traps mine beneath it. A sense of overwhelming contentment fills me. My brother’s getting the treatment he needs, and for the moment, it seems like I might be as well.
The dorm room is tidy and clean and built for purpose. There’s no kitchenette, not with the university cafeteria open around the clock, but otherwise, it’s better outfitted than the flat.
My phone is under the pillow, and I retrieve it, trying my best not to shake Maddox awake. There’s a text from the clinic; my brother has passed the roughest stage of detox with flying colours.
I close my eyes, biting into my lip to stave off a noisy sob of relief.
Tomorrow, they’re scheduled to ease off the sedatives. When he’s fully conscious, they’ll be able to perform a more thorough examination and have promised to send the results of that as soon as they’re able.
The idea the worst might be behind him fills me with gratitude. To think that a few short weeks ago, it seemed the grind would be never-ending; that he’d always be within reaching distance of the claws of addiction, that bouncing from one crisis to another was the most we could hope for from life.
And now…?
Now Ant’s on the mend. I shouldn’t count our chickens before they’re hatched but the chances are so good, I throw caution to the wind.
He’ll wake from the sedation with his system clear of opioids. When he completes the thirty day rehab program, it will be the first time he’s gone that long without drugs since he swallowed the first pill aged thirteen.
Nine years.
It’s a miracle. Paid for with far more cash than anything should cost, but that doesn’t make the effect any less spectacular.
I carefully replace my phone and roll onto my back, freezing as Maddox gives a soft snort, rearranging his long limbs, then falling into the same rhythmic breathing as before.
My eyes trace his features, their strange mix of brutish and delicate, highlighted by the bruising and swelling from Ant’s punches. The tips of my fingers itch to touch his face, trace the shape of his lips, feel the strength of those wide cheekbones.
Then I feel something stir against my hip. I nudge towards him a little and yes, there’s definitely something there. Mr I-don’t-get-hard is well on his way to an erection.
Usually, I wouldn’t. But my curiosity gets the better of me and my arm steals down to my side, gently easing my fingers between us until I’m cupping him in my hand. At my touch, he grows bigger, stiffer. Maddox’s eyes move beneath their lids, and I wonder what he’s seeing in there. If his view is as gorgeous as mine.
Any thoughts about touching him while he sleeps is excused away by his admission that he did the same while I was under the influence of his pills. Not in a mean or vengeful way, but it’s fair play, isn’t it?
I press my palm more firmly against him and his hips move, leaning in towards my touch.
He’s so beautiful, even with the bruising and swelling. His long lashes flutter as the movement behind his lids grows more insistent, his fat lips parting to inhale a gasp.
