I remove my hand from between our bodies. She moans in protest. I lay my cock along her folds and rock against the slick channel. The tip of my penis bumps against her throbbing clit with each glide. Herfingers dig deeper into my shoulders as she grinds her hips against me, writhing shamelessly.
I move faster and harder, holding her close, our bodies pressed tightly against each other. Somehow the act of doing it on a couch with just enough body parts exposed for sex feels lewder and more illicit than being naked. The ceiling lights shine on her face as her tension builds.
She throws her head back as she catapults into climax. Her flesh spasms along my shaft, and I can’t hold back. I come, the thick white fluid spurting against her. My cum mixing with her slick juice is a sight to behold.
We lie together for a moment, recovering. Then I pick her up and carry her to the bedroom. That was just a small taste. Time for the main course…and to prove to her how much her body wants mine.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Fiona
I shift a little in bed, not opening my eyes. Don’t know what time it is and don’t care. I’m too exhausted from last night, not to mention hungry. I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast yesterday. Meeting Zoe killed my appetite for the rest of the day.
I don’t know what Zoe fed Bryce, but it must’ve been something potent. It’s been over twenty-four hours since she had him drugged, but he was insatiable again last night. I came way too many times. Toward the end, it was all I could do to cling to him and scream until my throat turned raw. It’s a real mystery—how can a man drive me so wild with lust, yet make me want to murder him with my bare hands at the same time?
Afterward, he clung to me, burying his face in the crook of my neck, his big, strong body shuddering like a wounded animal. I ran my fingers through his hair, just the way he loved when we were together in college, then hummed a wordless tune softly until the tension in his muscles melted away.
Bryce once asked me what song it was, but it doesn’t have a title. I just came up with it when I noticed he was too tense to fall asleep. “Maybe I’ll call it ‘My Special Song for Bryce,’” I told him with a shrug,my cheeks slightly warm. Although one of the reasons Zachary chose me was that I was musically adept and could carry a decent tune, my ability could never measure up to Finley’s—a fact that the Obermans brought up many times.
He cradled my face and smiled at me like I was the life-giving sun. Excepthewas the sun that warmedmysoul. I was never certain if I could be worthy of happiness, but he made me feel like everything was possible if I’d just reach for it.
And I dreamed of myself, with him, creating a family I could belong to. My life didn’t work out the way I wanted, but I could still comfort him in his sleep. I ran my fingers through Bryce’s hair and hummed for him. He stirred my shocked sympathy when it dawned on me that he had no idea that what his mother was doing was basically rape. I couldn’t even speak. He’s alawyer! He should’ve realized it before anybody else.
But Zoe’s abuse when he was small might have been so bad that he copes by pretending what she’s doing isn’t as horrific as it actually is. Or maybe his lawyer brain just doesn’t work right when it comes to his family. Nothing is more complicated than families.
It’s also possible that I’m just more sensitive about consent than most people. After all, Jude took me against my wishes for two godawful years. If he hadn’t nearly died and I hadn’t had the opportunity to hack into his phone, laptop, and cloud storage, he might’ve continued until I couldn’t bear it anymore and done something unthinkable—and irreversible.
“Good morning, Fiona,” comes Bryce’s cheerful voice. The mattress dips as he sits near me.
I pull the sheets over my head and bury my face in the pillow, closing my eyes more tightly. “Go away.” I wince at how hoarse I sound. “You’re not allowed to come near me for the next seven days. Minimum.”
“Seriously?” There’s laughter in his voice. “Even when I come bearing a gift?”
That makes my eyebrows twitch a little. “What gift?” I ask suspiciously. If he says, “My hard, eager dick,” I’m going to murder—
“An Americano.”
I open one eye, lift the sheets a fraction and sniff, inhaling the beautiful, heavenly aroma of fresh coffee. I push myself up. “Gimme.”
Before I can extend my hand, he wraps my fingers around the handle of the mug with a small smile. “Thanks.” I take a sip. The warm liquid soothes my raw throat. “Not bad,” I say primly. “Still, stay away from me for a week.”
He cocks an eyebrow. “Are you going to hold a grudge?”
“Maybe.” I focus on the coffee. “I think I’m entitled, don’t you?”
“But you got to attack me, get on top of me, and strangle me. Don’t you think that’s worth a little forgiveness?”
“Let me think about it for the next seven days.Alone.”
He laughs. Of course he’s in a great mood. He got laid. He strokes my left cheek gently. “Looks better now.”
“What?”
“Your face. Not so haunted.”
I trace the tingling trail his fingers have left on my cheek, torn between the desire to erase the sensation and hold on to it. “I’m a resilient person.”
“Or maybe my dick’s just that good.”
