My back lifts from the bed, which causes me to thrust forward. I don’t think he expected that, because he gags, his throat closing around me.
The vibration, combined with his fervent attention, sends my orgasm climbing to an unexpected peak.
“Oh f-fuck, I’m going to come. Keo—baby, please.”
That only drives him to work harder, deeper, more deliberate strokes. In less than two passes, I’m a quivering mess. My climax hits so hard I watch it spill from the corners of his mouth.
My legs shake, my body soon too pliant to keep my knees up.
He moves over me, a devious smile on his face. I’m breathing heavily as his thumb hooks over my chin, tilting my mouth wider. He leans in, lips parting, and I watch as my cum drips from the tip of his tongue down onto mine.
The hunger in his eyes as he watches my cum slide toward the back of my throat, has chills of pleasure rippling down my spine.
He lets me go and demands, “Swallow.” I don’t even hesitate and immediately do as he says. “Good boy.”
He leans forward, kissing me until we both yawn, wrapped in each other’s arms, and drifting back to sleep.
41
One Week Before Christmas
How is it possible I’m this hot when there’s four inches of snow on the ground?
I’m shirtless out here in below-zero weather, sweat running from my forehead all the way down my torso. It feels criminal—but at least Ayden is enjoying himself.
“I think we could go for… four more.”
I glance over my shoulder at him, sitting in the replacement double swing we installed a few days ago on the side section of the patio. He’s bundled up in a quilt, sipping hot cider.
Rolling my eyes, I rest the axe handle on my shoulder. “I expect payment for this show I’m putting on. Maybe an early Christmas gift.”
He smiles, raising his mug before taking another sip.
Giving him a playful wink, I turn back to my endeavor.
There’ve been a few trees near the property I’ve wanted to cut down, and one of them just so happened to be the perfect size for our Christmas tree. I’ll deal with the rest come spring.
Readjusting my grip on the axe, I swing down at an angle, striking the “V” mark I carved out.
Over the past couple of weeks, Ayden and I have grown closer—but it’s still been a nightmare. His ex isn’t pulling any punches.
It started with the box. The contents have still gone unconfirmed, but neither of us are stupid. Thankfully, no more showed up. I can’t help but wonder if Levi thought that by not reporting it, Michael would stop, thinking we were unfazed by the attempt to scare us, or whatever.
The first week of December, police came to question Ayden—and me as well. They even showed up at my work to interview Dom and the girls. They attempted to talk with Britt, but in the most legal way possible, she told them to fuck off. According to Ayden’s legal team, they didn’t find it necessary to get a warrant to force her to speak.
Unfortunately, felony charges were filed against Ayden in Colorado, though the judge has paused signing any arrest warrant. Thanks to solid representation, they’re still pushing for more probable cause documentation surrounding the incest allegation.
My own assault charge was dismissed after Ayden submitted the video of Michael pointing a gun in my face.
Our biggest fear right now—the one that feels too real—is Ayden being extradited back to California. With how quickly everything else has happened, we’re just waiting for that letter.
The lawyer’s confident he can prevent it, but it doesn’t settle my mind. If they send him back, he’ll be way too close to Michael. And I know he could blackmail Ayden into dropping the charges just to keep him there.
And then I’d be heading to prison.
Because I’ll blow that mother—swing—fucker’s—swing—head off.
Crack.
