“Freak, please…”
I’m not quite sure who I’m torturing most. Me, or her. Maybe at some point I’ll have the patience to edge her, but for now I just want to see her fly apart. Replacing my tongue with my fingers and curling them up inside her, I go back to sucking her clit that’s now peeping out from under its hood.
“Freak, Freak…” Her hands are clasping the sheets.
Increasing my movements, I feel her body tensing, I continue my ministrations, knowing she’s climbing higher and higher asI eat her out like a starving man. Her back bows off the bed, she stills, then starts convulsing, her body pulsing around my fingers as though she’s trying to pull them inside. For a second I swear she stops breathing.
“Oh, Freak, oh. Fuckin’ hell. Ouch, that hurts. No, don’t stop Freak. Ow, ow, ow.”
With a few last circles of my tongue around her clit, I lift my mouth, look at her face, and rear back, unable to tell if her expression is one of ecstasy or torture.
“Oh, fuck, babe. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Just give me a minute,” she manages to huff out, her arms cradling her body.
I give her the time, watching her intently, as her expression shifts from a smile to a grimace then back again. Finally, she relaxes and starts breathing normally, if shallowly.
I can’t resist asking, “So, was that you faking it?”
She bursts out laughing. Big mistake. “Oh, fuck, Freak. Don’t make me laugh. And what do you think?”
“Well, according to you, a mere mortal man can’t tell.”
“Stop, Freak. Just stop.” Her mouth curves as she tries not to give into her mirth. Once her breathing has steadied again, she places her hands on the bed to support her and gingerly pushes herself up. “I don’t think I can take any more for now.”
Immediately I sober, I have to put her needs first. Though my dick could hammer nails, she’s in pain and needs time to recover. I hide my disappointment, and just relish in my pride that I’d done something that was just for her. She surprises me when she slides off the bed, lowers to her knees, and uses her hands to position my legs where she wants them. Situating herself between my thighs, she pulls down my zipper, takes out my cock, licks it from the stem to tip, then looks up at me with her head tilted to one side.
“I presume you’ll settle for a blow job?”
Would I. “Just get to it, woman,” I growl.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
FREAK
And she does get to it. Boy, does she get to it.
Ask me to number the times I’ve had my dick sucked and I wouldn’t even be able to give an estimate. I will admit, I’ve never had an experience like the one with Trixie this morning. I swear I lost consciousness, it felt like my brains were being sucked out through my dick. I recognised the reason why it was so much better. For one, the person kneeling at my feet was the person who I realise I love. For another, that she’s feeling the same way for me was shining out of her eyes. She wasn’t playing a role as a club girl, doing what was expected of her. She really wanted to give me pleasure, and not because it was her job.
All that was evident in the way she touched me, whether with her hands, talented tongue or lips, and when she teasingly grazed me with her teeth. It showed in how she kept her eyes on my face, analysing how her actions were affecting me and adjusting what she was doing based on my reaction. There was no hurry, no race to the end. It’s hard to put into words the connection we shared. It made such a difference I could never have expected in my wildest dreams.
Once she’d finished me off and swallowed every drop, it was time for me to get to church. After kissing her, not even caring I could taste myself, as it was mingling with the remaining tang of her in my mouth, I’d left the room feeling I was walking on air.
At one time Trixie might have given all my brothers blow jobs, and probably multiple times, but I can fucking guarantee they hadn’t had one anywhere near what I had just experienced. The difference between an action fuelled by love, rather than duty or expectation was out of this world. As I walk toward my fate, there’s a spring in my step, and in my mind there’s clarity. It no longer matters to me that Trixie’s been a club girl. Like it doesn’t bother her that I’ve been with uncountable numbers of women.
My greatest desire is to make love to her properly, and I can’t do what I want until her sore ribs are healed. It makes me want to go back and kill Candyman all over again. But I’ll wait. I’ve no desire to find a substitute to tide me over, even my hand’s going to get a reprieve. And that cements just how deeply I feel about her. I’ll wait, because one day in the not-so-distant future I’ll brush the dust off my handcuffs…
In another hour, or maybe even less, I could be kicked out of the club. But even that thought doesn’t stop the smile spreading on my face as I envision her, captive on my bed, blindfolded while I work her over with a flogger, and maybe some other toys I’ve neglected for far too long. Oh, yeah, when she’s healed, we’re going to have fun.
“Fuck me, Freak’s fuckin’ grinning.” Woody looks much like he’s seen an apparition as I enter the meeting room. He even goes so far as to cross himself. “Now I’m fuckin’ scared about this emergency meeting.”
“Doesn’t look like a man whose kid was kidnapped the day before last,” Rat remarks scornfully, sitting back and linking his hands behind his head.
Winchester plants his fist in Rat’s arm. “He looks like a man whose kid was returned unharmed.”
“Still don’t trust that smile.” Woody’s back on topic again.
Making an effort to force my features into their customary scowl, I take out my seat and sit down. My eyes do a tour of the table. Everyone except Bullseye and Saint are here. A couple are complaining that their afternoon’s been interrupted. Others are discussing among themselves possible reasons for the impromptu meeting. Words and Stalker punctuate their discussion with the kind of gestures that make me think they’re talking about their bikes.
