Page 73 of Stealing Blinds

“That sounds crazy, but … since I was young, I could always figure out how magicians did their tricks—or at least have a strong idea. It made my mother nuts.” I laugh, noting how wooden it sounds in the quiet. “She said I missed the magic of life because I never bought into Santa or Tinker Bell, and I knew the guy popping out from an empty trunk was waiting behind the false back. She’d get so frustrated, but in this way that told me she thought it was hilarious.” I blow out a breath, sharing something I haven’t thought about in ages. “She used to sing the chorus of ‘Don’t Stop Believin’ ’ to me anytime I pointed something like that out.”

“By Journey,” Sylvie muses.

“Yeah.” I keep raking my fingers through her hair, like the strands are lifelines to help me finish. “She took me to see David Copperfield shortly before she died, attempting to convince me that the unknown could be enchanting. All it did was make me hungrier to know what was happening in the places I couldn’t see.”

After another choppy exhale, I tie it all up. “Anyway, that night when my house was on fire, it was like I heard her telling me it wasn’t an illusion. So, in the nightmare, she’s burning and panicking and begging me to show her the secret way out. And I can’t.”

A strangled sob rumbles in her lungs as she buries her face in my chest. “God, Cash.”

“Shit,” I hiss, flinching. “Too much?”

“No.” She pops up, gliding her palm over my cheek as a tear slips down hers. “I’m glad you told me. I’m just sad you had to go through that.” She steadies her breathing and lies back down. “You said Axel brought you all closer.”

“He did.” And with that pronouncement, I see the path to her even clearer. “We weren’t easy on him, but no matter what we pulled, he never stopped insisting that we lean on each other. Maddox and I used to laugh after he ranted about sending us to boarding school because that man couldn’t even bear to let us have dinner separately. Even as adults, he requires us to be present for a family meal at least three times a week.”

“And you all love it.”

“We all love it,” I confirm, scratching up and down her bare thigh and breathing easier again. “He couldn’t give us our mom back, but he did a hell of a job giving us a family she’d be proud of.”

“That’s amazing.” She yawns and coils herself tighter around me. “I could tell how close you were that night in San Francisco, and it’s more obvious with every interaction. Even the girls are ride or die for each other and all of you.”

“I’m glad you’ve noticed. We lost everything that night, so while I know it’s not the same, I do understand some of what you’re feeling. You can’t get back what you lost, but you’re in a place that can offer you a life worth fighting for.”

“Maybe,” she whispers, which rings through the air like a small victory. “Let’s see how tomorrow goes.”

We both drift off after that, and the night passes with an odd blend of the deepest sleep and a serene consciousness. Who knew tangled limbs and synchronized heartbeats could be so revitalizing? My silk sheets are vanilla and bourbon and newfound hopes. I’ve never been this at peace.

But as dawn begins to peak, a sense of foreboding clamps my lungs. It’s not the familiar nightmare or anything I’ve experienced before. It’s the realization that holding the greatest treasure means carrying the weight of it possibly being plundered. And for some reason, that feels imminent.

Before I can spiral into whatever foreign trepidation my mind is propelling me into, nirvana finds me. Lips and tongue and a small palm caress my aching cock. I don’t open my eyes because I don’t want to discover it’s a dream, but an unbidden groan blasts out of me.

And breath fans my thighs.

Sylvie’s tongue flicks my piercing—an apadravya, which adorns the head and increases stimulation on the G-spot during intercourse. Then she trails all seven barbells of my Jacob’s ladder. They’re pretty fantastic right now, too, with her mouth on me. When she takes my steel length into the back of her throat, devouring about seventy-five percent of my dick, I have to see it.

Ravenous amber eyes latch to mine, and even though her mouth is full and her head is bobbing, the hint of a grin plays on her cheeks. She was eager for me to wake up.

“So goddamn beautiful, choking on my cock,” I praise in a husky, lust-drenched timbre, reaching to palm her head. “That’s my girl.”

She chases the vein on the underside, whirls the crown, and sucks the tip with a teasing moan. The sultry noise vibrates down my shaft and straight to my balls as she cups them, kneading with expert precision. But, fuck, she’s just getting started.

She massages my taint. Her mouth transforms into a divine wet-and-wild cocoon, frothing more with each deep-throated pass. And her other hand pumps my length, in harmony with her heavenly lips and tongue.

Her cadence never wavers, and if I’m not misreading her face, she’s utterly enthralled by the act. Suffocating herself on my dick, but fully committed. She’s still in my T-shirt, her nipples poking through the cotton to tickle my thighs and the hemline riding up to reveal her toned legs.

“Fucking hell, Sly.” I can’t resist fisting her hair and lifting my hips to push a little further. “That mouth, baby.”

She moans encouragement, urging me to use her. So, I do, and as I readjust for better leverage, my knee rubs against her weeping pussy, and she purrs.

So fucking turned on by blowing me.

My filthy, radiant girl.

“Grind your clit against my leg,” I demand, but her brows knit together, and she pours herself into worshipping my cock. Doubling down on every masterful swipe and touch and lick.

My balls draw up, pressure builds in my abdomen, and a delicious current zips up my spine. I’m so close, but I fight it. Moving my leg back to her cunt, I boost myself onto my elbow, thrust my hips, and rock my shin against her.

“Come with me, Sylvie. You’re so wet for me. I need to see you explode, baby.”