Page 53 of These Deadly Vows

I run a finger through her slit. “Anyone ever kissed you here?”

She shakes her head.

“I’m getting all of your first.” I hook my arms under her thighs and rub nose along the same path my finger took, inhaling her musky womanly scent. “I’m going to kiss you right here.” I give her a lick.

“Please,” she pants, her pussy dripping with the need. “Be with me. Please.”

“Please what?”

“Ghost,” she whines.

“Tell me what you want, and I’ll give you my real name.”

“Your mouth.” She squirms.

“What about it?”

“Do that thing again with your tongue.”

“Tell me, Adeline.”

“Fuck me with your mouth,” she cries out.

“Good girl.” Spreading her pussy lips, I get down to business and reclaim another piece of the man I once was. I allow myself to let go and give something to Adeline I’ve not done for any other woman since Victoria.

The threads binding me to the past begin to unravel, releasing me from the promises I made to a dead woman. She’s nothing but a distant memory. Adeline is here. Writhing beneath me. Eager to please me. Ready to give me anything I want and more.

And she does.

Fuck is she giving me the fantasy.

Digging her fingers into my scalp, she holds my head in place, practically smothering me in her pussy. I’m not complaining. I only regret not tasting her sooner.

Adeline is primed and ready to come for me. Her soft pants build to loud moans as her back arches. She flexes her hips, moving her body in rhythm with my tongue and fingers. Her juices drip down my chin she’s so wet.

“Ghost. Ah,” she says like my name on her tongue is her last prayer.

“It’s Lorenzo, princess.”

“Lorenzo,” she parrots.

“Yeah.” I curl two fingers insider her, making a come here motion, hitting her magic spot.

Adeline shudders and shakes. Her fucking sweetness melts like sugar on my tongue, and I can’t get enough.

Chapter Seventeen

Ghost. Lorenzo. I don’t know which to call him, snakes up my body, dragging his lips across my skin in a wet, fiery trail, stopping to pay attention to each of my breasts. He reaches my mouth and doesn’t hesitate to kiss me. If I didn’t know better, I’d believe this is a lot like making love. He’s looking at me and touching me in a way no one has ever dared.

I don’t see lust in his eyes. There’s something else there that terrifies me. I vowed to make him love me and now that I think he could be starting to fall, I don’t know if I have it in me to hurt this man.

I know I’m completely fucked in the head. Maybe I have Stockholm’s Syndrome. Because I can’t formulate any other explanation for the emotions flowing through me as he lines up and thrusts deep and hard. Thoughts that have me wishing that I could give him back what he lost. A wife. His child. One out of two isn’t so bad. I could be the someone to love him unconditionally and fix what my father broke inside him that made him think he had no other choice than to kill.

It’s hard to remember that I hate him.

That he hates me.

The line between love and hate is so blurred I’m not sure there’s even a line as he moves on top of me, doing his best to make a baby with me.

---