Page 38 of The Villains We Make

“Am I clear?”

She nods, legs stiff as she braces herself for more.

“Good. Open your legs.”

She does, and I cup her wet pussy, then spank it. She jumps. I run two fingers over her clit, push one into her pussy and hear her moan before spanking her lightly again and repeating until she’s dripping, her pussy swollen. I pull her up to straddle my lap, keeping my knees spread, cupping her cheeks, my fingers playing over her sex. I kiss her as she closes a hand over my erection.

“I’m going to make a mental note of how wet you get when I spank you, and when you’re all healed up, we’ll revisit. Now, however, I need to be inside you.” I stand, lifting her and carrying her to the tub. I switch off the water and set her inside it. She watches me strip off my clothes and when I climb in across from her, she comes to me. I take her hips, her knees on either side of me and slide inside her. The heat of her, the tight sheath of her makes me moan as she grips my shoulders and, eyes open, kisses me.

I move slowly, holding her to me, wanting to feel her, wanting to draw this out. We never take our eyes off one another as I make slow love to my wife, opposite of how I fucked her last night. She stretches to fit me as if she were made just for me. She kisses my mouth, my face, my throat as I tease her nipples.

When we’re both close, I grip her hips and fuck her from beneath harder and deeper, water splashing over the edge of the tub as her nails dig into my shoulders. When I close my mouth over her throat and bite the tender flesh there, she throws her head back and moans, clinging to me as she comes, the throbbing walls of her pussy milking me to orgasm.

14

SILAS

Atowel wrapped low around my hips, I stand in front of the bathroom mirror and shave. Ophelia watches me, our eyes meeting in the reflection.

“Why are you staring at me?” I ask.

“Because you’re very beautiful. I always thought so from the first minute I saw you carrying those boxes into the cottage. Do you remember? When I was spying on you with my binoculars.”

“I remember,” I say, then shift my gaze back to the task at hand.

“Had you seen me?”

I smile at the memory and raise my chin to shave my throat. “The sun reflected off the glass and I saw the outline of your hair mostly. It was huge.”

“Shut up.” She throws a discarded towel at me but I dodge it.

“Big head to go with it now,” I tease.

“Hey!”

“At least you’ve grown into it,” I say with a wink.

She rolls her eyes and stands, comes to me. She turns me to face her and takes the razor from me. I raise my eyebrows as she lifts my chin.

“You safe with that thing?” I ask.

“I used to do it for my dad.”

I watch her eyes lose their shine when she mentions her father, but she forces a smile and shaves my throat, rinses and repeats.

“He told me it was him.”

I watch her, not speaking as she moves the razor over my Adam’s apple.

“He paid someone to set the fire. He destroyed our house. All our memories. Everything.”

I keep looking at her. She keeps her eyes focused on the razor.

“He told me he ran away with Mom because my grandfather wanted her to get rid of me. They were never married, and when Mom died, he was scared they’d take me away from him. He never even told them that she was dead. My grandfather didn’t know his daughter was dead.”

Her eyes fill up, and I take her wrist to make her stop. To make her look up at me. I wipe away a tear.

“Our lives were a lie. Everything I ever believed?—”

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