Page 15 of Deadmen's Queen

“Paige...” I groaned against her wet heat, my breath fanning over her sensitive flesh. She shuddered above me, her grip on my cock tightening in response.

“Don't...stop,” she panted, her body starting to tremble.

I kept up the assault on her clit with renewed vigour, determined to drive her over the edge. Her grip on my cock became unbearable, squeezing and sliding in a maddening tempo that made it difficult for me to breathe.

I slid a finger in, and then a second, the sensation of her tightening around me making me groan. The sounds she was making were driving me wild, her body moving in rhythm with my tongue. Her hand tightened in my hair, her obvious pleasure making my cock harder than I thought possible. I pushed a third finger into her soaking pussy making her gasp, then dragging it back to push against her ass. She jerked against me as I pushed it inside her back entrance.

“Fuck, Tristan!” She whimpered and moved faster, her walls pulsing around my fingers that I thrust deep inside her. Her hand on my cock matched my rhythm, and I sped up, thrusting my hips up, needing more.

She was on the edge; I could feel it. Her body began to quiver above me, her movements more erratic. And then she froze, her body locking up as she cried out. Her sweet release gushed over my mouth and onto my fingers.

“Fucking hell, Tris!” She cried out, her body trembling as the waves of her climax washed over her. Her grip on my cock tightened almost painfully, and I groaned against her flesh as my own orgasm built.

She didn't stop, but kept on riding me, riding my mouth and hand even as she came apart. I sped up my movements, pushing up into her hand as I drank down every drop of her sweetness. She continued to shudder against me, little aftershocks coursing through her body.

“Tris...I need to stop...” she gasped, trying to slide off of me. I held her hips firmly in place, not allowing her to move.

“No, you don’t,” I growled against her heat before diving back in. She gave a startled yelp that turned into a moan as I resumed, only increasing the pressure, wanting to devour every inch of her again.

“Tris, Tris please,” she pulled away, then pushed back down, her hips riding my face, chasing another climax. Watching her inhibitions fall away as she lost control was enough to tip me over the edge, and I groaned her name against her soaking pussy as I came in thick hot spurts over her hand. I pushed my fingers deeper, curling them round and she screamed my name as she came again, shuddering as she fell apart on top of me. I continued to lap at her pussy until the waves subsided, and gently eased my fingers out of her and pulled back slightly so she could slide down onto the couch beside me.

“That was...” She trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

“Amazing?” I supplied with a grin. She looked at me from beneath long lashes and nodded. “You tasted divine,” I said leaning over to give her a soft kiss, before getting up and heading over to the kitchenette for a damp towel. After cleaning myself off, I found another clean one, and passed it to Paige, taking that moment to do up my jeans again to give her some privacy.

I sat back down, but this time, I pulled her onto my lap, wrapping my arms around her. Her body moulded perfectly against mine as she snuggled into me. Her fingers began tracing idle patterns on my chest, and I held her closer.

“How do you feel?” I asked her.

She thought for a moment. “Safe. Happy.” she yawned, and I laughed.

“And tired.”

“And tired,” she admitted with a smile. “What about you?”

“Much the same,” I said. “And a little confused.”

“Confused?”

“Yeah.” I nodded towards the screen at the actress currently falling into bed with the male lead. “I thought she was going out with the other guy?”

Chapter Six

NATE

“Look, I don't know what you want, but I've got nothing to say to you,” Alan spat, his voice rough with fear and anger.

“Alan, listen to me. We have no interest in you. Not really. We just want to ask you a few questions, and you aren’t being very forthcoming.”

Alan Fishwick was bound tight to one of his rather rickety kitchen chairs, his breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. His split lip oozed a little blood, a dark contrast to his pale, sweat-slicked skin.

I’d like to say the room was dark with a single bulb hanging above him, spotlighting his sorry self, but it was mid-afternoon, and we didn’t have the time for dramatics.

“Fuck you,” he spat.

Bast sighed. He sat opposite Alan, the chair backwards, his arms resting on the back and his legs astride it.

“It’s simple, Alan,” Bast continued, unfazed by the silence. “You were on duty at my girl’s dorm five out of seven nights of the week, and somehow a man got past you in the early hours of the morning on over thirty different occasions to push threatening notes under her door. Over thirty times, Alan. Now, how did you manage to miss that?”

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