Page 143 of Shadows in Bloom

“I can’t wait to be inside you, Professor,” I tease against the curve of his neck, feeling a shudder run through him. “Can’t wait to feel you take all of me. Do you want that? Want me to tear through you with my dick?”

He nods, clawing at the sheets.

“You need to be quiet for me, understood? My parents are downstairs and will hear you if you make noises.”

“Fuck.” Hiding his face in the blanket, I yank him by the hair again, my dick lined up with his primed ass.

When I release his sweaty strands, I clamp my hand over his mouth to muffle him and he grunts, his breath wafting through my fingers when I thrust forward.

He tightens his grip on the sheets and whimpers in a heady mixture of pain and pleasure, pleading wordlessly for more. My hips slam against his ass harder and faster, and I press my wet lips to his ear while fucking him into the mattress. I’ve waited so long for this moment—to feel his tight ass squeeze my dick and his panting breaths waft over my hand through his nostrils. I’ve stalked him, invaded his privacy, and even killed for him, all so that I could savor his pain and witness his eyes rolling back. For me.

He’s fucking mine. Mine, mine, mine.

I chant the word, grinding my dick deep in his ass until he’s groaning loud enough beneath my palm that I worry my parents will hear. “Don’t come yet,” I warn before pulling out and flipping him over.

Fuck… He has such a perfect dick. Long and thick and veiny. Resting against his stomach, the crown leaks precum as I kneel between his legs.

Palming his balls with one hand, I massage them gently while fingering his ass. I thrust deep, watching his dick bob on his stomach, smearing cum everywhere in the most erotic sight I’ve ever seen. “You’re making a mess, Professor.”

“Fuck,” he groans, fisting the sheets on either side of him.

“Jerk your dick for me. Make yourself come.”

Shifting closer, I guide his ankles onto my shoulders, and he palms his length, jacking it in long, sensual strokes. His eyes roll back once more as I replace my fingers with my dick and push inside, seating myself balls deep.

“I’ll never get enough of you.” I flash him a smile, pulling out to the tip and slamming back inside. “This tight ass is perfection. You are everything I’ve ever dreamed of.” Each word is accentuated with a powerful thrust.

A bead of sweat trails down my temple, and strands of my dark hair stick to my forehead as I fall forward and brace my hands on the mattress on either side of his head. I look down between our bodies, watching his ass swallow my dick over and over. This is the best sex I’ve ever had, and it’s more than the act of fucking—it’s him. He makes me feel this way.

When I look up in time to watch ropes of cum squirt from his dick and coat his sweaty chest, my own length swells in his ass, and I come so hard that I collapse on top of him.

Moments pass where we’re a heap of sweaty limbs and trembling breaths, caught in each other and drowned by this mutual desire.

“You’re mine,” I pant against the crook of his neck, his pulse thundering against my lips.

He shifts and then his fingers slide through my hair to pull on the damp strands and tug a little too hard. His words settle my thrashing heartbeat. “I’m yours.”

CHAPTER 8

CRUZ

I’m finally at peace—happy even—but it doesn’t last, like all good things we work hard for. Sooner or later, the tables turn against us. A part of me isn’t even surprised when Marshall’s crackling voice pulls me from my blissful dreams.

“What’s this, Cruz?”

I’m lying on my front with my arms tucked under the pillow. The quilt shifts around my hips as I stir. Fuck, I could sleep all day. Marshall was out like a light after I sucked him off in the early hours, determined to wring a second orgasm out of him. A week has passed since he admitted that he’s mine, and I’ve made him say it, again and again, every chance I get, oftentimes when my dick is buried deep in his ass and he’s coming all over himself.

I rub my face against the soft fabric at the sound of Marshall's haunted voice before peering over my shoulder. He holds up the blood-splattered jigsaw mask in his trembling hand, and I shift onto my back.

My heart thuds as I take him in. This is really fucking bad. The way he looks at me now is different than when he saw me with a woman between my legs. Fear mixes with betrayal in his eyes, and I know I’m at risk of losing him if I don’t silence the voices in his head. I should have burned the mask instead of hiding it in my closet, but a part of me—a sinister, self-indulgent part—enjoys revisiting that night and the lengths I’ll go to protect what’s mine.

“You promised me you didn’t kill her, Cruz.”

“Did I? Must have slipped my mind.” Tossing the quilt to the side, I slide out of bed and unfold like a lazy cat as I rise to my full height. Marshall swallows and drops his eyes to my hardening dick. I’ve never been prouder of my physique than I am now as the mask shakes in his grip. I know what he sees: the mussed-up hair, the rippling muscles, the arousal.

When I eat up the space between us, his breath hitches and he darts to the left, but I intercept him. “Where are you going, Marshall?”

“You’re sick, Cruz.”

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