Page 230 of Overcast

“We’re at a stalemate then, sweetheart. And you promised.” I hum in agreement, brushing along his groin to the semi-hardness that already began in his boxers. “Are you going to touch it, Stormi, or just drive me nuts?”

I slowly drop to my knees, keeping my eyes locked on his. “I don’t know...I think you’ve been wanting to get back at me for what I did.”

“More than you know,” he grumbles.

I bite down on my lower lip, watching his face transform, no longer annoyed with my little “stunt” as he called it but aroused.

Carefully, I tug down the cotton material, making sure I don’t mess with the bandage behind his thigh and let them fall to his ankles. His fully erect dick welcomes me with a salute as I ignore Marty and focus on the task at hand.

I should be over all the butterflies by now, but they flutter and knock into each other as I grip Marty’s cock. He moans, fisting his hands at his sides to keep from launching into full horny Marty mode.

Yes, I have a name for it, and he’s heedless and negligent, something he can’t be with his injury.

Wrapping my lips around his warm tip, his large body bows forward slightly, lacing his fingers through my thick locks.

“Fuck,” he groans. “Stormi...shit, baby.”

With his encouragement, I take him deeper. Not only because I love him wild but because I’m captivated with making him vulnerable, and he’s letting me.

I’m aware it’s not easy for him. That it’s something he doesn’t’ care to be or is used to but, with me, he’s limitless.

And I’m lucky enough to see this side of him. To worship and touch this man who claims to be a monster not my prince.

I’d have it no other way.

Princes are overrated and snobs. Monsters are calculated and fearless. Their morals may be questionable, but during the hardest and scariest times, they’ll do anything to keep you safe.

“Yes,” he encourages, gradually submerging himself deeper. “Right there. I should fuck all your bad ideas out of your head.”

I bob in agreement, knowing that he’s going to make me gag because I haven’t learned to relax all the way yet. To my response, he cups both of my cheeks and fucks my mouth. Not as hard as he has before because of his wound but enough to where his moans are becoming more frequent, and his fingers are digging deeper into my skull.

After a minute or two, I release his hardness with a pop and shakily rise to stand. His hands grasp my elbows, helping me up, and I jerk towards his—our—bed.

“Lay down,” I order, to which he doesn’t protest with a glare or raised brow. Instead, he keeps his grip on me and guides us to the mattress.

Slowly he sits then pushes himself backward to get centered, but he doesn’t do what I ask.

“Do you need a pain killer?” I ask him, watching the look of what appears to be discomfort.

He shakes his head. “No, I want you.”

“Then lay down.”

“Get naked.”

This man.

Looping my thumbs under the straps of my dress, I let it cascade down my shoulders before shimming out of the fabric. Marty’s eyes absorb my body, sending excited tingles through every inch of my flesh.

He makes me feel beautiful, unstoppable. As though I’m the only thing he can see.

Standing in only a pink bra and panties, Marty’s lust-filled irises meet mine. “Still dressed, sweetheart.”

My lips heave and, like one of the strippers at Dougie’s I leisurely sway my hips, thumbing the waistline of my panties.

“I’m counting each one of your teases,” Marty claims with narrowed eyes. “Just wait until I’m up and running around.”

I swivel, allowing the cotton fabric to dip over my ass. “Like this?”

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