Page 145 of His Pretty Little Duet

A whimper claws up my throat as he pulls me down, impaling me deep until my pelvis meets his upward thrusts and the head of his cock batters my uterus.

I cry out.

He straightens to hold me, banding his thick, formidable arms around me. Being too full, too quickly, I tremble within the staunch, powerful cage of his body as he whispers by my temple, "You're okay, sweet girl." Then he bursts inside me with a violent groan, still fucking upwards while uttering words of comfort to me. "It'll be okay. Relax around me. Breathe deeply."

His cum eases the sting of his sudden penetration, dripping from inside me and coating us where we connect. There's a lot. My mind reels. That was utterly out of character for him. He's so very rarely impulsive. At the last moment before his orgasm, he flipped the play as though nothing else mattered but filling me. I've wanted him inside me all week, so now that he is, I revel in it. I roll my head on his chest.

Both of his arms drop, his hands resting on either side of my hips, his long fingers spanning the bones. He holds me there but leans back to inspect me. His cool blue eyes rake down my body to where my pussy stretches around his cock. "Such a snug fit, sweet girl. That was careless of me." He pants as he strokes one of his hands up between my breasts before banding my neck. "Luckily, you were soaking. Tell me, does sucking my cock make you wet? Or was it the thought of Aurora's fingers inside you?"

My chest tightens at the hint of bitterness in his tone. "You're angry with me, Sir. Please don't. I didn't?—"

"No." He lifts his hips up as he stirs my pelvis on his lap, his cock flexing inside, forcing a quick soft moan through my lips. "I'm pathetically territorial, little deer. Possessive. So crazy territorial I needed to—" His heated gaze drops to my core, but he doesn't elaborate.

I reach up, touch the wound below his striking blue eye, and try not to wince. "How did you seal it? It needed stitches."

"Glue."

"And this one?" I press my palm to the smooth white scar along his collarbone—tattooed with vines and flowers, the petals appear wilted, at the end of their life. A tattoo equally as beautiful as it is sad. "What happened here? It looks old."

He sighs roughly and covers my hand with his own, together holding the mark that signifies a clearly painful memory.

I don't press him further.

Taking the opportunity while his controlled demeanour seems to be fracturing, I close my eyes, lean in, and pepper my lips along the swollen flesh of his cheek.

My heart balloons when he doesn't stop me but instead sighs roughly, his body relaxing further on the sofa.

Heading down and to the side, my mouth flutters like a feather along his skin until I reach his lips. He deepens our kiss when he releases my hip and threads his fingers through my hair, knotting them in possessively.

Inhaling his breath, I exhale these words: "I love you, Sir. You can be vulnerable with me."

He stills beneath the chaste motion of my mouth, his nose sliding along mine. I open my eyes, meeting his blue gaze inches away. "I am," he states in a way that suggests I should already know this, see this.

I glance at the slice he refused to let me tend to as a sombre feeling shifts through me.

He frowns, seeing the sadness playing across my face. He elaborates, "When I look at you, I'm speechless." His hands tighten in my hair to draw my gaze back to him, to demand my attention. I look into his eyes. "And I'm not often without the right words, sweet girl, but your entire person—" he sighs roughly. "I simply can't believe you were put together with suchperfection. I won't apologise for refusing to taint that with my blood and rot."

"You're not rotten!"

"Yes—" He sweeps his gaze over me, "I am."

No."No," I murmur, heat rushing to the backs of my eyes because how can he talk about himself in such a way when he is the only person on this entire earth who has given me his time, his attention. He's given me everything, for fucksake!No.

I shake my head at him, angry at this life that's so cruel to him and so neglectful to me… He'snotfucking rotten. If he's rotten, then the entire world is the cause, eating at him, ripping the good away, leaving raw, wounded flesh.

Emotions bubble within me, but he halts the rising wave of them when he stands with my legs still wrapped around his waist. His cock grows inside me, flexing with renewed thickness and strength.

He cups the back of my head when he lays me down beneath him on the mattress and begins to roll his hips in an excruciatingly slow and meaningful rhythm.

I grip his shoulders as he rocks up and into me, dragging his long, heavy body along mine to remain close and deep.

I'm dizzy from every inch of his steady, tireless thrusting as the evening rolls on with him inside me. Close.

Soon, I'm coming with a throaty cry, tightening my thighs around him, hugging him.

And he comes inside me again.

Clay

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