Page 87 of His Pretty Little Duet

And poisonous.

I curl in, clutching at my lower abdomen as it cramps in an intense droning rhythm. Clay isn’t behind me on the bed, but my body screams that his proximity is close. And he is watchful.

I squint at the corner of the room, where a shadow of a man sits, eerily motionless and stiff.

"Are you watching me sleep?" I ask, my voice twisted.

He lets out a rough sigh. "I can'tnot... watch you."

"Clay,"I say his name and it feels right in this moment, because the tormented heat rushes from him is smouldering—concentrated. He needs something. I don't know what. I doubt he'll let me be the person who comforts him—if there is such a position in his life... but I want to try.I blink at the formidable shadow in the corner. "The doctor said there was?—"

"I don't need your reassurances, sweet girl. You fell from the bed writhing in pain."

I force a small smile. "Can't fall off the floor."

He continues, unamused. "You managed to crawl halfway across the carpet before I woke to take you into my arms. I—" He pauses, and the silence that follows feels thick and ominous. "Isleep too contently when you are in my bed. Too comfortable. I should have never let this happen."

"You're not God—" A moan leaves me, and he immediately rises from his seat, moving to the bedside. The mattress dips, rolling my body towards him.

Clay collects me in his arms, cradling me as he sits to rest his spine on the headboard. I snuggle into his large embrace, surrounded by him, enveloped in his long, muscular arms.

He opens his legs, and I slip sideways between his solid thighs, my legs a pyramid over him, my back supported by a thick, powerful bicep. My head flops to the side, meeting his chest, relaxing as I feel the sturdy, commanding drum within. The arm I am resting on hooks around my waist, sliding across my quivering abdomen and down to the seam of my underwear. I catch his wrist, and I feel the rumble of his growl.

“Little deer, that is the second time you have stopped me from touching you where I want. I tolerated the first. I'll take you over my knees this time as soon as you're feeling better."

I blink up at him, meeting his endless blue eyes. “I have a pad on. It’s covered in blood.”

“And you think I somehow forgot such a thing?”

I release his hand, and he continues its descent. He grips the thin strap on the side of my knickers, and I shuffle in his lap so he can slide them up over my knees with the pad still stuck to the inner lining. I kick them off quickly, wanting to get the sight away from him, away from me.God... this man.

He settles my backside on the mattress between his thighs, opening my knees wide. I let my legs fall apart, provoking a satisfied groan to leave his lips at my submission.

My embarrassment lights a furnace below my cheeks, yet I hide it well, nestling into his chest. His fingers trace my lips, and I’m so sensitive there I begin to mewl.

I peer up and watch his heated gaze follow the exploration of his fingers. When he strokes the smooth skin, he says, “Who did this?”

I look down at his fingers. “Did what? Shave?” A nervous sound leaves my throat, a chuckle waving into a scoff. “I did it. I do it. I always—” I clear my throat. “I’ve always shaved ever since I went through puberty.”

“What colour is your hair?”

I swallow thickly. “Blonde. Light.”

“I’d like to see it. Leave it for me, and I’ll shave you from now on, the way I like.” He hums, deep and husky. “You’re just as beautiful here when you’re bleeding as any other time. Do you think your blood makes you less appealing? It is very feminine.” His breath becomes deeper, carrying a groan. I feel his cock like a steel rod under my thigh. “I’m hard just thinking about sinking my cock inside you.”

His forefinger parts my lips, sliding inside me easily within the slick of blood, while his thumb creates little circles around the bud above. I whimper my enjoyment and flush with the unavoidable awkwardness this act brings.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he says, his voice strained. I recognise that twisted cadence. It’s the same sound he made when he said it hurts being near me and not inside me. It’s arousal. “I’ve had a lot of blood on my hands, but never in such a way. Your orgasm will help with the cramps, sweet girl.”

I roll my head on his chest as he worships my inner muscles with thorough, deep thrusts. Massaging the sensitive walls just as he did my body in the bathtub, he adds another finger to better increase the pressure. “That’s my good girl. Your pussy sucks my fingers in so beautifully.”

I tilt my pelvis to join his motion, and he groans, kissing a trail down my forehead until he meets my eager lips. Cupping the side of his neck, the taut muscles cording beneath my palms,I open my mouth for him, taking his tongue inside me as it mimics the thorough rhythm of his fingers.

Our moans and groans spiral together in a combined symphony. Our bodies work together. Mine, lifting to meet his penetration. His, kneading the aching walls, loosening the muscle inside me, ebbing the contracting.

I love you.

I become breathless in his slow but boundless kiss, in the twisting and scooping of his fingers, in the dull throbbing at my womb. It all heightens the pleasure he is building through me, and I can’t decipher one sensation over the next, but it all feelsgood.So good.

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