Page 39 of Tyrant

“I want to be gentle with you. Need to be.”

“What if I don’t need gentle?”

I kiss her temple. “You do.”

“I just want you. It’s such a mess.”

“I should go.”

“No!” She grasps my tie again. The thing is a goddamn noose. It’s utterly ridiculous, trying to be respectable. “Don’t go. Please. I need you. I need you so badly.”

I won’t give her what she wants, but I’ll give her what she needs. Right now, that’s tenderness all mixed up with fire. It’s more than just grief clouding her mind. I’ve tried to be a good man, but good is a relative fucking word. She’s always been my weakness, especially when she looks at me with those huge, tear-stained eyes.

“Gray,” she hisses, nearly killing me.

I grasp the hem of her dress and drag it thoroughly up to her hips, wrenching it out from under her ass.

She’s wearing a plain little thong. Black, like her dress, the fabric darker where she’s soaked through. I force myself to be a gentleman and shove the fabric aside instead of tearing it off her. I sigh with satisfaction when the treasure of her glistening, smooth pussy is revealed.

I slip two fingers inside of her to the first knuckle. Fuck, she’s tight. Call me crude, but I thought that childbirth was possibly supposed to have an effect on that. Lark was probably the most beautiful pregnant woman. I imagine her with a gently rounded bump, her hand on top of mine, guiding me to feel our baby’s kicks.

I want it so damn bad, that picture for our future, that my jaw audibly creaks when I grind my teeth together.

I remove my fingers and drag them through her wet slit. Getting down on my knees and lapping up her sweetness would be better than wasting it on the counter, but I know I won’t keep myself in control if I taste her.

She can taste herself instead.

I roll my fingers in her wetness, soaking them to my knuckles, brushing them over her sensitive clit until she whimpers, and then I swipe them over her lips, painting them. The sunlight is coming in through windows just right to illuminate the new sheen on them.

“I’ve been starving for you, Birdie,” I tell her honestly. I should shut the fuck up. I know that. I can’t. “You want me, you’ll have every bit of me.” I’m not trying to sway her decision. I shouldn’t be here at all, but all I can do is trace the perfect detail of her lips and then bring my hand lower, teasing her clit and sweeping to her entrance.

She spreads her legs wide, but she doesn’t throw her head back again. She watches me line my fingers up with her hole and push them inside. I don’t stop this time. I fill her just because I know she’s watching. I make her take it all to the knuckles and then I curl them. She starts to pant, but she keeps watching as I thrust them slowly, filling her while she weeps all over my hand. I spread her open with my other hand and my woman doesn’t make a sound of protest. All she does is whimper and pant. I reward her with gentle circles to her clit while I finger fuck her nice and slow, hitting all those delicious spots inside of her.

She squirms against me, trying to get closer. Finally, she takes my wrist and holds on as I fuck her. “Please,” she whimpers. “Please, Gray, I need more.”

“No.” I’m not here to tease her or deny her, but I’m firm on this.

I’m giving her a release and then I’m leaving and she’s coming with me, going straight to that lunch that the family is hosting at the town hall not far from the graveyard. They’re probably there already. I’m a sick fuck for thinking it, but having her walk into that room, upright and flushed and okay because I took care of her, fills me with pride and wonder.

“No, darlin’,” I say, softening my tone. “But I will let you come.” I fuck her harder, reaching higher inside of her, curling at the end. I work her clit her in beautiful circles, winding her closer and closer. “Come on my fingers like a good girl.”

“Stop bossing me around,” she mutters, but the words are muffled and wrecked through her clenched teeth.

I double my efforts. She can’t hold out. The house is perfectly air conditioned, but she’s sweating. I break my own rules and give myself a taste. I dive in, slant my mouth over hers, and kiss her brutally. She parts her lips for me immediately, kissing me fiercely in response. Her tongue strokes mine and I taste the tang of peanuts and grape jelly. And her, from when I painted her lips earlier.

“This isn’t you, touching yourself in the dead of night, thinking about me. This is me. I’m real. This life can be sweet, even if it’s bitter too. I’ll always give you the best of everything I have. Always put your first. Always make you come so good and hard that you feel me for days.” I split my fingers apart, giving Lark all she can handle, press them into a wicked hook, andmake her come so hard she screams loud enough for half the block to hear.

“Love that sass,” I whisper low in her ear while I’m still pumping in and out of her and she’s still moaning, riding my hand, and soaking both of us.

I withdraw my fingers when she’s coming down and cup her pussy because I just can’t help myself.Mine. Mine forever. Let me be the only man who ever gets to see you, touch you, taste you, love you, do life with you.

She opens her eyes so slowly, blinking at me, then staring straight at my cock. It’s more than obvious in this stupid suit just how badly she’s got me twisted inside out with need.

“Does that hurt?”

“Yes.”

She grins at me wickedly, readjusts her panties, pulls down her dress, and slides off the counter. I didn’t think she could get hotter, but when she grabs the dishcloth from the sink, pours soap into it, wets it, and washes off the counter, I know I was wrong.

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