Page 72 of The Heir

“All of you. I need you to love me,” she whispered, sounding so vulnerable I let go of her wrist and ran my hand up the path of her spine. I leaned into her, chasing it with kisses.

I gently slid my hand over the base of her throat and jerked my hips, penetrating her with a sudden weighted stab of a thrust. My hand stroked her throat simultaneously, but I didn’t squeeze,so I distinctly heard the sharp whimper of pain that came with the tightest instinctive cunt clenching I’d ever experienced.

She made a few strangled, painful sounds and her shoulders tensed around her neck, blocking my kisses, and forcing me to move my hand a little.

“Hey–” I whispered, only to be met with shaking thighs.

She didn’t say anything, but I had a really bad feeling it was her first time. I ran a hand over her back, stroking it until she raised her face and braved a look at me.

“Sorry,” she shyly whispered.

“For what?” I flinched.

“You probably didn’t want someone lame in bed– I– I’ll learn to take it.”

“Take it–” I reached down and plucked my dick from her, earning a sharp hiss out of her.

“I’m so sor–” I didn’t wait for her to finish apologizing; I manhandled her to her back and threw her legs apart.

“Blaze,” she shrieked as I leaned down and pressed a firm kiss to her hot, little clit.

I stuffed two fingers into her, swiped as much blood-tinged pussy liquor as I could gather and swiped it over my cheekbone with a laugh.

“What the fuck are you sorry for?” I asked, hiking my brows up when the only answer I got was her slack-jawed stare.

“This is mine. Am I supposed to be upset that no one else ever had the chance to sample it first? I’m not. Sorry, not sorry.” I dipped down and slurped her iron-tinged essence and Frenchkissed her clit with patient, loving strokes that left her raising her hips off the bed.

I ate her pussy until she’d came so many times her body was limp on the bed. Only then did I scale my way up that beautiful women and slip my cock back inside her. Her hips arched and her eyes widened.

“You feel so fucking good,” I groaned against her lips.

I snaked my arms around her, enveloping her even as I buried my cock with torturously slow strokes that left me gritting my teeth. My eyes rolled back when I felt the ridge of my head catch on the rim of her pussy. I rushed back into her and clung to her shoulder while I ground. Her slick cunt was mesmerizing, and I grunted, losing myself to the tangling of our bodies. Her lust drunk blue eyes locked on me and my balls tightened. I was growing vocal as the cum started to boil. Each stroke made that zinging more pronounced as I edged closer to my end. I clung to her and shoved my cock into her until that clenching cunt gripped solid and I spilled with her name on my lips.

“March. My Marchella,” I repeated, until she finally grabbed my jaw and shut me up with a kiss.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Marchella

I slept deeper than I had in years, cocooned in his arms. Every time he stirred, he sprinkled kisses along the back of my shoulder and snuggled in closer. I was lost in a warm, comfortable dream when I heard a throat distinctly and pointedly clear.

My lashes fluttered and a slender, pretty blonde came into focus. There was a mountain of a man behind her and people sprinkled along the hallway. Before my scrambled, sleep-riddled brain could register that it was his mother and Oak, a blood-curdling scream flew from between my lips.

Blaze snapped up, became aware of the presence, and promptly flung me by the shoulder, slinging my body half behind his body as he came up ready to take on the world.

“What the fuck?” he blurted out, his expression contorting, even as he wildly rubbed his face.

“Exactly,” his mother clapped back. “What. The. Fuck. Blaze? You think maybe you could get the hoodrat-dressed and get her the fuck out of here? And what the fuck is that smeared on your face…? You know what– I don’t want to know.”

“Hoodrat…” His eyes nearly bugged out of his head.

I was still waking up and hadn’t realized she was insulting me. I was too busy turning ten shades of red at the obvious dried smears of my virginity blood he was still wearing like war paint.

“That hoodrat is my fuckin’ wife!” he roared.

The sharp, high-pitched laugh that trickled from Crystal and lit up her eyes scared me a little. I clutched the cover to my chest and tried to wrap it around me, leaving Blaze to freeball while he argued with his mother.

I could tell by her tone, that she already suspected what was on his face, damned if I was going to flash my bloodstained thighs and confirm it.

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