Page 22 of Bombshell

We were just Effie and Dallan and that was perfect.

Even just the thought of that made my vines tighten around Dallan’s torso and biceps, urging him to move faster as the roughness of our lovemaking pushed us across the bed until my head was nearly hanging off the other end.

Usually we would pause at this point and readjust, but Dallan didn’t seem like he was going to stop any time soon and I didn’t want him to.

Instead he just cupped the back of my head in one of his massive hands and tucked his face into my neck, the tentacles along his jaw caressing my face as I felt his thrusts start to stutter and his breathing become more ragged.

Dallan growled and muttered something under his breath and suddenly we were flipped into a kneeling position in themiddle of the bed, my thighs pushed astride his lap and shifting my clit into just the right position that the shaft of his cock brushed against it with each thrust as he continued to move.

Come for me, Lass,Dallan’s voice rang in my head, his hands dimpling my ass as he pushed me down further than I thought possible. His teeth brushed the side of my neck, right where he knew I was the most sensitive and that was all I needed to tumble right over the edge.

I came with a scream, throwing my head back and letting him continue to trail hot kisses down my collarbone and on the tops of my breasts.

The sensation was almost electric, like a wash of hot-then-icy fire was whipping through me as I sucked in a harsh breath around the thrum of my pulse in my ears.

Dallan wasn’t long after me, the muscles in his thighs tightening as he thrust up into me once, then twice, and finally a third time before he spilled deep inside of me, my body heat quickly warming his normally cool seed.

Then we collapsed together, Dallan flipping us both sideways so that we were laying amongst the ridiculous amount of fluffy pillows I kept on my bed.

We stared at each other for a long time after that, catching our breaths as the only sounds in the room could be heard from the nightlife on the Wharf down below.

“Are you going to kick me out now?” Dallan asked after a few minutes, his thumb tracing circles on my cheek as he yawned, clearly tired from all of the work he’d just done.

I thought about it and my knee-jerk reaction was to put the walls back up in order to protect myself… but that was starting to get old, even for me. I still hadn’t forgotten the sheer force of my regret at not letting him sleep next to me last time and it had nearly done me in.

So I shook my head. “No, not this time.”

The gold of Dallan’s irises swelled with an emotion that made me want to cry. He looked relieved, his shoulders sinking with it as he pulled me in closer. He opened his mouth to say something but the movement he’d just made caused an avalanche of pillows to rain down around us, keeping him from doing so.

Dallan pushed them away with irritation, sending them falling onto the floor. “I’ve always meant to ask this, but why do you have so many damned pillows? You can’t possibly sleep on them all.”

I grinned at him, reaching up to pat one of the ones that had survived. “For the aesthetic.”

Truth be told it was definitely a pain in the ass to remove all of the cute little throw pillows and stick them in the cedar chest at the end of the bed every night… but the look on Dallan’s face suddenly made it all worth it.

“I don’t think I’ll ever understand that,” he grumbled a yawn before tucking his face into the side of my neck. It was clear our mid-afternoon romp was definitely about to turn into an early evening nap.

And somehow the thought of it didn’t send a bolt of panic rushing through me.

Maybe that one therapist I saw in the mid-eighties was right. Maybe Ididneed to face my fears head on and move past them.

Who’d have thought?

I snuggled in close to Dallan, inhaling a lungful of his scent and finally let each muscle in my body relax until I fell fast asleep, comfortable in the arms of the man who’d spent decades trying to coax me out of my paranoid, anxious shell.

“So, I’m just organizing all of our invoices for the tax audit that isn’t happening yet but definitely will?” Daphne asked, scrunching her nose with confusion as she glanced between me and the computer screen in front of her.

It was the morning after Dallan had slept in my apartment with me, and surprisingly enough, there had been no feelings of regret or like I’d fucked everything up. No, on the contrary I’d been woken up by Dallan’s cock slipping in between my thighs from behind for a slow and glorious lovemaking session.

I was still practically glowing with it and trying to ignore Daphne’s curious but all knowing gaze as we went over what the upcoming tax season was going to look like.

When we’d first hired her I’d made sure to have her go through all of the invoices that the artists had haphazardly entered into their tablets when working with clients and organize and digitize them. Now we just needed to use that for what was going to be our usual and inevitable tax audit.

“We’ve been audited nearly every year since we opened up our doors,” I told her dryly. “The IRS does not trust a supernaturally run business. Those pencil pushers constantly think we’re trying to pull a fast one on them and steal tax money.”

Which we definitely were. How the fuck does one pay taxes on a pot of leprechaun gold, anyway? Or the set of enchanted keys that a pixie used to pay for her tattoo that were hanging on a hook upstairs because I still had no idea where the fuck they were supposed to go or even what the strange enchantment on them was.

All the damn woman had said as she admired her full back tattoo, courtesy of Ambrose, was that‘the person who needs them the most will know what to do with them.’

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