Page 81 of Pit

“Please,” I murmur, rubbing myself against him. “We won’t know if I’m ready unless we try.”

He groans, half in frustration and half in pain. I smirk, knowing I’m going to win as I push my hands under his shirt, enjoying the feel of his skin under my palms.

“I’m not gonna touch you unless you tell me to,” he promises, placing his hands behind his head.

I grin wider. “You’re giving me control?”

He gives a slight nod, his face suddenly serious. “It’s what you need.”

I push his shirt up and take in his toned abs. Leaning closer, I gently kiss his warm skin. I inch down his body as I trace kisses lower, gripping the button of his jeans and gently tugging it open. I glance up to see him watching me with caution.

Chance has gotten bored, and he wanders off to find the others, leaving us alone.

I lower his zipper, and he lifts his hips so I can drag his jeans down his thighs. I leave them at his knees and hook my fingersinto his boxer shorts. His erection springs free, and I lick my lips as I take it in my hand and rub my thumb over the end, scooping up the bead of pre-cum and licking it. Pit’s eyes darken, and I smile at him as I run my tongue over the tip of his cock. He hisses as I suck him into my mouth and cup his balls, just like he’d showed me to.

When he’s groaning in pleasure, I let him fall from my mouth and crawl back up his body until I can feel his cock pressed against my underwear. “Can we try?” I whisper.

He nods. “Back pocket, wallet,” he pants.

I reach into his pocket and pull out his wallet, opening it and arching a brow at the wedge of bank notes there. He smirks, and I pull out a condom. I rip it open, and he takes it from me, making quick work of rolling it over himself. I stand, shimmying out of my underwear, which he takes from me and places in the inside pocket of his kutte.

Hovering over him, I grip his cock in my hand and rub it against my opening. It feels nice, so I carefully lower onto him, moving slowly as he opens me up. I place both hands on his chest, closing my eyes as he fills me inch by inch. Once he’s in as far as I can take him, I still, staring down at him. He’s still got that cautious look about him, like he’s waiting for me to break.

I begin to move, and he moans in pleasure. “Touch me,” I whisper.

“Where?”

I take his offered hands and slide them under my shirt and to my breasts. He cups them, and I’m relieved I didn’t put on a bra today as he teases my nipples. I move faster, needing to release. “Jesus,” he mutters, squeezing his eyes closed.

I feel the warmth spreading up through me, causing my body to shake uncontrollably, and then it hits me, ripping through me. I shudder hard, dragging my nails down his chest. Pit grips my waist and thrusts up into me, chasing his own release. Whenhe finally stills, his chest heaves and his breaths are rapid. I lie against his chest, smiling as his fingers run through my hair.

“Are you okay?” he eventually asks.

“Yes,” I whisper, running my own fingers over his nipple. “Amazing. I told you I wasn’t going to break.”

“We still need to be careful, Te. Trauma comes out in all forms and at any time.”

“I just need to feel normal again,” I tell him. “And to put all that bad stuff behind me.”

As promised, when we return to the farm, we snuggle up on the couch as Pit opens his grandma’s photo album.

I study every image of his baby face, running my finger over his chubby cheeks. He was a cute baby and a cuter toddler, with dark hair and blue eyes, along with a killer smile. “Do you think you’ll ever be a dad one day?” I ask. I feel him stiffen and glance up. “Pit?”

“No, Tessa. Kids aren’t something I want.” I nod, going back to turning the pages. “What about you?” he asks.

“Me either.” I feel him staring and meet his eyes again. “What? It’s okay for you to not want kids but not me?”

“Women usually want kids,” he says, frowning.

“I’m not bringing a child into this world to go through all the shit I’ve been through. Humans are too cruel, and I don’t have the heart to see my own kid suffer.”

“Not every kid gets bullied or goes through what you have.”

“What’s your reasons?” I ask.

“The fear of retribution,” he admits. “I’ve done too many bad things, and karma will eventually catch up. Whether that means I’ll end up in prison or dead, I don’t know, but I can’t leave a kid to suffer alone.”

“But you wouldn’t. Your child would have a mother.”

---